Ofin 
 
 mi 
 
 ms3 
 
 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS ONE OF 
 A COLLECTION MADE BY. 
 
 BENNO LOEWY 
 1854-1919 
 
 AND BEQUEATHED TO 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR3991.A6M53 
 
 The tutor and student / 
 
 3 1924-010 370 116 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 92401 03701 1 6 
 
THE TUTOE AND STUDENT. 
 
THE 
 
 TUTOR AND STUDENT; 
 
 A MEMBEE OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE. 
 
 Juvat me immemorata ferentum, 
 
 Ingenuis oculisque legi, manibusque teneri. 
 
 HoBAOE, Spis. xix. 
 
 Stulta est dementia, 
 
 Peiiturse parcere charts. — Jijv., Sat. i 
 
 'H (3 agEr)/, rcS ctE^Xou ov a. i/OgoiTOto-iu api'jov, 
 
 KaXKf^ov re (pi^av yiyviTai arSpl via. — Tybt^US. 
 
 LONDON: 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS and ROBERTS. 
 
 PATEBNOSTEB ROW. 
 
 1858. 
 
ts>0<^O 
 
 C7^ 
 
 'Xsy^~^ 
 
 
To Sir, Fkedeeick Thesigek, 
 
 M.P., Q.C. 
 
 Sir,— Whatever be the fate of "The Totoe 
 AND Student," it will be always a source of un- 
 mixed gratification and pride to the Author to be per- 
 mitted the honour of dedicating it to you, as, from the 
 great respect so universally felt for your transcendant 
 abilities and numerous virtues, the prestige of your high 
 name is sure to secure, at least a fair stage — an Eng- 
 lishman's privilege — to any work brought out under the 
 honor of your patronage; therefore, at first starting, 
 the Author has obtained one important advantage, viz., a 
 fair hearing ; — the want of which has proved fatal to many 
 a writer, even of superior merit. This point being 
 secured : the present Volume is placed in a position to 
 'fight its own battle, and, if found possessed of merit, to 
 ~ work its own way in .life ; otherwise, the writer cannot 
 complain, however much he may regret to see his humble 
 offspring consigned to merited oblivion: the privilege 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 of a fair hearing will be due to you — the failure of the 
 experiment to his own misfortune* Had the Author 
 of " The Tutor and Student " possessed the genius 
 of a Scott, or the graphic powers of a Longfellow, 
 he might then produce something more worthy of your 
 and the public acceptance i but lacking the ability, he 
 trusts you may take the will for the deed, and accept 
 this, his literary mite, as a humble tribute of unfeigned 
 respect and lasting gratitude. 
 
PKEFACE. 
 
 In the early part of last summer, a manuscript had been put 
 into our hands by an old and learned friend, entitled, The 
 TuTOtt AND Student, by a member of the Middle Temple. 
 The writer of this manuscript had been known to us for many 
 years as a gentleman of high character and varied knowledge; 
 deeply read in the volume of human life, qui mores muUorum, 
 hominum vidit et urbes ; but unfortunately, like most literaiy 
 men, his career has been a checquered one, singularly marked 
 by extraordinary incidents, and clouded with domestic afflic- 
 tions.. The Author of the Tutor and Student attributes 
 and traces all his earthly disappointments to one primary 
 cause, viz., the wrong selection of a tutor on entering the 
 University. This, to use his own words, was the rock on 
 which he suffered shipwreck; he now feels it would be rendeiing 
 good service to the rising generation to publish his own story to 
 the world, in the hope that it may serve as a beacon-light to stu- 
 dents, by which they may be enabled to steer their course and 
 eschew those dangerous rocks and quicksands which have 
 proved fatal to him. The object of the writer of this manu- 
 script, in submitting it to us, was to take our opinion as to 
 whether such an autobiography might be of sufficient interest to 
 attract public attention. All we could do at the time was to 
 
VlU PKEFACE. 
 
 promise tkat we would look it over at our leisure, and give our 
 opinion in due time ; for, being then overwhelmed with private 
 engagements at the beginning of the long vacation — added to 
 the necessity which we ourselves had of personal recreation, we 
 candidly admit we felt quite oblivious of the Tutoe and 
 Student until the last week in September; but being then 
 disengaged, we took up the manuscript referred to, read it with 
 attention and increasing interest ; — the result was, great self- 
 reproach on our part, for our long neglect of a book which 
 appears to us not only exceedingly interesting as a tale, but prac- 
 tically useful as a book of reference in respect to College rales ; 
 besides, we believe such a book to be absolutely necessary, and 
 called for, at the present time ; for strange that it may seem, we 
 believe no book has been written on this important subject from 
 •the foundation of the University, down to the present time — a 
 period of 350 years; at least, we confidently assert that no 
 honest and impartial history has been published during this 
 long space of time, as to the effect produced on the minds 
 of the people of Ireland, by the foundation of Trinity College, 
 not alone on the promotion of literary and scientiiic knowledge, 
 but what we hold to be of infinitely paramount importance, in 
 diffusing among aU classes the genuine principles of Christianity, 
 by freely communicating to such as may be disposed to receive 
 it, the pure and unadulterated word of God, not by the establish- 
 ment of sectarian schools for proselytism, or byinvolving the minds 
 of therising generation in the mazes of religious controversy, which 
 the apostle deprecates and warns us to avoid, but by " throwing 
 our bread upon the waters," and uniting all in one common 
 bond of charity and brotherly love, which we hold to be the 
 essence of vital Christianity, social happiness, and material ad- 
 vancement. Should the following story be true — and we believe 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 it does not admit of controversy, the Board of Trinity College 
 should blusk to read it, as it bears upon the face of it the sentence 
 of their own condemnation. By this book it seems evident that 
 this Board,, ever since the foundation of the University, have had 
 but one object in view, viz., the accumulation of " iilthy lucre ;" 
 this was the all-absorbing consideration by which they were 
 actuated; to this they sacrificed the intentions of Queen Elizabeth 
 in the foundation of the University, as well as the interests of 
 the Eeformed Church committed to their charge ; their policy 
 seems at aR times to have consisted in the Jesuitical secrecy 
 with which they distributed amongst each other the emoluments 
 of the College, to the detriment of the public; their deeds being 
 dark, they naturally endeavoured to hide them from the public 
 gaze ; and to this cause, no doubt, is to be attributed the general 
 ignorance of all in regard to the machinery of the Board of 
 Trinity CoUege. Nobody can form any idea of the emolu- 
 ments of the Board, save its own members. To these alone the 
 secret is confided ; they seem to have been closely coimected 
 with each other by the golden links of interest, somewhat 
 resembling Freemasonry, and may be appropriately called " The 
 Brethren of the Mystic Tie ;" nobody is disposed to divulge a 
 secret, in the concealment of which his interest is deeply involved ; 
 and should any officious Paul Pry venture, in the face of an omni- 
 potent Board, to hint at what was passing within the sanctum 
 sanctorum of Alma mater, woe betide that ill-fated individual ! 
 However, the Author of the Tutob and Student has at length 
 removed the curtain with a bold hand, and now exhibits to the 
 world the rottenness of the old system, ostensibly established for 
 the public benefit, and endowed with immense revenues, which, 
 however, have been gradually wrested from their original purpose, 
 and converted by the cupidityand corruption of succeeding Boards 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 into sources Of private wealth and individual aggl-andizeraent. 
 Should the effect of the following tale be to direct Public and 
 Parliamentary enquiry, even at the eleventh hour, to this colossus 
 of corruption. We should then say that the Author of The 
 TuTOK AND Student has done the "state some service," and 
 established for himself a just claim to national gratitude; but the 
 only way by which we can mark our appreciation of his service, and 
 make some amends for oui own procrastination in his regard, is 
 by sending this manuscript to our own Publisher, with which we 
 take no other liberty save that of making a tale of the Tutob and 
 Student, which we do by permission of the writer, and conclude 
 with made virtute — a word of good omen in favor of his 
 undertaking. 
 
 Temple Chambers, 
 September 1857. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. I ]^age 1 
 
 The Student's reminiscenoeB ; their general effect ; his auto- 
 biography tod parentage ; his ■ father's loyalty to the 
 British crown; the effect upon his personal safety and 
 circumstances ; the Student resolves to enter the Dublin 
 University ; his fatal mistake; loss of a kind friend; the 
 effect upon his prospects; is matriculated a Student of 
 College imder Dr. L. ; the personal appearance of the 
 Eev. Doctor ; his untoward accident ; his periodical visits 
 to Buxton ; his soubriquet; his popularity among the upper 
 classes ; the effect ; his character as a tutor ; his indifference 
 to his pupils ; his business habits and general rule ; his 
 literary and scientifjo attainments ; the Student's original 
 opinions in regard to the fellows of College altered; the 
 cause of the change ; Goldsmith's schoolmaster and the 
 reverend fellow compared : thfe superiority of the former ; 
 the tutor's hauteur to his pupils ; the cause canvassed by 
 his class ; conflicting opinions on this point ; the Tutor 
 and Student part for a short season, soon to meet again. 
 
 Chap. II page 8 
 
 A Sketch of the Dublin University from its foundation — its 
 body corporate and politic ; the number of its corporation ; 
 the extent of their authority ; the income of the College ; 
 all the fellows, save three, obliged to take priests' orders ; 
 the fellowship course of examination ; the College livings 
 at the disposal of the College ; this number increased by 
 Act 3 & 4 WiUiam IV ; perquisites of the schplars ; 
 
11 CONTENTS. 
 
 the Sizars ; the fellows hound to celibacy until the year 
 1840; restriction now removed; the revenues of the 
 Board known only to its members; two instances of 
 their grasping propensities ; the object of Queen Elizabeth, 
 in the foundation of the University, defeated by the 
 cupidity of the Board ; the cause of this violation of the 
 Act; Eoman Catholics admitted to degrees in the Uni- 
 versity on payment of fees ; the effect of this act of the 
 Board on the minds of the people of Ireland ; its effects 
 upon the College funds ; second proof of the grasping dis 
 position of the Board ; preliminary remarks on the act of the 
 union, 1820; the state of the University at this dark era ; her 
 4)rivileges restored by the Reform Act, 1832 ; the liberal 
 tendencies of the Board of Trinity College at the passing 
 of the Act ; the franchise extended to all the members, 
 but only on the payment of one pound annually ; the 
 constituency at present consists of 1,500; the cause why 
 the University has produced so few great men, and only 
 four poets of any celebrity from its first foundation ; the 
 effect of a residence within the walls of CoUege ; the College 
 called the Silent Sister by the English universities; the 
 Stndent's s fferings in college. 
 
 Chap. Ill . ... page 13 
 
 Character of the Rev. Dr. BaiTctt ; his eccentricities ; an extract 
 in reference to him from Charles O'Malley ; additional anec- 
 dotes; his melancholy death; remarks thereon; his immense 
 wealth bequeathed to the Dublin University ; revocation of 
 the win ; he dies friendless and neglected. , 
 
 Chap. IV. . . . jiage 25 
 
 History of the junior fellows ; the writer's observations not meant 
 to apply to the present race of fellows : the incomes of the 
 junior fellows on the foundation of College ; how increased ; 
 the different classes of students : the average incomes of the 
 Fellows : the effect of the pu^ilizing mania ; the partiality 
 of the examiners in the distribution of prcemiums ; their 
 love of money a proof of the incomes of the Junior Fellows ; 
 the Board resolve to give some check to their growing avarice 
 by repealing the law of celibacy.; , thft effect of the repeal 
 upon the Fellows ; a second act passed as a corollary 
 to the first ; the studentis ppiniqns as to its probable 
 effects; his opinion as to the reforniing characterof the Board 
 
JM-' 
 
 CONTENTS. XIU 
 
 and its disinterestedness ; tlie object of Queen Elizabeth 
 in the foundation of the University frustrated ; reflections 
 on this subject ; sketch of Trinity College, now shovm up 
 for the first time in her true colours; the student's justifica^ 
 ' tion for such an exposure ; a rival college in Ireland; a com- 
 parison between this and Trinity College ; reflections on the 
 increasing wealth and decreasing efficiency of the latter: col- 
 legiate as requisite as coi'porate reform ; the student hopes 
 that he may be an humble instrument in producing the 
 desired effect ; the pleasure this would afford him ; a short 
 sketch of a Junior Fellow who anticipated the passing of t*ie 
 act of celibacy by a clandestine marriage. 
 
 Chap. V page 35 
 
 A description of night; a love scene; a visit of a lover 
 to the house of his inamorata; midnight; the conster- 
 nation of the lady's father; having heard 'the lover's 
 explanation and apology, refuses to accept it; orders 
 him out of his house ; hie resolution seconded by his 
 wife, who reproaches the reverend gentleman in terms 
 of the bitterest sarcasm ; whilst in the act of ejecting the 
 lover, a scream is heard; the servant enters the room, 
 calls for help ; her young mistress has got a fit ; the father 
 and mother instantly go upstairs, find the young lady 
 in a trance ; the alarm of the lady's parents ; a reaction 
 in favor of the suitor communicated to the reverend 
 gentleman ; the lady's recovery ; the effect of the joyous 
 news upon her mind; she falls off into a gentle sleep, 
 the natural effect of the exhaustion and excitement 
 of the preceding night ; description of a sleeping beauty ; 
 
 , xr^^he -STttor — a man of business — resolved to lose no time ; 
 'twas three o'clock, a.m. ; description of the morning on 
 the Dublin Bay; a clergyman appears with a license, 
 performs the marriage ceremony, which, being ended, 
 the newly -married couple dash off' in a coach and four, 
 with outriders, i io pass the honeymoon in the County of 
 
 I / (( :. ' Wicldow ; the reverend - Tutor - snaps his flngers at the 
 
 Board, and triumphs in his success. 
 
 ChjP. VI. . . 'page 44 
 
 The effect of matrimony on the mind of the Tutor ; the Stu- 
 dent mistakes his real character; the Tutor's love of 
 change; his animal propensities; his growing indif- 
 ference to his wife soon felt and resented by the latter ; 
 
1 CONTENTS. 
 
 the newly-married pair return to Dublin, animated by 
 feelings of reciprocal aversion ; the feelings of the lady's 
 parents on the occasion ; the Tutor's contempt for their 
 opinions ; the cause ; the Eeverend Doctor resumes his 
 collegiate duties; his character as a preacher; an impor- 
 tant crisis in the Student's career; his father's embar- 
 rassments , his inability to meet his Tutor's demands ; his 
 friends advise him to read for scholarship ; his feelings and 
 conscientious scruples, whence caused; a brief disserta- 
 tion on justification by faith ; the Roman Catholic and Pro- 
 testant Religion compared ; they agree on some funda- 
 mental points ; the Student inclines to the principles of the 
 latter; his doubts not being removed, declines to try for 
 scholarship ; the two points on which he wholly broke off 
 with the Roman Catholic Church ; the effect of his pro- 
 fessed opinions on the minds of his Catholic and Protestant 
 friends ; he loses the friendship of both ; he acquaints his 
 tutorwiththeciroumstances of his case, and kis conscientious 
 scruples on the subject of religion ; the Tutor declines to 
 interfere; calls upon the Student to pay his quarterly 
 notes ; reply of the latter; the Tutor removes the Student's 
 name from the books; the Student left friendless and 
 penniless. 
 
 Chap. VII. . . ■ page ^\ 
 
 The clouds, long gathering, now ready to burst ; the gloom of 
 despondency enlightened by a cheering ray of hope ; re- 
 flections on the inscrutable wisdom of a merciful Pro- 
 vidence; the Student waits on the Rev. H. H., F. T. C. ; 
 the character and kindness of the reverend gentleman; 
 the Student's repugnance to the name of a Tutor overcome 
 by the state of his affairs ; accepts a situation as resident 
 Tutor in the family of Mr. B. P., a magistrate and ex-High 
 Sheriff, resident at Mount P., County of Limerick ; his 
 reception by this gentleman and family ; description of the 
 Mount and family residence ; a brief sketch of the family 
 from memory ; the junior members of the family ; an 
 original; the head of the family — his extraordinary cha- 
 racter ; the fair side of his character first considered ; the 
 counterpart exhibited ; his jobbing propensities ; how he 
 got appointed High Sheriff; his singular notions as regarded 
 honesty and dishonesty; the High Sheriff imposes on 
 'Lord Gort, and on the Judges;' his manner of doing so; 
 character of Baron Smith ; the opinions of the Student as 
 to the conduct of the High Sheriff. 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 Chap. VIII page 61 
 
 Evil communication ; its effects 'realised in the Student's case ; 
 the class of gentiy that visited the Mount ; the parvenu 
 wholly excluded ; conversation of sportsmen in general ; 
 the peculiarity of that of the Mount; the serious turn of the 
 Student's mind altered ; he becomes the chief actor on such 
 occasions, the society of the Mount sometimes includes 
 men of the highest order of intellect ; the rifle brigade ; 
 Major F., a poet and an author; his character; writes the 
 Thonaid, in three cantos; its consequence; the gallant 
 Major ceases to visit at the Mount ; the Student's regrets ; 
 his opinion as to the conduct of the Major ; his apology for 
 the latter ; a sketch of the late eccentric Lord M. ; his 
 gambling propensities ; loses £40,000 by a single cast of 
 the die ; a characteristic sketch of the Cormtess Dowager 
 of M. ; her personal appearance and fascinations of maimer ; 
 the effect; in what consisted her superiority; the shades 
 of her character ; the Student one of her favored visitors ; 
 tlie effect upon his mind and prospects ; resolves to quit 
 the scene, and break his chain ; acquaints the Countess 
 with his resolution ; her , general conduct towards the 
 Student ; her parting compliment. 
 
 Chap. IX. . . . . page 11 
 
 A dinner party at the Mount ; the invited guests ; the London 
 leg ; his character and peculiarity of gait ; a gambling scene, 
 the London leg a chief actor ; the gambling begins ; the 
 sums lost ; the scene worthy the pencil of Hogarth ; the 
 London leg a chief sufferer;, the effect of the hellish scene 
 upon the mind of the actors, particularly on that of the Stu- 
 dent ; resolves to quit- the scene as soon as possible, and 
 to return to Dublin ; an unexpected event hastens his 
 departure. 
 
 Chap. X page 78 
 
 Remarks on the mysterious agency of Divine Providence ; the 
 Student's resignation ; the value of his father's considered 
 opinions ; his disposition to serve his children sincere; his 
 extravagant propensities ; their effect ; his difficulties 
 aggravated by the fact of his having been arrested for 
 £75 ; the Student becomes security for the payment 
 of this sum ; joins his father in a bond for this 
 
XVI CONTENTS. 
 
 amount; his father gets discharged, ere being committed 
 to prison ; the Student resolves on getting his name 
 replaced on the College books ; his letters to his Tutor; 
 reply of the latter ; the deception practised on the Student ; 
 applies for redress to the Board of Trinity College ; 
 receives none ; copy of his letter to the Board ; do reply ; the 
 Tutor partly acknowledges his error, and apologises ; the 
 Tutor in a fix ; the Student consults his father as to the best 
 course to pursue under the circumstances ; the latter advises 
 a conciliatory one; the Student yields to his opinions; 
 addresses a kind letter to his Tutor; receives a letter 
 announcing the illness of .his mother ; this a fatal blow to 
 the Student ; the effect upon his mind ; returns home 
 without a moment's delay ; finds his mother on her death- 
 bed ; her joy on seeing a favourite son ; a dying scene. 
 
 Chap. XI page 85 
 
 The Student's circumstances sadly altered ; the effect not yet 
 visible in his father's mode of living ; appearances decep- 
 tive ; the student had two surviving sisters ; one had gone 
 with her husband and family to Australia ; the younger 
 sent a child to a public school, where she still remained ; 
 his eldest brother married a lady in Cork ; had two younger 
 brothers married ; seldom visited thfeir father's houjse ; 
 the Student and his father the only inmates of the esta- 
 blishment ; digression from the autobiography ; . a sketch of 
 the distressed state of the South of Ireland at this crisis ; the 
 Student's distress nothing singular; the proof; the causes 
 that led to this state of thing ; reduced to two heads ; a 
 tenant hung for setting fire to his own house ; the means 
 resorted to for saving the life of the convict ; two petitions 
 presented to government on the subject; the petitions rejected; 
 observations on the unlimited power of the landlord over 
 his tenants; the heartless and arbitrary conduct of the 
 Irish landlords as a body, first proof ; second arose from the 
 disfranchisement of the forty-shilling freeholders ; its effect 
 on the peace of Ireland ; awful responsibility of the land- 
 lords; two instances of their avaricious disposition, the 
 cruelty of the Irish landlords some palliation for the crimes 
 of their tenantry ; a brief sketch of the landlord and tenant 
 system. 
 
 Chap. XII page 94 
 
 The Student returns to College, goes in the October examination 
 and saves his year ; domestic troubles and family embar- 
 rassments ; his first act on returning to College ; arranges 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 the Tutor's demand; this point being settled, the Student 
 next turns his thoughts towards his former College friends ; 
 a long intimacy between the two friends, strengthened by a 
 strong religious tie; their meeting; they agree to pass the day 
 together; character of the reverend gentleman; his affecting 
 history of the " Murdered Student." 
 
 Chap. XIII page 105 
 
 The happiness of the Student in the society of his friend; 
 they agree to breakfast and dine together for the ensuing 
 half-year; the happiest and best- spent days of his life; the 
 Student, els before stated, saved his year in October ; 
 passes over the two following examinations of January 
 and April, bringing the history down to the June exami- 
 nation ; at this period a remarkable accident occurs, viz., 
 the Student's arrest for £i5 ; extraordinary liberality of a 
 prisoner ; the particulars of his case ; the danger of setting 
 our hearts on the perishable goods of this life; comparison 
 between him and the wealthy fellows of College; the 
 denunciation against wealth. 
 
 Chap. XIV pagein 
 
 The Student has passed his final examination, to take his 
 degree at the ensuing Gommfencement ; extraordinary 
 conduct of the Tutor; his additional claim for fifteen 
 guineas ; the Student quite astounded at this fresh demand ; 
 acquaints his reverend friend with the particulars ; the 
 latter describes it as preposterous ; advises his friend to 
 take no notice ; that the Tutor merely made use of it 
 as a vain threat to intimidate the Student ; the reasoning 
 of his reverend friend not quite satisfactory to the Student, 
 who, to guard against danger, procures the fifteen guineas; 
 this fraud being arranged, the Student's mind is at rest ; a 
 party at the chambers of the Eev. Wm. Q ; the evening 
 immediately preceding the Commencement ; the question 
 of the Tutor's claim freely discussed — some maintaining 
 that the Tutor had no grounds to enforce his demand, 
 and never meant to do so — others supported the converse 
 of the question ; of this number was the Student ; this 
 knotty point decided; the Proctor having refused to return 
 the Student's name on the list of students about to graduate, 
 unless the alleged demand of the Tutor were first satisfied, 
 the Student has no alternative but to pay down the money ; 
 having done so, he knelt before the Lord Chancellor, 
 
XVm CONTENTS. 
 
 took the oath of allegiance to his Majesty and of con- 
 formity to the Statutes of the College; he then hids a 
 long adieu to his reverend Tutor and the Duhlin 
 University. 
 
 Chap. XV page 120 
 
 The Student now a member of the University ; the em- 
 barrassed state of his father's affairs a source of painful 
 anxiety ; the Student's forlorn hope ; ladies involved in a 
 Chancery suit by the avaricious cupidity of an attorney, 
 their uncle ; consequence of this proceeding ; the Student's 
 marriage to one of the wards; ceremony performed according 
 to the rites of the Eoman Catholic Church, by the Reverend 
 Mr. M— , guardian and domestic chaplain; the Student 
 and his wife set off for Dublin, whence they proceed to the 
 South of Ireland ; the Student's first act on returning home; 
 takes land, at a rack-rent of £3 per acre, from his father ; 
 his meafts inadequate ; his ignorance of farming is subject 
 to constant imposition from his agricultural labourers ; 
 his wife gives birth to a still-bom child ; her constitution 
 at first exhausted, slight, hopes entertained of her 
 recovery for the ensuing six months ; the Student and hia 
 wife live happily with their Rock Brook friends ; their 
 frequent excursions to Lake Ule, Belvidere Lake, 
 Lake Donore, and to Goldsmith's "Deserted Village;" 
 the Student obliged to return to Dublin with his wife, 
 owing to her continued delicacy, takes a house in George's 
 Place, Dublin, where his wife is delivered of a daughter ; 
 the lady's physicians hold out no. hopes of her re- 
 covery ; she sinks rapidly ; the Student's feelings and 
 conduct on the occasion ; his wife's last words and dying 
 request ; the saddest chapter in the Student's woeful 
 
 Chap. XVI page 127. 
 
 The accumulated afflictions of the student at the present time ; 
 his wife's sistei-s ; the infant child's pi'ospects ; the child 
 removed to Eock Brook ; the student left a widower : his 
 difficulties ; he accepts a law reportership on a Dublin news- 
 paper; histreatment by the editor of the paper; the student 
 falls back on his literary attainment* ; the Rev. S. S. sends 
 him a private pupil as a boarder ; the student's system for 
 his improvement ; the dissipated habits of the pupil ; the 
 student's establishment at this time ; an unfortunate event ; 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 death of the student's child ; his afflictions renewed ; sets off 
 for Westmeath, on hearing of the death of his child, to stop 
 one week with his friends; leaves his pupil, in his ahsence, 
 to the care of his faithful servant ; the young gentleman 
 conducts himself with shameful improprie^ ; the student on 
 his return resolves to turn him out of his house ; the pupil's 
 feigned contrition ; is forgiven ; gets through his quarterly 
 examination with great credit; the joy of his father; 
 his gratitude to the student ; invites him to pass the long 
 vacation at his rectory ; sets off for the rectory ; reaches his 
 destination ; his reception by the Eev. gentleman and his 
 domestic circle ; the parson's wife ; her domesticated habits ; 
 the rector ; his general character ; his impartiality as a ma- 
 gistrate ; anecdote of a Eoman Catholic priest ; doing penance 
 at a holy well ; a penitent assaulted by his priest ; applies for 
 redress to the magistrate, who refuses to interfere ; cause 
 assigned : character of the Eector as a minister of the Gospel ; 
 a gloomy change in the student's state of mind, which ren- 
 ders him unfit for society. 
 
 Chap. XVII. page 141 
 
 Sketch of Donegal Bay, and Slieve Alt, Lake Salt ; the general 
 appearance of the ,countiy, its products ; the general de- 
 moralisation of tlie peasantry' ; the cause ; the mania of 
 the people for illicit distillation ; anecdote of George IV. ; 
 the right of fishing another source of perpetual strife; 
 a short sketch of the Kectory of M — ; the incumbent 
 and his family no longer agreeable to him; the Eector 
 observes this change with great regret; resolves to make 
 the remainder of the Student's time at the Bectory as 
 agreeable as possible ; description of the Caves ; the Stu- 
 dent's g.-atitude to the parson; endeavours to compensate 
 his friends for all they have done for him; reads and 
 expounds the Bible for the family, at the request of the 
 parson; a private and confidential conversation between 
 the Student and the Eector, in reference to his son ; 
 the effect upon the Eeotor'e mind ; he expresses himself 
 thankful ; pledges himself to secrecy ; the change in the 
 parson's manner and appearance remarked by the family ; 
 this the reverend gentleman attributes to his solicitude for 
 the safety of the ladies ; the company sits down to tea, which, 
 being ended, the parson proposes to read a chapter ; con- 
 cludes with a most pathetic extempore prayer, pronounces 
 a blessing on his family, and retires for the night. 
 
 b 2 
 
XX CONTENTS. 
 
 Chap. XVIII. page 160 
 
 The Student retires, but not to rest ; a comparison between 
 his sufferings and those of the Rector ; a restless night ; 
 the Student rises from his bed at 2 o'clock a.m. ; sits by his 
 bed-room window, which overlooks the Bay of Donegal ; 
 the grandeur of the starry firmament ; the roaring of the sea 
 at midnight ; the Student gazes until morning on this mag- 
 nificent scene ; sea compared to a fiery steed, ready to shake 
 off control, until restrained by the voice of Omnipotence ; the 
 effect of a glow of heat upon the Student after a restless 
 night; the reverend genfleman proposes a cruise on the 
 Bay, and a picnic on the island ; thfe Student being informed 
 of the compliment, instantly goes downstairs, joins the party 
 at breakfast J the company go down to the shore, where they 
 find a yacht ; a description of a heavenly day ; a glassy sea ; 
 the ladies furnished with fishing-rods, the gentlemen with 
 guns ; the Rector's resolution not to kill birds for sport ; not 
 to be cruel without necessity ; reminds his friends of the fable 
 of the Frogs and the Bays ; the parson's resolution applauded 
 by the ladies ; the legend of Orpheus arresting the course 
 of the rapid streams and commanding the breathless 
 attention of the listening groves no longer a fable; the 
 excitement of the scene subsides, and the yacht makes 
 for shore ; a lauding scene described ; the party at length 
 ascend the hUl, and are seated to a cold dinner, to which 
 they do ample justice. The reverend gentleman returns 
 thanks ; takes a few turns with his son and the Student 
 about the Island ; the dialogue between the father and son ; 
 with his request to the Student in reference to his son; the 
 latter reluctantly complies ; the reverend gentleman then 
 joins the party, entertains them for some time with the 
 Irish melodies ; the party returns to the Eectoiy ; an 
 early tea previous to the Student's departure ; takes leave 
 of his friends at the Eectoiy, and the parson accompanies 
 him for two miles on his way to the town of Strabane, 
 from which the Dublin eoach starts every morning at six 
 o'clock ; intends stopping the night at Btrabane, the dis- 
 tance being about seven miles from the Rectory; the 
 Rector's constant anxiety about his son ; ■ talks on no 
 other subject ; repeats his request of the Student; at length 
 wishes him farewell, and returns to the Rectory ; the Stu- 
 dent proceeds on his way to the town of Strabane, where 
 he arrives between six and seven o'clock, and meets with 
 an extraordinary adventure. 
 
CONTENTS. XXI 
 
 Chap. XIX page 168. 
 
 A mysterious stranger at the inn ; his personal appearance ; his 
 eccentric manner; wholly engrossed in reading "Pollock's 
 Course of Time';" hie unwillingness to join in conversation ; 
 sits down to tea at the Stiideht's request ; turns over the 
 leaves of PoUook's Course of Time ; asks the Student if he 
 has read it ; speaks in the highest terms of its beauty and 
 sublimity; an instance ; the deluded maniac; his opinions 
 as to the voluptuary and " lust-dieted man ;" the luxury 
 of grief; his apology to the Student for such weakness ; his 
 quotation from Jeremiah, chap. tx. v. 1 ; expresses a wish 
 to hear the history of the stranger and to tell his own tale, 
 giving precedence to the story of his friend ; the Captain 
 begins his story ; his parentage ; his collegiate career ; his 
 predilection for the army ; his love of travel ; for Eastern 
 scenery; an old attachment renewed ; gets married; his wife 
 accompanies him to India; gets quartered at the Vale of 
 Cashmere : the visions of his youth realised ; has access to 
 the private parties of the Emperor ; his wife presents him 
 with two children, a son and a daughter ; the former dies, 
 the daughter becomes the idol of her parents ; is sent to 
 Europe for the benefit of her education ; the Captain's father 
 dies ; apprehensions of the health of his daughter ; the doc- 
 tor's opinion regarding it ; the Captain and his wife return 
 by the Overland route; his daughter dead; his feelings; 
 considered by his'friends wholly deranged; the superiority 
 of woman on trying occasions; instances; the Captain's 
 wife proposes to return home direct ; the doctors oppose it ; 
 the wife returns alone ; the Captain, on his way to join her, 
 meets the student at Strabane ; the Captain becomes inco- 
 herent ; again resumes the thread of his reasoning, and 
 briefly concludes his story ; the Captain listens with intense 
 interest to the Student's narrative, and admits that his suf- 
 ferings are of a more aggravated character than his own; 
 the student consoles his friend ; charges him with ingrati- 
 tude to his wife ; the Captain expresses his acknowledgments 
 to the Student, but requests him to postpone the subject 
 to a more convenient season ; the Captain, for the first time 
 for many days, feels inclined to eat; repeats his gratitude to 
 the Student, of which he promises to give more practical 
 proof than mere words ; the Captain's interesting sketch, 
 of the Vale of Cashmere, &c. ; they retire for the night ; 
 the Captain sleeps sound, not so the Student ; passes a 
 restless night ; rises between four and five o'clock ; enters 
 the bed-room of his friend; finds him in a sound sleep, 
 which he is unwilling to disturb; makes the necessary 
 arrangements for his own departure ; an old stage coach ; a 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 great object of attraction ; the Student's opinion as to its 
 advantages and disadvantages ; a brief sketch of a row in a 
 stage coach, in which the Captain and Student had to act a 
 prominent part on their return to Dublin. 
 
 Chap. XX paoeUd 
 
 One minute to six o'clock, a.m.; the coachman on the point 
 of starting; the horses paw the ground; the coachman 
 bows to his fair admirers; and the horses are all at full 
 gallop ; the box-seat occupied by a young collegian, the 
 Captain, and friend take the seat behind the coachman; 
 the collegiaii smokes a cigar, the fumes of which are 
 disagreeable to the Student ; the latter declined; the conse- 
 quence ; the cowardice of the collegian, overwhelmed by a 
 torrent of invective by the Captain ; the effect upon the colle- 
 gian's prospects ; loses his examination; the moral to be de- 
 duced; robberies and murders frequent on the stage coaches; 
 the Student not of the number of those who regret the slow 
 coaches of olden times; a suggestion to legislators; the 
 merit of the individual who could pass a comprehensive law 
 on this subject ; the honour paid by the Komans to the person 
 who saved the life of a single citizen; the Captain and the 
 Student's arrival at Dublin; the Captain repeats his ob- 
 ligations to the Student,'and presents him with a cheque for 
 a large amount; the Student gratefully, but decidedly 
 declines ; the Captain then presents his friend with a 
 valuable gold ring, as a momento of his friendship, which 
 the Student accepts; the conversation lasts an hour, but is 
 interrupted by the announcement of the arrival of the 
 Kilkenny coach, into which the Captain enters, and had 
 only time to say to his friend, " farewell ;" the horses 
 off at the top of their speed, and the coach out of sight in 
 a moment ; the Student's reply to such as may find fault 
 with this episode; an extract from the " pleasures of hope." 
 
 Chap. XXI jioffe 198 
 
 The contents of this chapter being matters of fact, presented to 
 the readers in their native simplicity ; the cause ; the Stu- 
 dent's arrival in Dublin; not suceessful in getting literary 
 employment; the reason; and consequence; his Dublin 
 friends, having heard of his dif&eulties, soon faU off; his for- 
 mer correspondence with his Rev. friend at the Rectory 
 long suspended; the reason explained; the Student, under 
 the circumstances, writes to the Rev. gentleman, requesting 
 a small loan; the Rector's favourable answer; promises the 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 loan when paid his proportion of the £1,000,000 advanced for 
 the distressed parsons ; this letter the Student shows to his 
 landlord, who, under the circumstances, gives him credit for 
 the payment of £10 due for rent; the Student obtains a 
 
 situation as resident tutor in the family of the Hon. A. S , 
 
 county Tyrone; quits the family in four months in conse- 
 quence of the death of his father ; the Student returns to 
 Dublin ; joins a literary society ; gains the favour of a lady 
 of fortune, who agrees to marry him; the marriage settle- 
 ment being prepared; »■ remarkable event at this crisis; 
 his former pupil, -the Rector's son arrives in Dublin, stops 
 at the former residence of the Student, where he was still 
 indebted for lodgings ; the landlord inquires of the Eeetor's 
 son for his friend the Student; the young gentlemen denies 
 all knowledge of the Student; the landlord believes the 
 Rector's son; advises the young gentleman to advertise him 
 as an impostor; an advertisement headed, " Caution to the 
 Public," in the " Saunders' News Letter," setting forth 
 particulars; the Student never sees it; casually heard 
 of it at the residence of a friend, the evening after its 
 appearance; his consternation on the occasion; buys a 
 copy of the newspaper, containing the " Caution;" seeks 
 for the parson's letter, and finds it; a scene with the 
 Student's attorney, who advises him to consult counsel 
 on the occasion, proceeds to the house of an eminent 
 counsel at 12 o'clock at night; the learned gentlemen pro- 
 nounces the " Caution " a gross libel; the Student loses 
 no time in contradicting "The Caution;" he next com- 
 mences an action for libel against the author of it; the 
 Rector appeals to the Student's former friendship, prays 
 him to forego proceedings, offers to make a public apolo^; 
 the apology being deemed satisfactory is accepted by coun- 
 sel ; the betrothed young lady on seeing the Student adver- 
 tised in the public papers, declines to fulfil her engagement, 
 but hearing of his vindication, she offers to renew the sub- 
 ject, which is decidedly declined by the Student; his reasons; 
 thus ended the case between the Student and the Rector's 
 son ; reflections of the Student on this subject. 
 
 Conclusion page 211 
 
 The curious reader naturally interested for the fate of the 
 gallant Captain and his devoted wife ; the story told in 
 a few words ; Mrs. L. returns alone ; her object in doing 
 so ; the state of her family residence on her return ; cau- 
 tions the servants against manifesting any sympathy for 
 the Captain for the loss of his daughter ; a party of friends 
 to meet him on the day of his arrival; dimier being 
 
;iV CONTENTS. 
 
 ended, the ladies retire to the drawing-room, leaving the 
 Captain and his guests to talk with him as to the state of 
 his tenantry ; a long discussion on this subject, in which 
 the Kector of the Parish and the Parish Priest take a 
 leading part ; the gallant captain promises to give the sug- 
 gestions of his friends aU due consideration, but politely 
 suggests that that was not the fittest time to speak on the 
 subject ; proposes to drink the health of the ladies and 
 joins them in the drawing-room ; the ladies congratulate 
 him on his improved appearance ; a discussion on the sub- 
 ject of moustaohios ; the opinion of the priest on the point; 
 appeals to Mrs. L n. The lady declines to inter- 
 fere in the matter, leaving it entirely to the Captain's own 
 discretion ; the gallant Captain promises to come into the 
 priest's views ; the captain then entertains his friends with 
 a glowing account of the Vale of Cashmere ; the beauty 
 and fidelity of the Hindoo women; this concluded the 
 
 evening ; Mrs. L n quite delighted with the result ; 
 
 thus passed the first day of the Captain's return; the fol- 
 lowing day one of exciting interest; a deputation waits 
 on the Captain at an early hour with an address of con- 
 gratulation: , the Captain's reply; . his hospitality, and 
 that of his wife; the Captain's arrival annonnoed by bon- 
 fires on all the neighbouring hills; thus closed the second 
 day; the third quite a day of business; the Captain 
 enquires into the ciroiunstances of his tenantry, forgives aU 
 back arrears, gives them a reduction in their rent pro- 
 portioned to the stake of the market; this intelligence 
 diffuses universal joy among the tenantiy ; the rapid im- 
 provement in their condition ; he regularly communicates 
 with his Dublin friend, the Student always requesting his 
 advice, and adopting his suggestions; the Captain's high- 
 minded wife, assisted by the parson's lady and others, 
 forms a Lady's Committee for the relief of the poor, the 
 eminent success of the Committe ; their mode of managing 
 the funds committed to their charge; the consequence of 
 these exertions; the wisdom of the well-known maxim 
 " God helps those who help themselves ;" the health of the 
 gallant Captain now begins to decline ; his fatal symptoms; 
 his wife's alarm; her manner of acting; the grinq King of 
 Terrors atlength knocks at his door; the fatal hour'at length 
 arrives ; of this the Captain seemed to have a clear pre- 
 sentiment; the parting soul under such circumstances 
 often endowed with a prophetic spirit; the Captain's parting 
 address to his wife; bequeaths to her his entire property, 
 amounting to £8,000 per annum : he dies without a groan 
 in the arms of his wife, in his thirty-fifth year; the devoted 
 wife closes his eyes, arranges his bed, sits by it for some 
 time, gazing on his lifeless features ; the servants hear the 
 last farewell, but did not think he was dead until 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 the nurse entered the room, when her mistress pointed to 
 the lifeless corpse without littering a word; the nuree 
 instantly falls on the neck of her mistress, who offers up a 
 prayer to the Father of Mercies to release he» from a world 
 no longer tolerahle; the parson's wife now enters the room 
 with other ladies , and vainly tries to console the disconsolate 
 widow ; at length, the ladies haiang prayed with her for some 
 time, took their departure, promising to return the following 
 morning; the widow being left alone again, re-enters the 
 dead room, kisses the cold lips of her hushand, and tells 
 her nurse that she felt inclined to take a little rest, that 
 she might leave the room and return again at nine 
 o'clock;^ the nurse obeys ; when the widow having 
 stripped off her clothes, puts on her night-dress, and lying 
 down by the side of her husband, breathes her last ; the 
 subsequent consternation; the foUomng morning one of the 
 greatest sorrow ; despair depicted on every face ; the crowds 
 assembled to attend the remains to their last resting- 
 place; their respect for the memory of a great and good 
 man only equalled by their admiration for his, devoted 
 wife; the effect of his death upon aU classes; his irretriev- 
 able loss to his own tenantry, who return to their homes 
 with downcast hearts, and minds full of ominous fore- 
 bodings; the cup of hope suddenly dashed from their lips. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In submitting the present volume to the public notice, 
 we deem it our duty to afford a few introductory obser- 
 vations ; firstly, to the critic in particular ; but next, to 
 the public in general. To the former we thus address 
 ourselves : — Thou worthy disciple of Julius Scaliger ! 
 should you condescend to notice the contents of our 
 humble, unpretending work, the only favour we solicit 
 at your hands is, that you may kindly grant us the merit 
 we deserve — we ask nothing more. We freely confess 
 the numerous errors of our book, in regard to the ar- 
 rangement of the subject, and the style of the narrative ; 
 though, like most parents, we are blind to the many faults 
 of our own offspring ; but should you kindly point out to us 
 where our faults lie, we shall then be happy to pay all 
 due respect to your suggestions, — in order, that, should 
 
XXVm INTEODUCTION. 
 
 it be our fate again to appear in print, we may be deemed 
 more worthy the honour of your favourable notice ; but 
 we beg y'ou will bear iu mind, that the present Volume 
 is not meant to be a standard for purity of style, or a 
 model for literary composition ; — not a book made up of 
 " polished periods and studied sentences," but a simple un- 
 varnished tale, intended to communicate practical truths, 
 which may serve as a useful lesson to the rising gener- 
 ation : in this, the whole merit of the work consists — we 
 pretend to nothing more. Only grant that such a result 
 is likely to follow from our efforts, and we shall then 
 willingly submit to any verbal castigation that you may 
 be pleased to inflict upon us, in regard to the literary 
 defects of our volume. With these few observations, we 
 leave our case in your hands, and next turn to our friend, 
 the public, whom we thus address : — 
 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen, — we venture to approach 
 you on the present occasion with unfeigned feelings of 
 humility and respect; we know you to be noble and 
 generous patrons, always ready to bestow ' your warmest 
 smiles ' on those who minister to your moral Improve- 
 ment, or contribute to your intellectual gratification. 
 The candidates for your favours are many; but your 
 
INTBODTJCTION. 
 
 bounty and indulgence are freely extended to all. Em- 
 boldened by such generosity, even we, the meanest of 
 your numerous votaries, presume to aspire to the favour of 
 your notice on the present occasion ; but we freely con- 
 fess that we build our hopes of success on grounds 
 wholly different from the, great majority of our com- 
 petitors. We do not profess to entertain you by a 
 geological dissertation on the substrata of the universe, 
 or to account for the causes that led to the superior 
 stature, magnitude, arid longevity of our Antedeluvian 
 ancestors ; whether they fed on milk, like the 
 yKaKTa<j>ayoi of the Iliad, or fattened, like Esau, on 
 the savoury meat of the chase : these subjects we 
 leave to the learned avans of modern times, those peri- 
 patetic philosophers who perform their periodical evo- 
 lutions to astonish you by the depth of their wisdom, 
 and to do ample justice to your hospitality by the keen- 
 ness of their appetites. The wisest of all men has pro- 
 nounced such abstract dissertations vain, and we are 
 inclined to coincide in the superior wisdom of his 
 opinions. Nor are we about to present to your notice 
 a work of fiction, from which no moral good can result — 
 much less do we desire to excite your merriment, or cater 
 to your morbid appetite for novelty, in order to catch 
 
INTBODUCTION. 
 
 at your favours by a common-place essay on the common- 
 place subjects of every-day life: we neither wish to 
 make mountains of molehills, pigmies of giants, or to 
 corrupt the hearts or vitiate the tastes of your children 
 by the tomfooleries of a Christmas pantomime. We have 
 read in olden times of the beau-idral of a gentleman — such 
 a phenomenon as could only exist in ' the heat-oppressed 
 brain' of the poet — who can create, contrary to the 
 maxims of the Stoics, something out of nothing, and 
 'give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.' 
 Such things have long since been consigned to the silent 
 tomb ; * reqniescat in pace, Amen.' 
 
 Having told you what we neither have done or mean 
 to do, we must now acquaint you with what we have done 
 to merit the honourof your patronage. We have told 
 you a simple tale, or rather a series of tales, taken from 
 real life ; many, if not all, of which have come under 
 the immediate observation of the writer, and in which he 
 himself has acted a prominent part. From these tales 
 lessons of great practical utility can be drawn, calculated 
 to make you kind husbands, fond wives, dutiful children, 
 useful members of society — to instruct you in what 
 consists your real happiness in this life, and to elevate 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXXI 
 
 your souls to the hope of a better : this is what we 
 have done. Should you think such humble services 
 worthy the favour of your notice, all we ask of you is to 
 extend to us the hand of friendship, and to confer some 
 portion of your patronage on the humble Author of th^ 
 ' Tutor and Student.' " 
 
THE TUTOR AND STUDENT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Oft in a stilly night, ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
 
 Fond memory brings the light of other days around me. — Mooke. 
 
 Hoec olim meminisse juvabit. — Vibgil. 
 
 We believe there is no scene in the great drama of human 
 life, iraught with such a variety of interesting incidents, so 
 blended and mixed up with pleasure and pain, as that arising 
 from the recollection of our school-boy and coUege days. If we 
 allow our imaginations to wander back over a period of thirty 
 or forty years, and reflect on the many dear j&iends that have 
 passed off the stage in this brief period — the companions of our 
 youth — the friends of our more mature years — ^the devoted 
 partners of our tenderest affections, — ^the retrospect is such as to 
 awaken in the mind the most painful emotions — to convince us 
 of the uncertainty of human life, and the inanity of all earthly 
 objects. Tew have felt the severance of those ties more acutely, 
 or retain a more vivid recollection of them, than the student of 
 whose biography we are now about to furnish the reader with 
 a brief sketch. He was the son of a gentleman formerly pos- 
 sessed of considerable landed property in the south of Ireland, 
 
 B 
 
i THE TUTOK 
 
 whose family consisted of six sons and two daughters. The sub- 
 ject of the present tale was the third child, and second son, — the 
 second having been a daughter. His father, though nominally a 
 Eoman Catholic, was always remarkable for his loyalty to the 
 British Crown ; and though living in perilous times, in Ireland, 
 about the year 1798, when popular discontent and insubordination 
 like a leaven fermentedalmost the whole mass of theCatholic popu- 
 lation, and a considerable proportion of the Protestant ; and when 
 every Eoman Catholic taking part with the Government of the 
 day was considered a renegade to his creed and a traitor j;o his 
 country ; — nevertheless, in spite of aU the combined force of these 
 conflicting influences, the gentleman to whom we refer became 
 a member of a yeomanry corps, raised for the defence of the 
 country in a crisis of apprehended invasion, and never for a 
 moment swerved from the strict line of duty and allegiance to 
 his king and country. The consequence was, his life was in con- 
 stant jeopardy. — ^He was fired at on several occasions, and, at a 
 subsequent period of his history, between the years 1833 and 
 1825, during the agrarian disturbances in the south of Ireland, 
 the popular prejudice towards him being still fresh in the minds 
 of the disaffected, he was forced by threats and intimidation 
 to quit his residence in the country, and to take shelter in a neigh- 
 bouring town, in order to guard against the threatened vengeance 
 of the assassin. The natural effect of this state of things was 
 to involve him in great pecuniary embarrassments, which led to 
 the mortgage of his estate for a considerable sum, to satisfy the 
 pressing demands of a youthful and numerous family,' as well as 
 to furnish means for the gratification of his own extravagant 
 propensities. 
 
 About this period it was that the Student, after the usual 
 course of preparatory study under a private tutor, determined on 
 
AND STUDENT. 3 
 
 entering the Dublin University, — being urged to thia resolutionby 
 the prudential consideration, that, owing to the embarrassed state 
 of his father's affairs, he should ultimately hare to rely for support 
 wholly on his own individual exertions. He, therefore, set off for 
 the Dublin University in the beginning of October, 1820 ; having 
 procured two letters of introduction, one to his intended tutor, the 
 other from the late Viscount Ennismore to his lordship'sbrother-in- 
 law, Mr, ManseU, of Granby-Kow, Dublin. But unfortunately he 
 presented the letter to his tutor first, and did not call on his other 
 friend forsome days after — ^this proved a fatal mistake. On waiting 
 on the latter gentleman, he received him with great courtesy and 
 kindness, telling him at the same time that his first act should 
 be to get him a good tutor, but on hearing that he had made his 
 own selection, and that Dr. L — was the object of his choice, he 
 seemed much concerned, and expressed his regret in words that 
 made so lasting an impression upon the student's mind, that 
 they are still fresh in his repollection, as if spoken but yester- 
 day. We give them verbatim— they are as follows : — " You 
 have made," observed this kind friend, " a fatal mistake in 
 limine, on entering college I Why not leave it to me to get you 
 a tutor ? What could possess you to make choice of Dr. L — ? In 
 all the college you could not possibly have chosen a more un- 
 kind man, or a worse tutor ; but what is done can't be undone. 
 You have made your own choice, and must now take him for 
 better for worse. I only hope you may never have occasion to 
 ask him for a favor, or to be behindhand in the payment of 
 your quarterly notes, in which case I fear you wiU not find him 
 a very indulgent creditor." 
 
 Such were the words of this kind friend; — unfortunately for 
 the Student he did not live to see them realized, having fallen 
 a victim in the autumn of the year following to the typhus fever 
 
4 
 
 THE TUTOE 
 
 — an epidemic which made dreadful havoc that year in Ireland, 
 particularly among the upper classes. In Mr. Mansell the 
 Student lost a kind friend and a generous benefactor ; his death 
 seemed a bad omen at the first setting off, and cast a temporary 
 gloom over the Student's future prospects : but being then in 
 the prime of life, and a man of a naturally ardent temperament, 
 he resolved to banish dull care and to fight the battle as well 
 as he was able. The die is now cast — ^the Eubicon is passed 
 — and he is now regularly matriculated a student of the Uni- 
 versity, and a pupU of the Efiv. Dr. L — . Here it 
 may be matter of some interest to the reader to receive a brief 
 sketch of the manners and personal appearance of this Eeverend 
 divine. He was then about thirty-five, perhaps a year or two 
 over, and was a man of about the middle size, of well-propor- 
 tioned limbs, and an animated and interesting countenance : 
 men, with some exceptions, considered him handsome, and he was 
 universally admired by the fair sex, whose favourable opinions he 
 seemed more solicitous to conciliate ; but an untoward acci- 
 dent happened to him about this time, that caused a material 
 alteration in his personal appearance. It is said that in one of his 
 convivial moods — ^not to caU them by a harsher name — whilst in 
 the act of coming down stairs he lost his central gravity, and 
 toppling over the bannisters, the most prominent feature in his face 
 came in collision with some intervening obstacle, by which he was 
 so severely hurt and visibly disfigured, that the effect was nearly 
 to sever his nose in twain, leaving a dinge in the centre that 
 quite metamorphosed the expression of his previously interesting 
 countenance : this proved a "sad blow and great discouragement" 
 to his personal vanity, of which he had no smaU stock. However 
 from his buoyancy of spirits and the natural vivacity of his 
 manners, he soon recovered from the effects of this personal 
 
AKD STUDENT. 5 
 
 disaster, and at tte time of which we write he was admitted to 
 be the " liomofactus ad ungiiem" of the PeEows; — as regards his 
 habits he was what the French call a " bon-vivant," and usually 
 made an autumnal visit to Buxton, a fashionable watering-place 
 in, Yorkshire, for the gratification of his Epicurean propensities: 
 whence he acquired for himself in College the soubriqtiet of 
 " Charley over the water ;" his gay and luxurious habits recom- 
 mended him to the favourable notice of a vast number of pupils, 
 chiefly members of the aristocracy, to which class all his pupils 
 belonged, with the exception of the Student and a few others. 
 So extensive was his influence and great his popularity among 
 the upper classes at the time, that when the Student entered 
 the University, his class of junior Treshmen was complete ; the 
 Student having filled up his last vacancy. 
 
 Having thus given to the reader a brief sketch of the per- 
 sonal accomplishments and luxurious habits of the Reverend 
 Doctor, it now remains for us to add a word as to his cha- 
 racter as a tutor. Taking his own account, which he frequently 
 communicated to his pupils, he had laid down a general rule 
 for himself on obtaining fellowship, to which he ever after 
 strictly adhered, — viz., never to interfere in the private concerns 
 of his pupils, and to exact from them the most rigorous 
 punctuality in the payment of their quarterly notes ; therefore, 
 should his pupil happen to get into a row over night, to meet 
 with an accident in the street, or to receive a letter by post 
 announcing the death of the nearest relative or friend, — in all 
 human probability, the matter never reached the ears of the 
 Keverend Doctor ; it was a private matter, with which it would 
 be inconsistent with his general rule to interfere ; but to the 
 liquidation of college fees and quarterly notes he paid the most 
 prompt and ready attention, — the question of pounds, shillings. 
 
6 THE TUTOB 
 
 and pence was always uppermost in his mind, and was one with 
 which he seemed thoroughly conversant ; no clerk in a counting- 
 house was more capable than he of auditing and balancing a 
 debtor and creditor account : so much for the private character 
 and business-like habits of the Eeverend Doctor, to whose tender 
 mercies [it was the Student's fate to be committed on first en- 
 tering the University. Let us now say a few words as to his 
 literary and scientific attainments ; and we freely admit, that the 
 very fact of his being a Fellow of the DubUn University was 
 quite sufficient to raise a weW-giouniei jprestige in favour of his 
 mental calibre ; and to this opinion the Student was inclined 
 before he entered college ; but on a nearer acquaintance with his 
 tutor, — ^having attended his private lectures, and applied line 
 and plummet to his intellectual depth, he was so struck with the 
 utter absence of anything like nnind or genius about the man, 
 that his first opinions as to his mental superiority were consider- 
 ably modified, if not wholly relinquished ; and he sank down in 
 his estimation to the level of a very ordinary man. Goldsmith's 
 schoolmaster, when contrasted with this fellow of college, must 
 be allowed a decided superiority : the former told his tale, and 
 the pupils laughed— some at him, others with him; the 
 Eeverend Doctor, on the contrary, seldom excited a smUe, real 
 or counterfeit ; he had neither the humour of a Democritus, or 
 the pathos of a HeracUtus. Neither was he a cross between the 
 two ; in a word, he seemed wholly incapable of soaring above the 
 dead level of mediocrity, or relieving the duU monotony of a 
 morning lecture by a ray of genius or a flash of intellect. 
 Hauteur, affectation, and reserve seemed the leading traits in this 
 Eeverend fellow's character. 
 
 Such singular peculiarities were freely canvassed by his 
 pupils ; — some considered them assumed, as a cloak to hide the 
 
AND STUDENT. ( 
 
 natural shallowness of a superficial mind ; others, on the 
 contrary, attributed them less to lack of natural ability, than to 
 that mistaken pride which leads to a false inference that freedom 
 Ireedi contempt, and that respect is best created and preserved 
 by cold indifference and studied reserve ; — ^to the latter opinion 
 the Student inclined, more particularly as, under different cir- 
 cumstances, at the public breakfasts, where he seemed in his 
 natural element, he could not be surpassed in the blandness of 
 his manners, and the indiscriminate politeness of his attentions. 
 With this impartial sketch we take leave of the hero of our tale 
 for the present, but only to renew our acquaintance when we 
 first give to the reader a brief history of the Dublin Univer- 
 sity — ^its body corporate and politic, &c., &c., to which interest- 
 ing subject we mean to devote the two following chapters. 
 
THE TUTOR 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Quorsiim pertinuit Btipare Platona Menandro? 
 Eupolin Archilocho? comitea educre tantos ? 
 Invidiam placare paras, virtute relicta ? 
 Contemnere, miser. — Hoeaoe. 
 
 Why pile up Plato and Menander too, 
 Eiipolis, Archiloous, and all the learned erew ? 
 When from the paths of virtue you decline, 
 Can musty volumes expiate the crime ? 
 Despised thou shalt be. 
 
 The University of Dublin, of which we now purpose to give a 
 brief outline, is a CoUege incorporated by Charter or Letters 
 Patent in the 34th of Elizabeth, a.b. 1591, and was founded 
 on the ruins of a monastery, caUed All Sallims, in Hoggins, 
 now College Green, — but then in the eastern suburbs of the 
 City. The site for the building of the CoUege was given by 
 the Corporation of Dublin. 
 
 In the Charter of Foundation, the Queen nominated the 
 Provost and three Fellows, nomine plurium, or in the name of 
 the majority, and three scholars, nomine plurium, to constitute 
 with their successors, for ever, a body corporate and politic 
 under the name of the Provost, Fellows, and Scholars of the 
 
AND STUDENT. 9 
 
 holy and undivided Trinity of Queen Mizaheth, near Dublin. 
 
 The number of the Corporation has been increased from 
 time to time, but at present it consists of a Provost, six Senior 
 Pellows, twenty-eight Junior Pellows, and seventy Scholars. 
 The Senior FeUows constitute the Hoard, and in them is vested 
 all authority, both legislative and CKecutive, so far as the 
 Statute permits, in aU matters appertaining to the revenues, a 
 government of the University. 
 
 The income of the College is said to amount on an average to 
 no less a sum than £64,000 annually, of which sum about £30,000 
 arise from the entrance and annual fees paid by the students 
 to the College and their tutors, the fees on degrees, and other 
 incidental services. The fellows hold their situations for life ; 
 but the scholars, who are chosen from the Undergraduates, only 
 retain their scholarships until they can obtain the degree of 
 Master of Arts. A vacancy occurring among the Fellows , is 
 fiUed up by the Provost, and a select number of the Fellows, 
 after a strict public examination, which lasts four days, at 
 which the questions are proposed and answered viva voce in 
 Latin. All the Fellows are obliged to enter into priests' 
 orders except three, one of whom is elected Medicus by the 
 Provost and other senior Fallows ; — the other two are elected, 
 Jurista juris civilis and Jurista juris Anglicani respectively. 
 The examination for Fellowships consists of Metaphysics, 
 Mathematics, Natural Philosophy, Ethics, History, Chronology, 
 Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. The Fellows, as before observed, 
 hold their situations for Ufe, unless they choose to accept one of 
 the College Livings, of which there are thirty-two in number, 
 at the disposal of the CoUege ; but in addition to the College 
 Livings in the gift of the University, the Archbishops of 
 Armagh and DubKn are empowered by the Act 3 & 4 
 
10 THE TUTOR 
 
 William IV. to present a Fellow or ex-Fellow of Tiinity College 
 to the following livings, viz. : — 
 
 CarrickmacroBS, in the diocese 
 
 of Clogher. 
 Ballymoney, in the diocese of 
 
 Cork. 
 St. John Sligo, in the dioceae of 
 
 Elfin. 
 Screen, in the diocese of Killaloe. 
 Drumkelner, in the diocese of 
 
 Eaphoe, 
 
 Balljrmachward, and Clonkeen, 
 
 in the diocese of Clonfert. 
 Clonallen, in the diocese of 
 
 Dronmore. 
 Lee, in the diocese of Kildare. 
 KUnavney, in the diocese of 
 
 Oasory. And 
 Drumcannon, in the diocese of 
 
 Waterford. 
 
 The perquisites of the scholars axe, free commons for fiee years 
 — a preference of chambers, for which they pay but half the 
 usual rent, and half the usual fees to their tutors ; they have 
 also a right to vote during their scholarship without payment of 
 the annual fee, and are allowed a certain sum annuaEy — about 
 thirty pounds. There is another class of students, called sizers, 
 limited to thirty, and chosen annually for their superior 
 answering in Greek and Latin: these pay nothing to their 
 tutors, have their commons free, and are partially supported 
 by the College funds ; they do not dine with the other 
 students — an absurd and invidious distinction — ^but always 
 enter the dining hall when the others have done dinner, and 
 usually partake of the fare brought from the table of the 
 fellows and fellow-commoners. 
 
 It should seem time that this disgraceful badge of servitude 
 were removed, and that the sizers as scholars and gentlemen be 
 placed on an equal footing with the other students, particularly 
 as from this class have sprung the most distinguished men the 
 University can boast of, including some of the most learned of 
 the fellows themselves. Here, it may be observed, that until 
 the year 1840 the fellows were bound to celibacy, but in this 
 
AND STUDENT. 11 
 
 year (1840) the restriction was removed, and the fellows are 
 now at liberty to marry ; but intending to make some further 
 remarks on the Act of parliament to which we refer in the next 
 chapter, we shall postpone until then the further consideration 
 of this subject. Prom what has been already observed, the reader 
 may form a tolerably correct idea of the constitution and the 
 revenues of the Dublin University ; but no one, save the senior 
 Fellows themselves,who share the spoil, can form a correct estimate 
 of its immense wealth ; one thing, however, is abundantly clear, 
 viz., that there are no less than between forty and fifty rich incum- 
 bencies in the gift and patronage of the Dublin University; but not- 
 withstanding the revenue resulting from these sources, the Board 
 still continues insatiable in its ambition to grasp at more, realizing 
 the maxim of the Eoman satirist, that the love of money-getting 
 increases in the same ratio as the money itself. Of this grasping 
 propensity on the part of the Board we shall give but two instances 
 out of many, quite enough however to prove our case ; but ere we 
 adduce our proofs, we must beg our readers to bear in mind, that 
 Trinity CoUege, Dublin, in its foundation is a strictly Protestant 
 Institution, from which Eoman Catholics are expressly excluded 
 by the letter and spirit of the cJiarter ; — the object of Elizabeth 
 in the foundation of this University being to extend the principles 
 of the Eeformation, and thereby to promote, according to her 
 views, the honor and glory of God. 
 
 No one can question the perfect right of the Queen to found 
 a college on such principles ; on the contrary, aU must do justice, 
 even at this remote period, to the Christian zeal by which she 
 was animated on the occasion to which we refer ; neither could 
 Catholics themselves reasonably complain of being excluded from 
 a University, where religious principles were taught in direct 
 opposition to their own. What then was the duty of the Board 
 
13 THE TUTOR 
 
 of Trinity College ? We answer, strictly to enforce the spirit 
 and letter of the Act, and to give full effect to the intentions of 
 the Queen, as expressed in the Charter of Foundation. But did 
 they do so? No; but they did quite the reverse; for consider- 
 ing that a lucky moment had arrived for creating another golden 
 horn, — regardless oi the Charter o/'Elizabeth, and of her inten- 
 tions, they availed themselves of the unlimited power vested in 
 them, to pass a law separating collegiate honors from coUegiate 
 emoluments ; and admitting Eoman Catholics to the former <m 
 payment of certain fees, while they wholly excluded them from 
 aU, participation in the latter. 
 
 In passing such an Act the Board violated, for the sake of 
 " filthy lucre," the law that they were bound to respect and en- 
 force ; neither had the empty honors conferred on the Eoman 
 Catholics, " on payment of fees," the effect of conciliating them, 
 when unaccompanied with those solid advantages, usually 
 bestowed as the reward of literary merit ; on the contrary, these 
 honors served them as constant themes of invective, against 
 what they called, not without cause, the injustice and bigotry 
 of th& Board of Trinity College. By this means they suc- 
 ceeded in raising such a storm of popular prejudice against 
 the principles of the Protestant Eeformation among the 
 Catholic party, that the people could never after be per- 
 suaded to do justice to these principles, of which they 
 judged, not by their own intrinsic merits, but by the mer- 
 cenary conduct of the Board of Trinity College, which they were 
 taught to look upon as an embodiment of Protestantism and a 
 sink of corruption. But what cared the Board for such, popular 
 ebullitions, so long as they secured the main point ? The people 
 might hiss, but they had the wherewithal to applaud themselves ; 
 the law that they passed proved a master stroke of policy 
 
AND STUDENT. 13 
 
 towards swelling the College funds. 'Tis true that the Catholic 
 gently generally declined the proffered honors ; numbers, how- 
 ever, accepted of them, and thus was created a golden horn, 
 which contributes up to the present day to convey its tributary 
 streams into the all-absorbing reservoirs of a college consecrated 
 to the worship of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Such is our 
 first proof of the insatiable and money-grasping character of the 
 Board of Trinity College. 
 
 Let us now come to our second proof ; but ere we do so, it may 
 be advisable to make a few preliminary remarks, as in the former 
 case. In the first place, it is to be observed, that James the 
 Krst, on his accession to the English crown, was no less zealous 
 than his cousin Elizabeth for the success of the infant College in 
 Dublin, and in the 11th year of his reign (1616) granted by 
 Charter to the University of Dublin the right to return two 
 burgesses to represent it in parliament, — a privilege that the 
 College continuedto enjoy down to the period of the Union (1820). 
 This was a gloomy era in Ireland's history. The Union being 
 carried, the English Parliament ignored the Charter of James 
 the Eirst in favour of the CoUege, which it virtually robbed of one 
 of its representatives. Sad was the fate of Alma Mater at this 
 particular crisis : pecked at on one side by a rapacious and gor- 
 mandizing Board, at another side plundered of her national and 
 political rights by the English minister, like the queen of " Sheba," 
 there was no more spirit in her ; the vital spark of genius be- 
 came whoUy extinct, and Hke the former House of Commons at 
 the opposite side of the road, she became a sort of stock-jobbing 
 concern in the hands of an irresponsible and pelf-worshipping 
 Board. Such was the melancholy condition of the Dublin 
 University up to the year 1832 — the date of the Eeform Act. At 
 this period the Charter granted by James the Eirst was revived. 
 
14 THE TUTOR 
 
 and the College is now represented in the British House of 
 Commons by two members. Having made these preliminary 
 observations, we now come to the second count in our indict- 
 ment against the Board. 
 
 It may be remembered, that, at the passing of the Eeform Act, 
 this Board manifested some symptoms of a liberal tendency, by 
 enlarging the political franchise of its members, and extending the 
 right of voting to a new class of electors, viz. , Graduates in Arts, resi- 
 dent ornon-resident, of all religious denominations. But nowcomes 
 the dodge — the characteristic dodge : no doubt, the political fran- 
 chise has been enlarged — ^but mark ! the privilege is granted only on 
 the payment of one pound annually. Failing in this necessary re- 
 quisite, the voter becomes, ipso facto, disfranchised; nevertheless 
 theBoard, always tender-hearted andconsiderate, allows an alterna- 
 tive in this case to such as may have the command of a little ready 
 cash, — compounding with such for the right of voting for life on 
 payment oi five pounds paid down. But here the Board acts with 
 strict impartiality,, applying the same rule to the Protestant as 
 to the Papist voters, — ^non-payment of the pound annually 
 becomes fatal in every case to the right of voting. Let us hope 
 that some independent member of Parliament, if such there be, 
 maybeinduced, though late in theday, to bring this grievance under 
 the immediate consideration of the House of Commons, and cancel 
 for ever an impost so disgraceful to thq Board, and so utterly in- 
 consistent with the free exercise of the elective franchise : but this 
 cannot be done without a hard struggle. The Constituency at pre- 
 sent numbers about 1,500 electors; consequently the income de- 
 rived from this little horn, amounts to a pretty round sum annually. 
 We may now see the cause why the Dublin University has pro- 
 duced so few great men since the days of Elizabeth to our own 
 time. The cause of this dearth of genius is obvious : men 
 
AND STUDENT. 15 
 
 cannot serve two masters ; they cannot love God and Mammon ; 
 they cannot preach the word of God and serve tables. 
 
 It therefore follows as a necessary sequence, that whilst they 
 devote so much time to the accumulation of wealth, which they 
 guard with the vigilance of sleepless dragons, they must neglect 
 the interests of science, the study of the liberal arts, and what 
 we hold to be of infinitely paramount importance, — the care of the 
 immortal souls committed to their charge ; hence it rarely if 
 ever happens that any work emanates from the College press, 
 stamped with the imagery of a Spencer, the native simplicity of 
 a Burns, or the romantic and descriptive imagination of a 
 Longfellow. At algebraic symbols and railway calculations they 
 seem adepts, — to these they apply a willing mind, with the sole 
 view of rendering them subservient to their money-getting 
 propensities ; but to works of fiction and imaginaiidn, they are 
 utter strangers. Neither do they seem to possess a single ray of 
 the " mens divinior," and to the disgrace of Alma Mater ; it 
 must be admitted, that for a long and dark'period of 250 years 
 she has produced but three or four poets of any note ; 'tis true 
 that Swift, Sheridan, Goldsmith, Moore, and Maginn, — ^names 
 that reflect honor on the literature of any country, — were members 
 of the Dublin University. But these were merely birds of passage. 
 The dull and frigid atmosphere of that College soon became 
 irksome to them, so they quickly winged their flight to more 
 congenial regions, and have sung some of their sweetest notes at 
 the English side of the Channel. Moore speaks of a lake in 
 the county of Wicklow over which the " Shjlark never warbles ;" 
 and the Muses may be said to have the same anti- 
 pathy to Trinity College as the skylark to Glendelough, — 
 so much so that when forced to reside for a short season 
 within its dingy walls, they sink inta what physicians 
 
16 THE TUTOR 
 
 call a comatose state. Having no Helicon or Parnassus 
 from which to draw their inspiration, they become tuneless, 
 nay even mute ; the consequence is that Trinity College ha? 
 earned for herself the unenviable soubriquet of " the Silent 
 Sister" from the English Universities : — how contagious is the 
 influence of locality over the human mind in elevatiag or 
 depressing it ! The Old Abbey, " the ivy-mantled tower," 
 the churchyard where repose the remains of the honored dead, — 
 these haunts and scenes of our earlier days still live fresh in our 
 recoEections ; they seem like the green spots- oi the desert, 
 which we fondly revisit with so solemn a sense of reverential 
 awe, that in walking over such hallowed spots we tread with 
 light and cautious step, fearing to profane the turf that covers 
 the sacred remains of those who, " lost to sight, are ever dear 
 to memory ;" places such as these — so solemn, so hallowed, 
 give a fixedness to our conduct, and a serious turn to our 
 wandering thoughts, reminding us that " here we have no abiding 
 city j" that " dust we are, and unto dust we shall return." On 
 the other hand, there are places so abhorrent to our feelings, 
 so associated in our minds with painful recollections, that we can 
 never think of them without sorrow, or approach them without 
 pain ; — to this latter class of ill-omened place belongs the 
 Dublin University, where the Student has passed so many 
 unhappy years. Fain would he extract the bitter arrow of re- 
 membrance ; but, alas ! it has entered too deep, and still rankles 
 in the wound, which seems to bleed afresh, even after the lapse 
 of twenty years. 
 
 But if the case of the Student is not an isolated one, — 
 if feUow-suiferers can alleviate affliction, he is not without his 
 consolation. Tew have quitted that University who have not ■ 
 felt as a prisoner, who has at length escaped from the damp va- 
 
AND STUDENT. 17 
 
 pours of a dungeon, where for years he has been immured ; and as 
 the captive thinks with horror of his solitary cell, which he never 
 wishes to revisit-:— so the student who has left the Dublin Uni- 
 versity never " casts one longing, lingering look behind;" much less 
 does he wish to return to a spot in after-years, which can only re- 
 vive in his mind the most painful recollections. We now take leave 
 of the Board of Trinity College, but in doing so feel ourselves in 
 duty bound to devote the following Chapter to a biographical 
 sketch of one oddfellow ; — a worthy member of their body, who 
 had been Vice-Provost in our Student's day, and whose singular 
 eccentricities and ascetic habits have furnished the students 
 with inexhaustible materials for many a practical joke and 
 humorous anecdote, many of which no doubt must be still fresh 
 in the recollection of the members of the University. 
 
18 THE TTJTOE 
 
 ' CHAPTEK III. 
 
 THE REV. DE. BABEETT, TICE-PEOVOST. 
 
 Thus Tophet look'd; so grinn'd the brawling fiend, 
 Whilst frighted prelates bow'd, and call'd him friend. 
 Our Mother-Church, with half-averted sight, 
 Blush'd as she bless'd her grisly proselyte ; 
 Hosannahs rang thro' Hell's tremendous borders. 
 And Satan's self had thoughts of taking Orders. — Geay. 
 
 The specimen of old mortality, who is the subject of the 
 following memoir, had been Vice-Provost of Trinity in the 
 Student's day ; but as he has fretted his hour upon the staffs, 
 and has been long since gathered to his people, we are now at 
 liberty to give his name, and to inform the reader that the in- 
 dividual whom we -are about to introduce to his notice, was 
 no less a personage than the Eev. Dr. Barrett, F.T.C.D., better 
 known in college by the name of Jacky Barrett, whose strange 
 peculiarities and singular eccentricities must be still fresh in the 
 recollection of many members of the University ; at least of 
 such of them as have been the cotemporaries of the Student. 
 Of the parentage of this extraordinary man we profess our total 
 ignorance, not knowing whether he be descended from the 
 ancient kings of Ireland, or sprung from one of the squatters of 
 the Bog of Alien — we rather incline to the latter opinion ; but 
 this is a point wholly immaterial : one thing, however, is quite 
 certain, viz., that he held the high rank of Vice-Provost of 
 Trinity College when George IV. paid his first and last visit to 
 
AND STUDENT. 19 
 
 Ireland, in the year 1821 ; but as the character of this extra- 
 ordinary man has been already graphically sketched by one of 
 the wittiest popular writers of the day, we feel that we cannot 
 convey to the reader a more correct portrait of the indiyidual, 
 than by giving it to the pubUc in the very words of the gifted 
 writer to whom we refer, and the accuracy of whose sketch we 
 are ready to indorse from our own personal knowledge. 
 
 " Dr. Barrett was, at the time I speak of, about sixty years of 
 age, scarcely five feet in height, and of somewhat diminutive 
 stature, lessened by a stoop ; his face was thin, pointed, and 
 russet-coloured; his nose so aquiline, as nearly to meet his pro- 
 jecting chin ; and his small grey eyes, red and bleary, peered 
 beneath his well-worn cap with a glance of mingled fear and 
 suspicion. His dress was a suit of the rustiest black, threadbare 
 and patched in . several places ; while a pair of large brown 
 leather slippers, far too big for his feet, imparted a sliding 
 motion to his walk, that added an air of indescribable meanness 
 to his appearance ; a gown that had been worn twenty years, 
 browned and coated with the learned dust of the Fagil, coveied 
 his rusty habiliments. Such were his externals. Within, a 
 greater or more profound scholar never graced the walls of the 
 College : a distinguished Grecian, learned in all the refinements 
 of a hundred dialects ; a deep Orientalist, cunning in all the 
 varieties of the Eastern languages, and able to reason with a 
 Moonshee or chat with a Persian Ambassador ; with a mind that 
 never ceased inquiring, he possessed a memory ridiculous for its 
 retentiveness even of trifles, — ^no character in history, no event in 
 chronology was unknown to him ; and he was referred to by his 
 cotemporaries, for information in doubtful or disputed cases, as 
 men consulted a lexicon or dictionary. With an intellect thus 
 
 stored with deep and far-sought knowledge in the affairs of the 
 
 c2 
 
20 THE TUTCJK 
 
 world, he was a child. Without the walls of the College, for 
 above forty years, he had never ventured half as many times ; 
 his farthest excursion was to the Bank of Ireland, to which he 
 made occasional visits to fund the ample income di his office, 
 and add to the wealth which already had acquired for him a well- 
 merited repute of being the richest man in College. 
 
 " His little intercourse with the world had left him, in' all his 
 habits and manners, in every respect exactly as when he entered 
 college, — nearly half a century before ; and as he had literally 
 risen from the ranks in the University, all the peculiarities of 
 voice, accent, and pronunciation which distinguished him as a 
 youth, adhered to him in old-age : this was singular enough, 
 and formed a very ludicrous contrast with the learned and deep 
 tone of his conversation ; but another peculiarity, still more 
 striking, belonged to him. When he became a Fellow he was 
 obliged by the rules of the College to take Holy Orders, as a 
 sine qua non to his holding his Fellowship ; this he did, as he 
 would have assumed a red hood, or a blue one, as Bachelor of 
 Laws or Doctor of Medicine, and thought no more of it ; but 
 in the moment of passionate excitement, the venerable character 
 with which he was invested was qtdte forgotten, and he would 
 utter some sudden and terrific oath, more productive of mirth to 
 his auditors than was seemly, and for which, once spoken, the 
 poor Doctor felt the greatest shame and contrition. These oaths 
 were no leas singular than forcible, and many a trick was prac- 
 tised and many a plan devised, that the learned Vice-Provost 
 might be entrapped into his favourite exclamation of, " May the 
 devil admire me," which no place or, presence could restrain." 
 
 So numerous are the anecdotes told of this singular character, 
 that it is extremely difficult to tell, at this remote period, which 
 are genuine and which not; but we ourselves canb ear testimony 
 
AND STUDENT. 21 
 
 to the fidelity and general accuracy of the above sketch, the 
 writer of which adds some hmnorsome tales of tlie same cha- 
 racter, in which Mickey Free has acted a prominent part, and 
 which we should freely transfer to our pages, were we not ap- 
 prehensive of having already drawn too largely on the learned 
 lore of the facetious novelist, and thereby realized the fable of 
 the Jackdaw and the FeacoeJc ; but one tale our cotemporary has 
 omitted, which we take leave to supply. When first the Eev. 
 Dr. Barrett satfor Fellowship, he experienced a disappointment; — 
 few are fortunate enough to bear away the golden prize the first 
 trial ; but the examination being over, the disappointed candidate 
 thus addressed the Eev. Dr. Sandes — " Do you see me, Sandes ? 
 I have missed fellowship this time ; but do you see me, I 
 shan't miss it next time." And the Doctor was resolved to keep 
 his word, for he lost not a moment in resuming his studies for 
 the ensuing examination, wMch usually takes place once a year ; 
 and he commenced in the following peculiar and cha- 
 racteristic manner : — ^having arranged a certain number of chairs 
 daily in his study, corresponding to the number of fellowship can- 
 didates, and he himself personating an examiner, he commenced 
 his self-examination by proposing a question to the first chair ; 
 but the answer not proving satisfactory, he passed it to the next 
 chair, and so on, until he came to the chair which he himself was 
 supposed to occupy, to which he distinctly repeated the question, 
 and the right answer being given, he exultingly exclaimed, Beote, 
 Dominie Barrett — "right, Mr. Barrett." This form of self- 
 examination he went through daily for the space of twelve months, 
 when he again sat for fellowship, and was eminently successful — 
 thus realizing the promise that he made to his friend Dr. Sandes, 
 twelve months before, that " he should not miss fellowship next 
 time." His memory, as before observed, was "ridiculous for his 
 
22 THE TUTOR 
 
 retentiveness even of trifles ;" nevertheless he was so ignorant 
 of the ways of this world, as not to be able to distinguish the 
 common poultry on which he was in the daily habit of feasting, 
 from foreign birds of passage ; and when puzzled ag to the species 
 of this class of birds, he usually referred to his books of 
 ornithology to satisfy his .doubts. The singularly eccentric habits 
 of this extraordinary man rendered him a butt of ridicule to all, 
 particularly the junior students ; and the practical jokes played 
 off at his expense, might furnish subject-matter for an interesting 
 octavo, and were the more gratifying to the students, and the 
 more annoying to him, that he was a man of the most violent 
 and irritable temper — ^his extremely slovenly appearance, as he 
 was hardly ever known to wear a clean shirt,* made him quite 
 contemptible in the eyes of the students, who availed themselves 
 of every opportunity to annoy the Eeverend Doctor when they 
 felt themselves safe in doing so. One more anecdote we shall 
 relate as to an insult offered to him, which Charles O'MaUey 
 attributes to his servant, Mickey Free — but which we have heard 
 told of a student ; but this discrepancy is not material : the story 
 is substantially true. The tale as we have heard it runs thus :— 
 A student on one occasion seeing the Eeverend Doctor crossing 
 the inner court of college on his way to the College library, 
 popped his head out of'the window, and shouted '^Sweep," 
 at the top of Ms voice. The quick eye of the Doctor instantly 
 enabled him to mark the chamber from which the voice issued ; 
 and he ordered the student to be summonedfor contempt before the 
 
 * Since, the present work has gone to press, we have it on the 
 authority of an eminent physician, who attended this singular man in 
 his last momentSj that he went out of this world naked as he entered it 
 — literally without a shirt to his back — a want that the undertaker had 
 to supply by procuring a I'eady made one from town. 
 
AND STUDENT. 23 
 
 Board on the following Saturday : the case excited considerable 
 interest, and was a source of great amusement to the 
 students, who assembled in groups in front of the Board 
 room to learn the result. The Doctor appeared in propria persona, 
 and accused the student of contempt on the grounds already 
 alleged ; the latter being called upon to answer the charge, 
 defended himself with admirable tact and dexterity. " My answer 
 to the charge," said the student, "is this ; that for some days 
 past the smoke issuing from my chimney has proved so intolerable, 
 that I felt my only remedy was to abate the nuisance by a clearance 
 operation. I accordingly raised my window, and called out 
 ' sweep,' thinking that some of the craft might be within hearing ; 
 by a singular coincidence, the Yice-Provost happened to be 
 in the act of crossing the court at that identical moment" — 
 "But," shoutedthe indignant Doctor, "I was the only one in the 
 court atthetime." At this the gravity of the seniors was-for the 
 moment overcome, and they became literally convulsed with 
 laughter. The charge could not be sustained, and the arch wag 
 walked off in triumph. But the days of Jackey Barrett were 
 now drawing to a close ; — he had played his part successfolly for 
 half a century on the College boards, and now the last scene 
 arrived which was to end his strange even^ul history. Atropos 
 suddenly appeared— cut the thread of life, and Jackey Barrett 
 was no more. The particulars of his last moments we have not 
 been able to learn — would that we could I — but they may be 
 readily inferred : as a man Hves, so shall he die. The Doctor 
 was a man whoUy destitute of religion, who lived without Grod in 
 the world. What, then, must have been his feelings when called 
 suddenly off to appear before that Gdd, whose gifts he had 
 abused, and whose ministry he had desecrated, — to give an 
 account of his stewardship? — We leave to the serious and deep- 
 
24 
 
 THE TUTOR 
 
 thinking portion of our readers to answer this all-absorbing 
 question : and to deduce a useful moral from the melancholy 
 end of this highly gifted but ill-fated man ! His immense 
 personal property, exceeding £100,000, he bequeathed by his 
 last will to the Eoard of Trinity College — to the prejudice of his 
 nieces, his legitimate heirs ; but owing to some defect or legal 
 informality in the will, it was subsequently set aside by a decree 
 of the -Court of Chanctery — a decision that afforded general 
 satisfaction at the time ; but despite his immense wealth he died 
 friendless and neglected. It is not to be supposed that the 
 nieces, whom he tried to disinherit, should shed a tear on the 
 bier of their unnatural uncle ; even the very Board to whom 
 he bequeathed his immense wealth were glad to be rid of a 
 man whom they must have long considered a perfect bore, and 
 an intolerable nuisance. Nevertheless, he was a man of gigantic 
 mind and superhuman knowledge ; but being educated in an 
 University whose motto is, "pficmda prwium quoerenda est," 
 he soon caught the moral contagion, which adhered to him 
 for life, at the close o£ which he "went out from, their 
 presence a leper as white as snow." * Had we known or even 
 heard that this man ever performed a solitary act of kindness to 
 his fellow-man for the sake of humanity, we should be happy to 
 record it ; but in the absence of even hearsay evidence on this 
 point, we are bound to silence, and must leave him in the hands 
 of a merciful Eedeemer, whose aR-seeing eye can explore teith a 
 glance the inmost recesses of the human soul, and may perchance 
 discover some redeeming traits,, which the gross eye of sinful 
 man is incapable of discerning, and which the writer of the 
 present sketch has no power to record. 
 
 * 2 Kings, V. 27. 
 
AND STUDENT. 25 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 QtjoD se dolosi spes refulserit auri, 
 
 Corvos poetas et poetrias picas, 
 
 Manare credas Pegaseimn melos. — PsEsins. 
 
 Having in Chapter II. given an abridged history of Trinity 
 College, Dublin, from its foundation, — ^its body corporate and 
 politic, — ^its immense revenues, vested in a self-constituted 
 Board, — the principles upon which this Board has governed the 
 University, and disposed of its revenues — ^the effect of this line of 
 policy upon the moral and religious character of the people of 
 Ireland, we now proceed with a sketch of the Junior Fellows ; but 
 ere we enter upon so delicate a topic, we deem it our duty to pro- 
 mise that our observations are not meant to apply to the present 
 race of Fellows, — of whom we know nothing, but rather to the 
 Fellows of bygone times, many, if not all of whom have gone, 
 long ere this, to their account. We must, therefore, reverse in 
 this case the proverb, of " de mortms nihil nisi iomim," substi- 
 tuting de vivis for de mortuis ; nevertheless should any of our 
 cotemporaiies make a personal application of our observations 
 this we cannot help ; we have only to repeat that these observa- 
 tions are meant to be general, not special, to refer to the past, 
 not to the present ; to the dead rather than the living ; to the 
 men of other days, not to our own cotemporaries. This ex- 
 planation we give once for aU, and now proceed with our narra- 
 
36 THE TUTOR 
 
 tive, which for the sake of perspicuity we shall consider under 
 the four following heads : — 
 
 1st. The incomes of the FeUowsj and whence derived. 
 
 3nd. The means used by them to increase these incomes. 
 
 3rd. The moral effect of these means on the mind, not 
 only of the public in general, but of the FeUows 
 themselves in particular. 
 
 4th. The laws passed by the College Board to restrain the 
 avaricious propensities of the Junior Fellows ; and 
 the natural effect of these laws, as regards the personal 
 intercourse between tutor and student. And — 
 1st. As to the incomes of the Fellows on the foundation ; 
 these may be averaged at about £90 a-year, or thereabouts, to 
 each Fellow ; but this of course independent of free commons, 
 chambers, &c. ; in addition to which they generally hold certain 
 sinecure offices in college, by which their incomes are consider- 
 ably increased ; but their chief income they derive from pupils. 
 We have already described the different classes into which the 
 students are divided, beginning from the lowest up to the highest, 
 viz.. Junior Freshmen and Senior Freshmen, Junior Sophisters 
 and Senior Sophisters. The students on entering college, and 
 for the first year, are called Junior Freshmen, — vulgarly, gibs ; the 
 second year they become Senior Freshmen, and the two last 
 years they are called Junior and Senior Sophisters. In the 
 time of our Student the Junior Fellows were allowed to take a 
 certain number of pupils in each class, the limit being thirty- 
 four. The Senior Fellows do not take pupils; each student 
 pays to his tutor, or rather to the bursar — whose duty it is to 
 receive such fees — about sixteen guineas a-year ; this sum covers 
 the expense for tuition, and, supposing the tutor to have com- 
 pleted his full number of thirty-four in each class, this multiplied 
 
AND STUDENT. Z7 
 
 by sixteen, and the product by four gives about the net income 
 to the tutor from this source. Our Student's tutor was one of the 
 lucky ones, having completed his full number; consequently his 
 income from pupils alone at the period to which we refer coiild 
 not fall far short of £3,500 per annum, and this exclusive of his 
 income on the foundation, with sundry other pickings; but 
 the incomes of the Junior Fellows, generally, may be set down at 
 an average of about £1,500 a-year, though many of them had 
 completed their full number, as well as our lucky tutor, and, con- 
 sequently their incomes were equal to his — this produced a spirit 
 of rivalry for pupils among the PeUows — anything Imt creditable 
 to themselves ; each had their connexion and emissaries abroad 
 canvassing and touting for pupils ; and the effect of this pupil- 
 ising mania was considerably to lower the moral influence of the 
 tutor, and even to affect his impartiality in the distribution of 
 prizes, or, as they are called in the Dublin University, prtsminms. 
 Instances are innumerable of examiners cheating students out 
 of prsemiums (we must be pardoned the use of a strong, but 
 usual expression), which were given away by them to their own 
 pupils, from competitors infinitely superior in talent and learning; 
 in fact, the names of the examiners for each division being 
 known, the students could form a tolerably correct opinion as to 
 the prsemium men in such divisions — ^the examiner only requiring 
 some plausible pretext to give the praemium to -his own pupils, 
 away from competitors infinitely their superiors in talent and 
 learning. 
 
 Thus avarice, like an epidemic, infected the minds of all the 
 PeEows at the time : the rule was general — at least, om- Student 
 knew but of very few exceptions ; — money, and money alone 
 seemed their only end and aim, — the Polar Star by which they 
 steered their course. Had the University existed in the days of 
 
28 THE THTOE 
 
 the immortal bard of Avon, no doubt we should read of Queen 
 Mab paying her nocturnal visits to the Fellows of Queen Eliza- 
 beth's College, escorted by a cavalcade of embryo students, and 
 lashing her tiny team o'er the slumbering temples of the Fellows, 
 inspiring them with enchanting visions of bishoprics, pluralities, 
 extended college demesnes, irrigated and fertilized by a fabled 
 Lydean river ; and being roused in the morning from this de- 
 lightful reverie by a loud post-knock, the dreamer may find the 
 visions of the night realized by an accoimt of a vacant fat 
 college Kving quite at his service should he condescend to accept 
 of it, which he did not always deign to do, it being no extraor- 
 dinary circumstance, at least, in our Student's day, if not at 
 present, to see college livings ranging from £800 to J£1,000 a- 
 year going about begging for acceptance at the hands of some 
 charitable Fellow, being rejected by all, as was frequently the 
 case, until they actually fell to the lot of the Junior FeUow, who 
 had obtained his Fellowship only a few days before ; in a word, 
 the income derived from the pupUizing system at the time of 
 which we write was such, that no living in the gift of the college 
 could compensate for the loss of it. 
 
 Such were the means used by the Junior Fellows to increase 
 their incomes. The Board witnessed, with regret, this rivalry 
 for wealth on the part of the jimiors ; but they themselves had 
 set the example, and could not now consistently censure the 
 juniors, who were only walkiag in their own footsteps. The 
 young eagle feeds on the same quarry as the parent bird, nay 
 often soars infinitely beyond him — thus it was with the Junior 
 FeUows. However the Board resolved to give some check to 
 this growing evil, and their first step was to pass a law enjoining 
 celibacy on the Junior Fellows during their residence in College: 
 such a law they hoped might have the effect of inducing such 
 
AND STUDENT. 29 
 
 fellow3 as might be inclined to matrimony to go out on College 
 livings, in order to make way for more eflSicient substitutes. No 
 doubt this law did produce the desired effect to a certain extent; 
 some few of the Fellows availed themselves of it, got mamed, and 
 retired on College livings, — others, on the contrary, tried to evade 
 it by clandestine marriages. It also lay open to some very grave 
 objections of a religious nature, and was repealed, as before 
 observed, by a subsequent Act of the Board in 1840, since the 
 passing of which the Fellows are allowed to marry. 
 
 We also learn that by another Act of the Board, a more 
 equitable rule has been applied to the system of pupils, by which 
 they are equally divided among the Fellows generally ; it being 
 enacted that no Fellow shall be allowed more than a certain 
 number of pupils until the others have got their full complement; 
 so that, in the event of a student now applying to be admitted a 
 pupU to a favourite tutor who had completed his number, 
 such a pupil according to the present rules would be handed 
 over to the Fellow whose numbers were incomplete or deficient ; 
 but these are private arrangements, which entirely concern the 
 Fellows themselves, with which the pubHe-have very little to do. 
 
 No doubt the two Acts referred to, viz., the removal of the 
 restriction of celibacy, and the equitable distribution of the 
 pupils, have had a concurrent effect in adding to the indepen- 
 dence and respectability of the Junior Fellows, by putting 
 a total stop to the rage for pupil-hunting, which prevailed 
 to such an extent in the time of our Student ; but on 
 the other hand, such an arrangement must have had the 
 effect-of considerably inteiTupting the personal intercourse that 
 formerly existed between the Tutor and Student ; they are no 
 longer bound to one another by the strong ties of mutual in- 
 terest ; the tutor is now quite independent of his pupils, and has 
 
30 THE TUTOR 
 
 no longer occasion to solicit their influence in advancing his in- 
 terest : but the converse does not hold good ; the student is not 
 equally independent of his tutor, consequently the benefit of the 
 change is entirely on the side of the tutor, and against the 
 student ; they now stand towards each other in the somewhat 
 analogous relation of an absentee landlord to his tenant ; — " out 
 of sight, out of mind," is a trite but true proverb. The land- 
 lord who is no longer an eye-witness to the struggles of his 
 tenant, who can no longer hear the tenant's tale of woe from 
 his own lips, grows insensibly indifferent to his wants, and 
 finally loses aU sympathy for his sufferings ; the same reasoning 
 applies epari imder the new College regime, to the case of the 
 Tutor and Student. A kind tutor has often the power of being 
 of infinite service to his pupil, not only in his undergraduate 
 course, but even in after-life. Should a case arise — of no rare 
 occurrence — of a student getting into difficulties fromimforeseen 
 causes, without any fault of his own, under such circumstances 
 a Eeverend tutor, from his high rank and extensive connection, 
 is never at a loss for an opportunity of recommending private 
 pupUs to the student, as a means of extricating him from his 
 difficulties ; consequently, the pupil is vitally interested in cul- 
 tivating the favourable opinion of his tutor, and in drawing 
 the cords of friendship as closely as possible between him and 
 his Eeverend patron. Union is strength, approved and sanc- 
 tioned by God himself, who proves the effect of disunion by the 
 example of a divided house : we, therefore, feel that, in advo- 
 cating and inculcating this general principle, we only contribute 
 our mite to the common fond of human happiness, and best 
 discharge the duty that we owe to God and our country. Im- 
 pressed with the truth of this opinion, we fear that the good 
 resulting from the two acts of the Board already referred to, may 
 
AND STUDENT. 31 
 
 be more than counterbalanced by evils springing from the 
 same source ; but we repeat, that these acts of the Board, be they 
 good or bad, only affect the interest of the Fellows themselves, 
 but leave the abuses of the system of which we complain wholly 
 intact. It is true that the Board of Trinity College has of late 
 years granted some scraps of reform, but the obvious tendency 
 of all their acts has been, not to advance the interests of litera- 
 ture or the welfare of the students, but to increase and extend 
 their own wealth and influence : this is instanced in the extension 
 of the elective franchise, in 1832, to anew class of voters, but 
 only on payment of a pound annually, of which we have spoken 
 in the preceding chapter ; in a word, money ever was and stiU con- 
 tinues to be the Moloch to which the Board of Trinity College 
 bends the pliant knee, realizing . by such conduct the maxim of 
 the legacy -hunter in Horace, that " birth and merit unaccom- 
 panied with wealth are more contemptible than the sea-weed."* 
 Such, alas ! is the character of Alma Mater, consistent through- 
 out the whole of her history in one thing alone, viz., the love 
 of " filthy lucre." ■Pounded by Queen Elizabeth in order to 
 " throw her bread upon the waters,'' and to give eflfect to the 
 principles of the Reformation, she has wholly frustrated the 
 religious intentions of the royal founder ; turned back in her 
 heart to the flesh-pots of Egypt, and proved herself a complete 
 deadlock to the free circulation of the Scriptures, and to the 
 consequent growth of Protestantism in Ireland. Our blessed 
 Eedeemer in the days of his humanity, entered the Temple at 
 Jerusalem, upset the tables of the money changers, and the seats 
 of such as sold pigeons : observing, " My house shall be called 
 a house of prayer ; but ye have made it a den of thieves." The 
 
 * Et genus et virtus nisi cum re vilior alga est. — Horace. 
 
32 AND STUDENT. 
 
 same language may be addressed with no less truth and force to 
 the Board of the DubUn University in its corporate capacity. 
 
 We have now given to the public a bold but impartial account 
 of Trinity College since its foundation, and have removed the 
 mask under the guise of which the Board of that College have 
 long hid their deep, selfish, and political designs ; they are now 
 shown up to the! world in their true colours — this we believe 
 to be the first time in the history of the University, that any 
 writer has had the moral courage to speak out with so much 
 truth in the face of these Reverend Doctors : no one living within 
 the sphere of their influence could dare to take such a liberty 
 without jeopardising his own interest for life ; hence it is that 
 so little is known of the secret springs by which the national 
 machinery of the Board is put in motion ; but our Student is 
 free from such influences ; — he neither courts the favor of the 
 Board, nor fears its hostility ; at the same time he trusts that, in 
 expressing himself with so much freedom, he is wholly uninflu- 
 enced by any unworthy motives — his object being to improve, 
 not to vilify; to reform rather than to abuse. Convinced that public 
 good must result from the exposure of acknowledged public abuses 
 — and on theother hand, that the "siuppresdo veri" is the worst line 
 of policy the University could adopt. When abuses grow up in 
 any system by length of time, or that natural tendency to decay 
 inherent in human affairs, the best friend to such a system is 
 he who is ready to inquire into such abuses with a view of 
 applying a timely and effectual remedy. This is the only means 
 left to arrest the progress of the disease, and preserve the vi- 
 tality of the system. What would be thought of the physician 
 who, knowing the existence of a deep-seated disease, should 
 nevertheless try to cure it by the use of some external applications ? 
 Under such treatment the patient may linger for a, short season. 
 
AND STUDENT. 33 
 
 but must ultimately fall a victim to the fatal malady, that like a 
 caukerworm secretly feeds upon his vitals, and undermines his 
 constitution. The same reasoning applies byanalogy to the political 
 as to the physical constitution. In such cases nostrums avail 
 nothing : the seat of the disease must be probed — the true remedy 
 applied, else the patient must inevitably languish and die ; con- 
 sequently, those who direct public attention to the diseased state 
 of the DubUn University at the present time, should be considered 
 her best friends, — as a remedy may stiU be applied even at the 
 eleventh hour, and the life of the patient, to keep up the metaphor, 
 be stUl prolonged. But in this case, procrastination must prove 
 fatal. Already a rival coUegehas started into life in Ireland, called 
 the "Queen's College," having the same power to confer degrees 
 as the Dublin University, and only yielding to the old establish- 
 ment, not in learning, but in wealth. The members of the latter 
 College are beginning tc^ decrease, whilst their wealth is on the 
 increase : this seems a natural consequence of the present state 
 of things, which, under a free popular constitution, cannot be 
 longer tolerated. Wealth drawn from the people must be ulti- 
 mately rendered subservient to the public interest. Grasping 
 monopoly may divert the stream for a time from its legiti- 
 mate course, but it must eventually return into its natural 
 channel. Trinity College now ceases to be a national establish- 
 ment ; it consequently becomes a proper subject for the con- 
 sideration of the Legislature what is to be done with the CoUege 
 lands and immense revenues in the gift and patronage of the 
 Dublin University, for it seems a perfect absurdity that a few 
 men should be permitted to monopolise and appropriate such 
 immense wealth to their own use and benefit, without making 
 any adequate public retm-n. The very idea of such a state of 
 things in the present advanced age is truly preposterous. 
 
34 THE TUTOB 
 
 Corporate reform has already been granted ; collegiate reform 
 is no less necessary, being founded on the same principle, the 
 soundness of which no one can question. Should the author 
 of the " Tutor and the Student" be a humble instrument in 
 directing the purifying streams of reform, though late in the day, 
 into an institution infested with the mould of time and the 
 incrustations of bygone days; should he be a means of 
 making the College what Queen Elizabeth intended it to be, the 
 cradle of the arts, the home of the muses, — a temple consecrated to 
 the pure worship of the Holy and undivided Trinity — not what 
 worldly-minded men have made it, viz., a sort of banking esta- 
 blishment, where immense sums of public money are deposited on 
 false or uncertain securities for the benefit of the few to the pre- 
 judice of the many ; — should the Student's humble efforts have 
 the effect of bringing about this happy anticipated consummation, 
 the object of the writer in the present case would be fully 
 realized ; neither does he seek any higher reward than the con- 
 sciousness of having aided in the refonnation of a University to 
 which he himself belongs, and of rendering it a blessing rather 
 than a curse to a country endeared to him by the strongest ties 
 of natural affection, as being the land of his birth, the home of 
 his earliest days, associated in his mind with all the fondest re- 
 collections — the land for which " God has done everything, and 
 man nothing." Of the Fellows who anticipated the act of 
 celibacy above referred to by a prior marriage, was our Keverend 
 Tutor ; but this marriage was of so singular and romantic a 
 character, that we deem it of sufficient interest to devote a 
 chapter to a detail of the particulars, such as they have been 
 related to the Student on first entering the University. The 
 following account may be relied on as substantially true. 
 
AND STUDENT. 35 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT MAREIAGE. 
 
 Cathlebn Mavoumeen, the grey dawn is breaking, 
 The hom of the hunter is heard on the hill; 
 
 The lark from its light wing the bright dew is shaking ; 
 Cathleen Mavoumeen, why slumbering stiU ?— CBonoH. 
 
 XoXettov ro fi^ (j>iK-^(TaC 
 XaXevov Se Xal (j>i\rjaaC 
 j^aXtTTwrEgo Se Trdira)*' 
 airoTvyxavEiv fiKovvTa. — ^AnaceeoN. 
 
 Yes, loving is a painfal thrill, 
 And not to love, more painfal still ; 
 But surely 'tis the worst of pain 
 To love and not be loved again. 
 
 'TwA3 a heavenly night, — the last week of May 1819. The stars 
 with which the blue vault of the firmament was studded, twinkled 
 with more than ordinary brilliancy on that night, and the pale 
 silvery moon, emblem of peace and love, presided o'er the scene, 
 shedding her benign influence on the wondrous works of crea- 
 tion. Such a night was peculiarly suited to the assignations of 
 lovers, who long to " meet by moonlight alone,'-' and to tell their 
 love tales when only the moon and conscious stars can witness 
 
 d2 
 
36 THE TUTOE 
 
 'and bear testimony to the sanctity of their vows, and the 
 fervor of their mntually plighted loves. The College clock had 
 just struck half-past one — all the drowsy denizens of the Irish 
 metropolis had retired to rest long before this hour, and not 
 a sound was heard save that of the old watchman, as with 
 heavy footsteps he walked his weary rounds, resembling a 
 somnambulist rather than a warder, and crying out ever and 
 anon, "A fine fair night; all's well." In such a night and 
 at such an hour the College gate grated on its hinges, and two 
 gentlemen comings out took the direction of Stephen's Green, 
 whence they wended their way to the left, passing into Baggot 
 Street. Of these gentlemen, one seemed an elderly man, tall 
 and slight, wearing a white neckcloth, with a cloak thrown care- 
 lessly over his person ; judging from his costume and appearance, 
 he might pass for a Church of England clergyman : the other 
 was a fashionably dressed man, about thirty-five, apparently ex- 
 cited in his manner, and looking as though he was returning 
 from a dinner party, where he had indulged rather too freely, 
 though not to excess. Both appeared in close and serious con- 
 versation. Having come into Baggot Street, they stood for a few 
 minutes, as if engaged in some important consultation, when the 
 elder man walked slowly in advance down Baggot Street, whilst 
 his friend, who lingered behind, approaching a splendid mansion, 
 and pausing for a moment, raised his eyes to the upper story, 
 and then seizing the knocker gave a smart knock at the door; 
 no answer having been given, he repeated the knock, but- to no 
 effect ; the inmates seemed to be in the act of enjoying that 
 balmy sleep, which the poet teUs us makes his ready visits only 
 where fortune smiles I Here the gentleman, after some hesita- 
 tion, rejoined his friend, who seemed as if watching the result of 
 his Nicodemus visit; but after a moment's consultation the 
 
AND STUDEKT. 37 
 
 younger man returned again and gave a louder knock, accom- 
 panied with a louder ring of the bell : this produced the desired 
 effect — the front window of the second-floor room was raised, and 
 a voice, evidently that of a lady, cried out, " Who's there ?" 
 
 " 'Tis I, love," was the answer ; "pray tell your father that I 
 want to see him instantly on most important business." 
 
 Here the window was softly closed, and a servant descend- 
 ing with a lighted candle, opened the fcont-door, and ushered 
 , our Eerorend-Tirtor into the back parlour, teUing him on enter- 
 ing, that she had delivered his message to her master, and that 
 he would be down stairs presently. These words were hardly 
 spoken, when a tall, venerable-looking gentleman entered the 
 room, with a dressing-gown wrapped round him, wearing a 
 nightcap, with his feet in slippers. The old gentleman evidently 
 seemed in a state of great alarm, — ^not an unnatural feeling, con- 
 sidering the hour of the night, and the nature of the message. 
 Exing his eyes in amazement on the Eeverend gentleman, he ex- 
 claimed, " What under Heaven can be the meaning of such a visit 
 as this, at such an hour of the night ? — something alarming and 
 most extraordinary must have occurred — ^nothing else could 
 justify such an intrusion at the dead of the night. Explain 
 yourself, and that instantly ; — what can you mean ? — ^what has 
 occurred ?" To this our Eeverend Tutor cooUy replied, " Pray, 
 kind sir, be not alarmed ; an extraordinary circumstance has 
 certainly occurred, though not an alarming one, to justify the 
 present intrusion. Let me, therefore, beseech of you to hear me 
 patiently for a few moments,— and I shall explain aU." 
 
 "Proceed, sir," said Mr. D. " You, sir," continued the 
 Eeverend Tutor, "are no stranger to the long and mutual attach- 
 between your daughter and me ; 'tis true, sir, that you have 
 declined to sanction my addresses, in consequence of my deter- 
 
38 THE TUTOK 
 
 mination not to retire from the University on a college living ; 
 but I must now come at once to the point, and inform you, that, 
 whilst supping this night with a college friend, I have been 
 informed that the Board of Trinity College intend passing a law 
 to-morrow enjoining celibacy on the Jimior Bellows during their 
 residence in college. The effect of this law, if passed, mast be to 
 cause a total separation between your daughter and me. This 
 being a case involving our mutual happiness, I felt myself in duty 
 bound not to lose a moment in communicating to you the 
 determination of the Board : this is my apology for the 
 present unseasonable visit." — " Sir !" answered Mr. D., " this 
 apology is not sufficient justification for your conduct ; 'tis true, 
 as you observe, I have not sanctioned your addresses to my 
 daughter, — neither do I ever mean to do so — but my objection 
 to you is not alone that you decUne to retire on a college living, 
 but that you are a gay man, and no ornament to the sacred 
 profession to which youbelong, and which you use only as an engine 
 for extorting money, and a cloak to hide those vicious propen- 
 sities which are a disgrace to the clerical character, and which are 
 notorious to the public, notwithstanding your efforts to conceal 
 them. As a parent, sir, I feel myself in duty bound to consult the 
 spiritual as well as the temporal interest of my child, and 
 therefore my resolution is fixed, never to consent to her union with 
 any but a christian man, — ^which you are not. I must therefore 
 request of you to quit my house this instant, and to consider my 
 present n^ative as final and decisive." These words were 
 uttered in an audible tone of voice, and with stem determination 
 of manner. The Keverend Doctor calmly replied, "Very well,' sir; 
 but ere I retire perhaps you may communicate the object of my 
 visit to Mrs. D. and your daughter." " Certainly not," was the 
 reply ; " I am quite aware of Mrs. D.'s opinion regarding you. 
 
AND STUDENT. 39 
 
 and have no occasion to trouble her at the present time ; she 
 and I are of one mind on this subject." 
 I Here Mrs. D., who had overheard all that had passed, entered 
 the room, and turning to the Eeverend Tutor, said, " Sir, youmust 
 be altogether deranged to presume to enter the house of any 
 gentleman at such an hour of the night as this, but very pro- 
 bably you have been performing some of your Bacchanalian 
 orgies in the early part of the night '; under the influence of which 
 you have been guilty of this gross and shameless intrusion !" Here 
 the indignant lady was in the act of ringing for her servant, to 
 turn the Reverend Tutor out of the house, when a loud scream 
 was heard, and a female servant, entering the room in the 
 greatest alarm, said, " Oh, dear master, help ! Miss D. has got 
 a fit — " At this the father and mother instantly rushed up stairs, 
 followed by the Eeverend Fellow, who seemed to forget the 
 insult offered to himself personally in his anxiety for the safety 
 of the young lady, whom on entering the drawing-room they 
 found lying upon a sofa in a trance. The distracted mother 
 threw her arms around her child — ^loosed her clothes — -sprinkled 
 water upon her face, and had recourse to all manner of stimulants, 
 with that strength of mind and firmness of purpose so peculiar 
 to women under such trying circumstances ; but no effect seemed 
 to be produced, — the trance stOl continued : here the distracted 
 mother ordered that Dr. CoUis be instantly sent for. At this 
 crisis the lady moved, and animation seemed restored ; but 
 gazing wUdly around, and seeing her father, mother, and lover 
 standing by her side, she uttered a terrific scream, and instantly 
 relapsed into her former state of insensibility. At this the 
 father and mother now became seriously alarmed for the safety of 
 their child. The cause of her illness was manifest ; that medicine 
 could afford no relief was no less certain; they felt that the 
 
40 THE TUTOR 
 
 best doctor under the circumstances was her lover, and that her 
 chances of recovery, under Providence, now rested in his hands. 
 This feeling produced an instant reaction in favor of the 
 Keverend gentleman, and both father and mother informed him, 
 that, in the event of the lady's recovery, they should throw no 
 further impediments in the way of his union with their daughter. 
 The Keverend lover expressed his gratitude by looks rather than 
 words, and seating himself by the side of the young lady, took 
 her hand in his, anxiously watching every symptom of returning 
 consciousness, to be the personal harbinger of tlje joyous 
 news. The hopes of the ardent lover were realized; the vital 
 spark again revived ; the lady recovered her consciousness, found 
 her lover still by her side, and received from his burning lips 
 the happy announcement that she was to become the bride of 
 the man whom she so dearly loved. This news infused new life 
 into her feeble frame : she instantly arose from her couch, and 
 prostrating herself at the feet of her father and mother, burst 
 into a flood of tears, which expressed more painfully than the 
 most eloquent language is capable of doing, her feelings of grate- 
 ful acknowledgment to the authors of her being. The parents in 
 tjieir turn blessed their child, happy to feel that by consenting 
 to her union with the man of her choice, they had been instru- 
 ' mental in preserving the life of an only daughter. Her day- 
 dreams of happiness now being about to be realized, she feU 
 off into a gentle sleep, caused by mental excitement, as well as 
 the physical exhaustion" of the past night. Here let us attempt 
 some description, however feeble, of the personal charms of this 
 sleeping beauty. She was then in her twenty-second year, 
 somewhat above the middle size, and so beautifully proportioned 
 that she may be taken as an exact model of the most perfect 
 symmetry. Her face was of an oval shape, and her features, though 
 
AND 3TUDENT. 41 
 
 not unexceptionable, if examined separately, were nevertheless, 
 taken as a tout ensemble, singularly attractive and interesting. 
 Her forehead was high ; her eyes were dark blue, fuU of expres- 
 sion, and fringed with long eyelashes ; her nose inclined to an 
 aquiline shape ; her mouth was small, exhibiting, when she 
 smiled, a row of well-set teeth, white as ivory, whilst her arched 
 eyebrows seemed as if pencilled by the hands of an artist ; 
 added to which, she had a profusion of hair black as a 
 raven's plumage, which flowed in dishevelled ringlets over 
 a finely formed neck and shoulders, fair as alabaster ; in a word, 
 taken as she now lay, she may serve as a perfect model of 
 a sleeping Venus. The enraptured but unworthy lover gazed 
 for a few moments in silent admiration on the most perfect 
 of nature's works, as she now lay before him, and of whom 
 he was presently to become the lord and master. But our 
 Tutor was a man of business, not of romance ; he there- 
 fore resolved to take time by the forelock, and to accelerate his 
 plans with all possible despatch. It was now three o'clock in the 
 morning ; " the horn of the hunter was heard on the hill ;" the 
 damp shades and mists of night were gradually disappearing, 
 being chased away by the 'fervid rays of the rising sun, which 
 crimsoned the eastern horizon, exhibiting to view the beautiful 
 and picturesque scenery of the Dublin Bay, bounded on one 
 side by the Hill of Houth, Clontarf, &c. ; on the other by the 
 Dublin and Wicklow mountains, and opening to the lovers of 
 scenery an extensive landscape, studded with splendid mansions, 
 and so beautifully diversified for miles around, as to present to 
 the delighted visitor the appearance of one vast and magnificent 
 panorama. .This was an auspicious mom for the gay and luxurious 
 Fellow of Trinity College, who resolved not to suffer procrasti- 
 nation to mar his prospects, — the Act regarding the celibacy of 
 
42 THB TDTOE 
 
 the Pellows was to be passed by the Board of the University in 
 the afternoon of this day ; — of this the Reverend Tutor received 
 intimation, as before explained ; he, therefore, resolved to anti- 
 cipate the act, and to baflSe the Board by a prior marriage. He 
 had previously procured a special license, and secured the ser- 
 vices of a clergyman to perform the ceremony — the same that 
 accompanied him from college in the early part of the nighl, 
 and who had been waiting in the back parlour during the con- 
 tinuance of the scene, of which we have attempted to give a 
 feeble sketch. , The rumour of the midnight marriage soon got 
 abroad, and attracted a large concourse of fashionables, even at 
 that early hour, to witness the ceremony, and tender their con- 
 gratulations. A splendid public breakfast had been prepared 
 for the occasion; and the novel character of the marriage afforded 
 considerable interest, particularly in the fair circles, and to the 
 lovers of scandal. Immediately after breakfast the bride ap- 
 peared, accompanied by her maids. Her face 'seemed deeply 
 crimsoned, as if conscious to herseH of some want of delicacy in 
 consenting to a hasty clandestine marriage. The dress of the 
 bride we cannot attempt to describe; suffice it to say, that it was 
 beautifully suitable to the occasion, though not costly ; she 
 needed not the aid of extrinsic ornaments to exhibit a figure and 
 face to advantage, that nature had cast in her best mould. The 
 bridegroom now entered, and taking his blushing bride by the 
 hand led her to the altar, where his reverend friend quickly per- 
 formed the solemn ceremony, that bound them to each other for 
 life, for better for worse, for richer for poorer. The ceremony 
 being ended, a carriage and four with outriders, and decked 
 with bridal favors, drove up to the door, into which the bride 
 and bridegroom entered. The carriage then dashed off at a 
 rapid pace in the direction of the county Wicklow, where the 
 
AND STUDENT. 43 
 
 new-married couple resolved to pass the honeymoon. This mar- 
 riage secured to our Tutor a life-interest in his Fellowship ; so 
 he snapped his fingers at the Board of Trinity College, triumphed 
 in his address, and became for a long time after " the observed 
 of aU observers" among the fair daughters of the Irish metro- 
 polis. 
 
44 THE TUTOE 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 Natdeam expelles fiirca tamen usque recurret. — Hoeace. 
 
 OuE Tutor is now a married man. In the last chapter but one 
 we have seen him posting off at break of dawn, accompanied by 
 his beautiful bride, to pass the honeymoon in one of those 
 secluded romantic spots, so numerous in the county Wicklow. 
 Let us now follow him to his retreat, and consider the effects of 
 matrimony upon his mind, habits, and manners. Our readers 
 will recollect, from our former sketch of this Reverend Divine, 
 that his was not a mind " subdued to the soft melting mood," 
 that he "was made of sterner stuff;" nevertheless," we were not 
 without hopes that the fascinations of a beautiful woman might 
 have the effect of recalling his wandering fancies, and that, having 
 " sown his wild oats," he may henceforth turn over a new leaf, 
 and atone for past levities by his exemplary conduct as a hus- 
 band, and his zeal as a preacher 'of the Gospel ; but, alas ! we 
 reckoned without our host. As yet we know not our mail ; it is 
 true that he presented the golden apple to Venus, who, in grati- 
 tude, rewarded him with a beautiful woman ; but the object once 
 attained, rapidly sank in his estimation, like one of those nume- 
 rous attractions in human life, which we eagerly pursue so long, 
 they flee from us ; but which, once possessed, are' no longer 
 prized. 
 
AND STCDENT. 45 
 
 This change on the part of the Reverend Tutor may be easily 
 accounted for by the fact, that he never loved the lady, save for 
 the charms of her person ; — ^to the beauties of her mind he felt 
 wholly indifferent, and having tasted the former, they soon 
 palled upon his senses, and he sighed for the possession of 
 something new, — like the gourmcmd, whose morbid appetite can 
 only be appeased by a variety of dishes ; in a word, the Ee- 
 verend Doctor was one of those general admirers, not uncommon 
 in Kfe, who cannot limit their attentions to one object, however 
 lovely or interesting the object may be ; — he was a hog of the 
 sty of Epicurus,* one of those grovelling voluptuaries, who can 
 " sate themselves in a celestial bed, and feed on garbage." The 
 lady was quick in feeling, and no less so in resenting this personal 
 indignity on the part of a man, for whom she suffered much and 
 made so many sacrifices. If it be true that love begets love, the 
 converse of the proposition is no less true, viz., that aversion pro- 
 duces a corresponding feeling ; this was realized in the case of 
 the newly married couple, who returned to Dublin after a few 
 short weeks — the Eeverend Tutor to resume his coUegiate duties, 
 and mingle in his former gay circle ; — ^the lady to lament her 
 hard lot, in uniting herself to a man, in opposition to the wishes 
 of her fond parents, who seemed to take her up as a plaything, 
 and growing tired of the bauble, to fling it away again with the 
 capriciousness of a child. Such were the fruits of this clandes- 
 tine marriage and resistance to parental authority. The lady's 
 parents felt no less hurt and grieved at his indifference to their 
 beloved daughter ; but to their opinions and feelings he paid 
 no regard. They had been always opposed to his addresses, and 
 carried their opposition to the utmost extent ; — this he could not 
 
 * Epiouii de grege poroum. — Hobace. 
 
46 THE TUTOE 
 
 forget or forgive ; and now, that he had carried his point in ^ite 
 of their efforts to prevent it, he treated them as enemies, whose 
 friendship he did not value, and whose favourable opinions he 
 took no pains to conciliate. His wife and he still continued to 
 live together ; but it was well known that love and friendship 
 were strangers to their dwelling ; he had his private circle with 
 whom he passed his vacant hours, whilst his wedded wife was 
 doomed to a life of single blessedness, which she preferred to the 
 society of a man by whom she was so cruelly deceived. However 
 the Keverend Doctor, though indifferent to his wife, was inde- 
 fatigable in the discharge of his collegiate duties, from which he 
 derived an abundant harvest. He also preached occasionally in 
 the College chapel, where, however, his fair auditors were not so 
 numerous as formerly ;— -a circumstance not to be wondered at, 
 considering the weU-known character of the man; however, 
 justice obliges ns to admit that his sermons, though not of a 
 very Evangelical stamp, were nevertheless marked by delicacy 
 of style, terseness of expression, and elegance of diction ; but 
 " fools who came to laugh did not remain to pray." The 
 students, to whom his character was well known, made a 
 mockery of his preaching ; consequently, no moral good could 
 result from it — a circumstance which proves that the religious 
 effect of a sermon depends less on the talents and eloquence of a 
 preacher than the soundness of his doctrine and the holiness of 
 his life. 
 
 We are now come to an important era in the Student's history. 
 He had now been three years in College, and consequently was 
 in his junior sophister year. Up to the present time he managed to 
 pay his quarterly notes, and to keep clear with his Tutor ; but the 
 increasing embarrassments of his father's affairs, to which we 
 have already referred, rendered it wholly impossible for him to 
 
AND STUDENT. 47 
 
 contiilue these payments, or to go on with his class. Under these 
 circumstances, some kind friends urged him to try for scholar- 
 ship, as the experiment, if successful, would result in inde- 
 pendence, — " a consummation so devoutly to be wished for" in 
 his present critical position. This was a startling proposition 
 to the Student ; he was, as before observed, a member of an 
 ancient Catholic family : two of his sisters-in-law were Nuns ; 
 one a Sister of Charity, — and he himself had entered College 
 a Eoman Catholic. Were he now to turn Protestant by receiving 
 the Holy Communion ia the Church of England, a form 
 required to be observed ere the candidate could be allowed to 
 sit for scholarship, his Eoman Catholic friends would be sure to 
 attribute this professed change, less to a conscientious belief 
 in the truth of the Protestant religion, than to a yearning after 
 the loaves and fishes ; — ^in other words, it would be said of 
 him, that he had changed his leligion for " filthy lucre," and 
 " sold his birthright for a mess of pottage," an imputation not 
 very flattering to self-love or human pride. He felt quite 
 sensible that the voice of conscience, not the opinions of men, 
 was the only true touchstone to which men should refer their 
 actions in matters of such vital importance, involving their 
 own eternal welfare ; but the truth was, his mind was not as 
 ' yet suificiently matured for so important a change. 'Tis true 
 that of late years he felt much inclined to the principles of the 
 Eeformed religion, believing them to be more scriptural, and con- 
 sistent with the Word of God, than those of his own Church ; 
 but he had yet many doubts to satisfy — ^many arguments founded 
 on Scripture to be clearly answered, ere he could make up his 
 mind on the subject ; besides, in comparing the Catholic and Pro- 
 testant religions he found them to agree in all the fundamental 
 principles of Christianity: both, for instance,-believe in justification 
 
48 THE TUTOE 
 
 by faith, and in tte atoning blood of Christ as contained in the 
 Athanasian Creed, which they repeat in their respective Church 
 Services. He therefore came to the conclusion that everything 
 necessary for salvation was to be fonnd in one Church as well as 
 the other : where then was the necessity for change ? Neverthe- 
 less, there were two important points, upon which he wholly 
 broke off from the Church of Eome, viz., the invocation of 
 Saints, and the supremacy of the Pope as a temporal prince ; 
 to these doctrines he found the Scriptures decidedly opposed. 
 The texts that bear upon these points are so many that it would 
 be quite impossible, and no less superfluous to quote them all ; 
 we shall therefore limit ourselves to two references, which are 
 quite decisive upon the point, viz., Matthew, chap. xi. ver. 5., and 
 the first Epistle of Paul to Timothy, chap. ii. ver. 5. The former 
 contains an invitation to all to come direct to Christ himself, 
 not to any intermediate agent. " Come unto me, all ye that labor 
 and are heavy laden, and I vriU give you rest ;" and the latter 
 text emphatically declares, that there is but " one mediator 
 between God and man, the man Christ Jesus :" both these 
 texts must afford conclusive evidence to every unprejudiced 
 mind, as to the fallacy of the Eoman Catholic doctrine in 
 respect to the invocation of Saints. 
 
 Again, as regards the supremacy of the Pope as a temporal 
 prince, 'tis hardly necessary to say, that this has no foundation 
 whatever in Scripim-e. Our Blessed Eedeemer repeats, over 
 and over again, that his kingdom is not of this world ; — 
 the Pope, on the other hand, asserts that his kingdom is of this 
 world — in other words, that we can serve God and Mammon. 
 How are these contradictory statements to be reconciled — or how 
 can his Holiness, professing such principles, arrogate to himself 
 the right of being Christ's Vicar upon earth? The absurdity of 
 
AND STUDENT. 49 
 
 this assumption must appear evident to all whose minds are not 
 clouded with ignorance, or blinded with prejudice ; at all events, 
 be this as it may, it was one of the material points on which 
 the Student broke oif from the Communion of the Church of 
 Rome ; — nevertheless, he is bound in justice to admit that the 
 objection applies no less to the Church of England as hy lam 
 established than to that of Eome. Both seem to agree in 
 principle on this point, the only difference being that the former 
 vests this supremacy in the Crown, the latter in the Pope : th« 
 fiat of the latter, and the sic volo sicjuieo of the former are held 
 to be equally efficacious in deciding questions of faith and points 
 of controversy. In this dilemma, it cannot seem strange that 
 the ill-fated Student should feel puzzled how to act — ^he could 
 please no party. The Protestant snubbed him for hesitating to 
 join his Communion — the Catholic gave him the cut direct for 
 his well-known approval of the principles of the Reformed 
 Church. In this desperate state of his affairs, he felt that, at all 
 events, his proper course was to acquaint his Tutor with the 
 real circumstances of his case, as well as with his conscientious 
 scruples on the subject of religion, and to ask his advice as to 
 the best course to pursue in the difficulty. 'Tis true that his hopes 
 from the Reverend Doctor were built upon a very slender founda- 
 tion ; nevertheless, though but a forlorn hope, he thought he 
 might as well try the experiment. He, therefore, lost no time 
 in waiting on him, and teUing him the whole truth. The 
 Reverend Doctor listened with cold indifference, and when 
 the Student concluded, he briefly replied as follows : — " On the 
 subject of religion, I must decline to offer an opinion, this 
 being a matter between you and your God ; your own con- 
 science, not the opinions of others, is the best monitor to 
 consult on such an occasion ; but as regards the payment of 
 
 E 
 
50 THE TUTOR 
 
 your quarterly notes, you must be already aware of my general 
 rule, to wliich I cannot make you an exception ; therefore, if 
 you be unable to pay, the only thing that remains for me is to 
 remove your name from the College books." To this the Student 
 merely answered, " This is just as you please, sir. I expected no 
 favour, and consequently do not feel disappointed." He then 
 took leave of his Tutor, and left the room. In a few days, the 
 Keverend gentleman gave effect to his threats, by removing the 
 Student's name from the books, and consigning him to his fate. 
 The Student being thus left friendless and penniless in the city of 
 Dublin, had no alternative left him but to live for some time 
 on credit, which is seldom prolonged to any extent to a man 
 known to be in difficulties,without any visible means of extricating 
 himself from them. However, some few of the tradespeople with 
 whom he formerly dealt, expressed themselves still willing to ex- 
 tend their credit ; but the Student felt restrained by feelings of 
 pride and principle from availing himself of an indulgence, 
 which would only have the effect of involving him in debt, without 
 any means of meeting the demand. What steps he took to 
 anticipate and shield himseK from the impending storm, the 
 reader may learn by reference to the following chapter. 
 
AND STUDENT. 51 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 Sweet are the uses of adversity, 
 Which, like a toad, ugly and venomous, 
 Wears yet a preoious jewel in its head ; 
 And thus our life, exempt from puhlic haunt, 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything.— 
 
 As Ton Like It. 
 
 The clouds so long gathering were now ready to burst in 
 thunder and lightning upon the devoted head of the iU-fated 
 Student. He now," for the first time, felt himself solitary, iriend- 
 less, and truly miserable ; but this was but a transitory feeling. 
 A ray of hope darted through the surrounding gloom, to cheer 
 him on his way, and to whisper to him that these troubles were 
 only for a season, — sent by the Almighty Disposer of human 
 events, not as a curse, but a blessing, and therefore should be a 
 source of joy and gladness, rather than of murmuring and dis- 
 content ; they moreover taught him, that, though man was false, 
 God was true, and would never abandon those who place their 
 whole trust and coniidence in Him, — ^nay more, that when 
 troubles accumulate to such a degree, that to the short-seeing 
 eye of man there seems no possibility of escape, the mercy of 
 Omnipotence delights to interpose on such occasions, to manifest 
 the excess of His love, and to convince His unbelieving creature 
 
 e2 
 
62 THE TUTOR 
 
 that "with God all things are possible." In the present critical 
 position of the Student, he had not the means of existing in 
 Dublin, not even for a single day ; but under the circumstances 
 a thought flashed across his mind, to wait upon the Eev. 
 Henry H — , one of the Junior Tellows, and to consult him as 
 to what was best to be done in the present dilemma. He had 
 no claim whatever on the Eeverend gentleman, save that ,of 
 being a Student of College ; but knowing him to be a gentle- 
 man not less distinguished for his high literaiy and scientific 
 attainments, than for natural kindness of his heart, he felt 
 that perhaps the generous sympathies of such a man might be 
 extended to himself under the peculiar circumstances of his 
 case ; — and the result proved that in this case he formed a correct 
 estimate of human character, as on learning the desperate state 
 of the Student's affairs the Eeverend gentleman instantly 
 advanced him a sum of money, advising him at the same time 
 to accept a situation as resident Tutor in some family in the 
 country, until the storm should blow over. At first, the Student 
 refused to listen to anything of the sort, having always had the 
 utmost horror, even of the name of a Tutor ; but his increasing 
 embarrassments leaving him no alternative, he at length 
 embraced the kind offer of his Eeverend friend, on whose re- 
 commendation he obtained a situation as private Tutor in the 
 family of Mr. B. P — , a Magistrate and ex-High Sheriff of the 
 county of Limerick, at whose residence he arrived one fine 
 afternoon in the beginning of June, 1833. 
 
 The gentleman to whose notice he was now presented, received 
 him with great cordiality and kindness, and introduced him to 
 his domestic circle, telling him, at the same time, that he was 
 quite aware of the circumstances of his case ; and that, during 
 his residence at Mount P. he was to consider himself a visitor 
 
AND STUDENT. 53 
 
 and a friend, rather tlian a private tutor. Upon the whole, his 
 reception of the Student was extremely kind and flattering ; but 
 ere we sketch the character of this extraordinaiy man, it might be 
 expected of us to give a brief account of Mount P., his residence, 
 partiouliirly as it only requires a brief and simple description. 
 Mount P. House was rather a cottage than a mansion, being but 
 one story high, built upon the slope of a hUl, embosomed in trees' 
 about seven miles from the town of Newcastle, and one mile 
 from Springfield Castle, the residence of the Dowager Countess 
 of M — . The house presented a double front, one to the east, the 
 other to the north, or public road ; the front entrance was by 
 an iron gate ; but there being no porter's lodge, visitors were 
 obliged to let themselves in, and ride or walk, as the case may 
 be, to the front of the house, the approach to which was 
 by a gravelled walk, neatly bordered with box, and winding 
 through a velvet lawn, diversified with flower-knots of various 
 kinds, viz., beds of pinks, tulips, and chinasters, tastefully \/ /f'f. 
 arranged; these being mingled with the cUmatns and sweet- / 
 briar, diffused a fragrance quite reviving to inhale at that 
 season of the year. The side of the house fronting the east was 
 about thirty yards in length, in the centre of which was the hall 
 door, with half a dozen windows at either side, which seemed 
 almost concealed from view by woodbines, jasmines, and 
 monthly roses, so artificially trained and interlaced round the 
 windows, and peering out in clusters beneath the thatch, as to 
 convince the visitor that the owner of this house, though not a 
 man of wealth, must be a man of taste and a gentleman. 
 The side of the house fronting the public road was of an oval 
 shape, having two large bay windows, which commanded an 
 extensive view of a flat but well-cultivated tract of country in 
 a northern direction, to an extent of at least twenty miles : 
 
54 THE TDTOK 
 
 to this we have only to add, that to the back or south of the 
 Louse was a mountainous range covered with thick heather, 
 which was separated from the house by a dense plantation. 
 
 Thus much for the exterior ; but the interior seemed of singu- 
 lar construction, consisting of a large parlour or dining-room, 
 about thirty feet square, a drawing-room, and about six or 
 eight bedrooms ; between the parlour and drawing-room was a 
 long passage or corridor ; the approach to the bed-rooms was 
 through this passage, but it was so well ventilated, and com- 
 manded so extensive a view of the surrounding country, that the 
 family were frequently in the habit of using it as a dining-room, 
 when the heat of the summer's sun was most intense and oppres- 
 sive ; but the drawing-room at the lower extremity of this pas- 
 sage was a splendid room, magnificently furnished, having four 
 windows, two looking to the east, and two bay windows fronting 
 the north, or entrance gate, as already described. This outline 
 of Mount P. we give from memory, after a lapse of twenty-two 
 years; — judging from its external appearance, it maybe considered 
 the " safe retreat of health and peace ;" but whether it really 
 deserved this name the reader can best judge, when he learns the 
 sequel of our tale. The ladies of the establishment were only 
 two, viz., Mrs. P — , and her daughter-in-law, Mrs. E. P — . The 
 former was daughter of the late, and aunt to the present Knight 
 of Grlyn — proud and haughty only in appearance, but in reality 
 kind-hearted and amiable ; her daughter-in-law, though some- 
 what capricious in manners, was a lady of great talent and ele- 
 gance. The Eev. E. P — , the eldest son of the host, and the hus- 
 band of the latter lady, was a Clergyman of the Established 
 Church, a good-natured, rollicking parson, who read a printed 
 sermon every Sunday to about half a dozen individuals, at the 
 little hamlet of Kilmeedy, of which he was curate, — a distance of 
 
AND STUDEST. 65 
 
 about seven miles from Mount P. The rest of the week he 
 devoted fo farming, coursing, and the sports of the field. He was 
 a fine, handsome feEow, who might shine in his own peculiar 
 sphere. At clearing a sunk fence or jumping a five-foot wall 
 he had few rivals ; but his knowledge of literature was so super- 
 ficial, that the wonder was how such a man could get ordained, 
 a Clergyman particularly. As to the Bible he was a total stranger: 
 in a word, he was a gay man, of luxurious and carnal habits, 
 who made religion a profession, only as a means of advancing his 
 own worldly interest, not of promoting the honour and glory 
 of God. 
 
 The junior members of the family consisted of a young man 
 of about twenty-one, quite an original character, of whom we 
 shall have occasion to say more in a subsequent part of our 
 work ; also three boys, of the respective ages of ten, twelve, and 
 fourteen, about to be committed as pupils to the care of the 
 Student ; but the head of the family was of aU men the most 
 extraordinary. We, therefore, deem it our duty to give a more 
 minute account of this singular individual. The Student had 
 read of a few such characters, but was quite sceptical as to 
 their existence, until he found the account realized at Mount P. 
 
 Mr. P — ■ was a prototype of an Irish gentleman in the feudal 
 times ; — at the period to which we refer he was turned seventy, 
 but still retained the peculiar costume of his youthful days, 
 consisting of a blue dress coat, white cravat, buif vest, light casi- 
 mere knee breeches, and top boots ; in stature he was above six 
 feet, well proportioned, upright as a dart, and so slight that he 
 was nicknamed "the thread-paper." He always wore powder, with 
 a long cue extending to the middle of his back ; his head was 
 quite bald, but his high forehead and sparkling blue eyes bore 
 evidence that in his younger days he must have been a very 
 
56 THJi TUTOE 
 
 handsome man ; added to which he possessed all that ease of 
 manner and readiness of expression only to be acquired in the 
 school of the world. He had a most retentive memory, and an 
 extraordinary fund of anecdote, on which he could draw ad 
 infinitum, without any exhaustion or diminution of the original 
 stock ; neither did he avail himself of the prerogative of old age 
 to claim a monopoly of that conversation — that he considered to 
 be common property to which, in his opinion, every man in 
 company had an equal right, and was equally bound to pay his 
 contribution ; therefore, at his table, every guest was not only 
 allowed " to have his say," but was expected to take part in the 
 conversation, — in a word, society was the element in which he 
 seemed to exist — hospitality the brightest trait in his character ; 
 neither was he indifferent to the welfare of the poor, whom 
 he frequently served, but whether from principle or policy, we 
 shall leave our readers to judge when we finish our sketch of this 
 extraordinary character. One general rule he laid down for 
 himself, viz., never to refuse a letter of recommendation to a 
 poor man — on this principle, that such a letter may seiTe a 
 fellow man, and would only cost him one half-penny, — the price 
 of a sheet of letter paper. 
 
 Having thus given the fair side of his character, we must now 
 reverse the picture, on the counterpart of which the reader cannot 
 fail to discern the black lines deeply and indelibly engraved. In 
 the first place, he was a man of the most arbitrary conduct and 
 insufferable pride. No poor man dared to approach him even 
 out of doors, unless uncovered, though in the depth of winter ; 
 an unfortunate wight had the temerity to take such a liberty on one 
 occasion, but not with impunity, as the indignant magistrate 
 seized on his hat and flung it away with such force that it dropped 
 into a pump in a back yard, so that a considerable time must 
 
AND STUDENT. 57 
 
 have elapsed ere the astounded individual could recover Ms hat. 
 On another occasion, a gentleman paid a morning visit at the 
 Mount, accompanied by a young farmer. The former being a 
 friend to the magistrate, Mrs. P — invited him to breakfast, and he 
 thought he might take the liberty of introducing his ftiend. Both 
 gentlemen seated themselves at the breakfast table, one at either 
 side of the hostess; whereupon Mi. P — entered the room, and see- 
 ing the young farmer sitting near his lady, indignantly ordered 
 him out of his house, demanding how he could have the audacity 
 to sit down to breakfast side by side with the daughter of the 
 Knight of Glyn ! On receiving this order, the young man, as 
 may be imagined, lost no time in making his exit, and mounting 
 his horse, which a servant was holding in front of the house, 
 was out of sight in an instant. But the magistrate's pride was 
 only equalled by his meanness. His jobbing propensities were 
 disgraceful to him as a gentleman, and fatal to his character as 
 a magistrate of the county and a moral member of society. 
 When placed upon the grand jury for the county, he never 
 failed to convert this honour into a source of private traffic, by 
 using his influence to obtain presentments for making roads 
 and bridges for his own private convenience, at the public 
 expense ; an exact facsimile of Dean Swift's magistrate, 
 " who out of his great bounty built a bridge at the expense of 
 the county." It was calculated that by such jobbings, this 
 honourable" magistrate realized, at an average, from three to four 
 hundred per annum, though he himself did not possf ss a single 
 rood of property in the county. How, then, it may be asked, 
 did he contrive to get himself appointed High Sheriff of the 
 county ? This question admits of an easy solution. He had 
 been agent to his brother-in-law, the Knight of Glyn, before the 
 disfranchisement of the forty shULing freeholders, by which agency. 
 
58 THE TTJTOE 
 
 considering the extent of the knight's property, he was enabled 
 to influence a sufficient number of voters to return the county 
 member, who in gratitude nominated him high sheriif for the 
 county, — the power of nominating the high sheriff being then 
 vested in the county member ; — this was the secret of his ap- 
 pointment. As regarded honesty and dishonesty, his notions 
 were unique. His policy consisted in oppressing the poor, honest 
 man, and patronizing the rogue, on the Catilinarian principle, 
 that from the former he had nothing to fear, but the latter was 
 formidable, and might retaliate. It is a weU-known fact, that a 
 man accused of an atrocious murder lay concealed for a con- 
 siderable time in this worthy magistrate's neighbourhood, who, 
 though cognizant of the fact, made no effort to arrest the felon, 
 but connived at his concealment, thereby allowing him an op- 
 portunity of effecting his escape. But his utter disregard of all 
 moral and religious duties was quite notorious. His opinions 
 he took no pains to conceal, as he was in the constant habit of 
 boasting of his gallantries and immoral conduct, even in the 
 presence of his own sons, fortunately he had no daughter. 
 One anecdote connected with his conduct when High Sheriff 
 seems particularly deserving of notice. Whilst entertaining, ac- 
 cording to custom, the judges, the first day of the assizes, a man 
 confined on a charge of felony broke jail, and took shelter in the 
 High Sheriff's kitchen, whilst the judges were actually at dinner. 
 The charge against the prisoner was that of having offered 
 violence to_ a female servant of Lord Gort ; the High Sheriff 
 being informed that the prisoner was in his kitchen instantly 
 ordered him back to prison, observing that " he had rushed into 
 the lion's mouth." The man was tried on the charge a few 
 days after, and being found guilty, sentence of death was passed 
 pn him by the late Baron Smith. On the last day of the assizes 
 
AND STUDENT. 59 
 
 the High. Sheriff again entertained the judges, who after dinner 
 highly complimented him for the efficient and dignified manner 
 that he had discharged his duty during his year of office ; at the 
 same time expressing their wish to mark their appreciation of 
 his services by something more than mere words. To this the 
 High Sheriff modestly replied, " that for himself, personally, he 
 had no favour to ask — that a self-approving conscience, and the 
 approbation of their lordships, would serve as an ample reward 
 for his humble services. However, that he availed himself of 
 that opportunity to call the attention of their lordships to the 
 case of the man under sentence of death, who sought shelter in 
 his house the first day of the assizes. He could not help observ- 
 ing, that, in his humble opinion, the evidence against the prisoner 
 was not sufficiently conclusive to warrant a conviction j anJ, 
 my lord" — continued the High Sheriff, particularly addressing 
 himself to the humane and learned Baron Smith. — "I think that 
 even your lordship, when pronouncing sentence of deathon the un- 
 fortimate man, seemed to have some doubt as to his moral gudt." 
 To this the learned Baron assented. " Then, my lords," added 
 the High Sheriff', " I humbly think the case ot the convict par- 
 ticularly deserving the merciful interposition of the Crown, 
 Should your lordships be of the same opinion, I shall instantly 
 get my sub-Sheriff to draw up a memorial to this effect, and 
 forward it without delay to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland." 
 
 Baron Smith, who always leant to the side of mercy, and only 
 sought a plausible pretext to save the life of a fellow man, 
 unhesitatingly signed a memorial, which was only the work of a 
 few minutes ; the other judges followed the learned Baron's 
 example ; the document was despatched that very night by a 
 special messenger to the Dublin Castle, and the return of post 
 brought the reprieve of the convict; but no language is 
 
60 THE TUTOR 
 
 sufficiently strong to brand the gross hypocrisy of the High 
 Sheriff on this occasion. The prosecutrix, as before observed, 
 was servant to Lord Grort, who, knowing the convict to be guilty 
 of the imputed crime, was desirous to let the law take its course 
 in his case ; neither had his Lordship the remotest idea that the 
 High Sheriif felt any particular interest in saving the life of the 
 individual, more especially as the latter gentleman declared to his 
 Lordship, the "very morning that he forwarded the merciful 
 recommendation of the judges," that "if the man had a thousand 
 lives he deserved to lose every one of them. Lord Gort having 
 heard of the convict's respite, instantly called on the High 
 Sheriff to express his indignation at its injustice, whereupon 
 the latter reiterated his former asseveration — " that if the man 
 had a thousand lives he deserved to lose every one of them." 
 
 Such deception and falsehood on the part of a high public 
 functionary must cover with lasting infamy the memory 
 of the individual who was the author of it, as the effect of such 
 conduct must have been to make falsehood fashionable, to bring 
 the laws of the country into contempt, and to open a wide door 
 for the moral degradation of the people. This patriotic High 
 Sheriff has been dead for the last twenty years — peace to his 
 ashes ! We trust he has left few like himself behind ; this hope 
 we fervently breathe for the honor of human nature, as well as 
 for the benefit of the country that had the misfortune to produce 
 this incarnate monster. 
 
AND STUDENT. 61 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Round went the glass — the jest — the glee, 
 Whilst tender wishes filled each fancy ; 
 
 And when in turn it came to me, 
 I heaved a sigh and toasted Nancy. — Dibdrt. 
 
 The Student tad now been six months at Mount P. ; his pupils 
 were making rapid progress, and he was becoming an especial 
 favourite with the family ; — this is evident from a letter written 
 about this time by Mr. P — to the Eev. H. H — , in which 
 he observes, in reference to the social qualities of the Student, — 
 " Were my circumstances equal to my disposition, I should will- 
 ingly pay your friend the salary I have agreed on, for the 
 pleasure of his company alone, without requiring him to give 
 my boys a single lesson." This is abundant proof of the high 
 estimation in which he was held at that particular time by the 
 family at Mount P.; but the Student did not feel himself equally 
 happy. His moral principles were not much improved by his 
 residence at the Mount ; — this he felt, and breathed some secret 
 sighs of regret at the dire necessity that urged him to quit Dublin. 
 But it was now useless to indulge in vain complaints, so he made 
 up his mind to be content , under the circumstances, and not to 
 aggravate his troubles by unavailing grief. The class of gentry 
 t'lat frequented Mount P. was not that from whose society a 
 literary man could derive pleasure or improvement, being chiefly 
 
ba THE TUTOR 
 
 co:nposed of fox -hunters, and sporting characters! — all, however, 
 members of the aristocracy, which was a sine qua non to their 
 admission to the society of the Mount, from which the parvenu 
 was wholly excluded — save when the Lord of the Manor 
 felt himself interested in paying him a compliment, — ^in which 
 case he sometimes deviated from his general rule, and honored 
 him with an invitation to dinner, which he considered an act of 
 great condescension on his part. 
 
 This, however, was a circumstance of such rare occurrence, 
 that the Student can recollect but one instance of it during 
 his own sojourn at the Mount. The conversation of sports- 
 men is generally of one common-place character, and turns upon 
 the same stale theme, viz., the length of the run — ^the merits of 
 the quadruped — -the hair-breadth scapes by flood and iield — 
 who. was first in at the death, &c., &c. Such conversation is not 
 without interest and excitement to such as can enjoy it, but to 
 the literary man it is a subject " weary, stale, flat, and unprofit- 
 able." However there was this peculiarity about the dinnerpar- 
 ties at the Mount, that every guest was expected to cater in the 
 course of the day for the after-dinner amusement of the company, 
 and to come prepared either with a comic song, a humorous 
 anecdote, or some tale, either fictitious or genuine, to promote 
 mirth, and " set the table in a roar." On such occasions the 
 glass, the jest, the glee went freely round, and aU seemed to 
 enjoy a short-lived happiness, generally succeeded by head-ache, 
 stomach-ache, and aU the usual concomitants of excess, " that 
 flesh is heir to." 
 
 Scenes such as these may not be without excitement ; but 
 we can hardly call that happiness, which is usually followed by 
 the qualms of sickness and the stings of remorse. It is truly 
 said that example is more efficacious than precept in leading 
 
AND STUDENT. 63 
 
 people out of the riglit road ; — this was realized in the case of 
 the Student. His mind, as before observed, had, of late years, 
 taken a serious turn ; the time was when he would turn with 
 disgust from the scenes that were nightly performed at the 
 Mount ; but the frequent repetition of the scenes, in which the 
 host, his son — a clergyman of the Church of England, — and the 
 other guests took a part, gradually removed the religious 
 scruples of the Student, and so reconciled him to these performan- 
 ces, that in a little time hehimself becameone of the chief actors in 
 such scenes. But the society of the Moimt was not always limited 
 to fox-hunters and sportsmen, but often included men of the 
 most polished manners, and the highest order of intellect; to 
 the latter class belonged many of the officers of the rifle brigade, 
 then quartered near Mount P. ; among these we may name 
 Major P — , the Honourable Captain B — , and Captain F — ; 
 the first an author and a poet, who had published a History of 
 Cairo, and Travels in Egypt, with other interesting works. The 
 other named gentlemen were no less distinguished for their 
 literaiy and scientific attainments ; these were frequent visitors 
 and guests at Mount P., and contributed not a little by their 
 wit and talents to the intellectual pleasure and refined amuse- 
 ments of the Mount. An incident, however, occurred at this 
 time which, though apparently of a trivial nature, nevertheless 
 had the effect of depriving the Mount of the agreeable society of 
 the witty and gallant major. We shall briefly relate the story. 
 
 The second son of the host, already alluded to, was a chakac- 
 TEE, who to his other singular traits added that of a ventrilo- 
 quist ; his talents for mimicry were so extraordinary, that he 
 could give a perfect impersonation, not alone of the different 
 peculiarities and shades of the human character, from the " infant 
 muling and puling in his nurse's arms," up to the nonagenarian 
 
64 THE TUTOR 
 
 that " shifts into the lean and slipper pantaloons ;" nay, he was 
 possessed of the extraordinary faculty of imitating all the cries 
 and sounds even of the brute creation, not excepting the feathered 
 tribe. A fond mother felt not a little vain of the talents of her 
 favourite son, and often entertained her company by expatiating 
 on the versatility of his genius, and the precocity of his intellect. 
 This prodigy of parts was then in his twenty-first year, and was 
 over six feet high ; but his iigure was peculiar, being remarkable 
 for the extraordinary circumference of the lower part of his per- 
 son, which, to avoid an indelicate expression, we forbear to call 
 by its right English name, but which is expressed in the Irish 
 language by the appropriate epithet.of " Thone." This furnished 
 the witty major with a subject for a poem in three cantos, which 
 he called the " Thonaid," in imitation of Pope's Dunciad, in which 
 he gave such a poetic and graphic sketch of the genius and ad- 
 ventures of the hero of his poem, as furnished an infinite fund of 
 mirth to aU save the hero himself and his parents, who so keenly 
 felt the ridicule cast upon their pet son, that the major was in- 
 stantly obliged to make the amende honorable by a palinode to 
 ■satisfy the wounded feelings of his parents, as well as to guard 
 against an appeal to arms, which was actually threatened at the 
 time. The gallant major was clearly in the wrong, in making the 
 son of his host and friend a butt of public ridicule and con- 
 tempt ; nobody knew better than he that wit and genius are the 
 peculiar gifts of God, which, if turned to good account, become 
 powerful instruments in the improvement, reformation, and con- 
 sequent happiness of the great human family ; but if abused by 
 being employed in the perversion of truth, the indulgence of sar- 
 pasm, or the vindication of falsehood, these gifts become a curse 
 rather than a blessing; and they to whom such talents are 
 intrusted have a sad account to render to their Lord, when the 
 great day of reckoning arrives. 
 
AND STUDENT. 65 
 
 It has been said of the celebrated Sheridan, that his wit in 
 the combat, however bright, " ne'er carried a heart-stain away 
 on its blade ;" — would it were in our power to pay the same com- 
 pliment to the gaUant major. But should the offence of the 
 latter admit of any extenuation, it consists in this, that the hero 
 of the Thonaid had himself set the example, by a prior attack 
 on himself personally, and that none of his acquaintance had 
 escaped unscathed from the shafts of his malice or the powers of 
 his mimicry; consequently the publication of the Thonaid 
 may be regarded as a just retribution to offended society. How- 
 ever, the Student was of the number of those who exceedingly 
 regretted the Thonaid, first, because he considered it wrong in 
 principle; — secondly, that it deprived the Mount of the society 
 of the talented and accomplished major, which to himself, 
 personally, was the greatest deprivation under the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances of his case. Having now given to the reader a 
 general account of the class of gentry that frequented the 
 Mount, we shall add a word in regard to the lady visitors, pre- 
 eminent among whom was the late Countess Dowager of M — . 
 But ere we sketch this highly gifted lady, we deem it our duty 
 to say a few words as to the character of her late lord, whose 
 singular eccentricities were become proverbial in his day, in 
 the south of Ireland. Sir M. D — (his original title) had been 
 created Baron M — in the reign of George III., and was 
 formerly possessed of such large estates and extensive influence 
 in the counties of Cork and Limerick, as to be enabled to 
 return the members for the two counties, as well as the city 
 members. He was Colonel of the Limerick Militia, but owing 
 to his profligate habits, he lived in difficulties, and died over- 
 whelmed with debt, leaving his widow but a comparatively 
 small dower, and the inheritor of his title nothing more than 
 
 V 
 
66 THE TUTOR 
 
 a pauper lord. This will not be considered strange, when we 
 inform the reader that he lost iE40,000 on one occasion by a 
 single cast of the die. A story is told of this lord, when in his 
 embarrassed state, the authenticity of which admits of no 
 doubt : we give the tale as communicated to us on the credit 
 of one of his Lordship'smost intimate friends. 
 
 .It seems that in Ms Lordship's time, two spinster ladies re- 
 siding in Dublin had taken up the idea that the noble Baron 
 had got a pew in a Dissenting Church in Dublin, called the 
 Bethesda ; and these ladies, considering that they might be able 
 to purchase this pew a bargain from his Lordship, knowing 
 him not to be a church-going man, and in want of money, 
 waited on him to make an offer for the pew ; but his Lordship 
 told them they were quite mistaken in supposing that he had 
 got a pew in the Bethesda, assuring thejn that " he had got 
 no pew Aere." His pronunciation of the letter T was peculiar ; 
 he always pronounced it as the dental D. The ladies, however, 
 persisted in assuring him that he had such a pew, though 
 perhaps his Lordship may not be aware of it. " Very well, den," 
 said his Lordship, " if I have got a pew dere, how much will 
 you give me for it ?" The ladies informed him that they con- 
 sidered £300 a fair compensation. " Give me de money, and 
 you may have it." The ladies accordingly paid down the cash, 
 and went away, well pleased with their bargain. 
 
 On the following Sunday they went to Bethesda, intending to 
 take possession of theif newly purchased pew, but on approach- 
 ing it they were stopped by the sexton, who informed them 
 that Lord M — had got no pew in Bethesda : the ladies 
 felt astonished at this information, and waited on his Lordship 
 to acknowledge their mistake in supposing that his Lordship 
 had a pew a,t the Bethesda. " Did I not tell you so,'' answered 
 
AND STUDENT. 67 
 
 .the lord. To this the ladies assented, at the same time asking 
 •him for their money ; but his Lordship's laconic answer was, 
 " Oh ! de money is gone." " But, my Lord," rejoined the ladies, 
 " we appeal to your Lordship's honor." " Oh, dat's gone too," 
 was the reply, and thus the simple-minded ladies were relieved 
 of their £300.. Such characters as his Lordship were not very 
 uncommon in Ireland in his day ; but we trust that this class 
 is now wholly extinct, and that a better and more moral race 
 have risen on their ruins. Certainly, a worse is not easily found, 
 ^o that any change in the system must be one for the better. 
 Having given this brief sketch of the eccentric Baron, we now 
 feel ourselves in duty bound to devote a short space to his 
 accomplished widow, the late Countess Dowager of M — . Of 
 the personal appearance of this lady, we have little to say. She 
 was short in stature, being considerably under the middle size, 
 with plump round face, florid complexion, blue prominent eyes, 
 and brown hair. At the time of which we write she must have 
 been between sixty and seventy ; but she wore her age well, and 
 might pass for fifty, as her forehead was not furrowed by a single 
 wrinkle ; neither could the closest observer detect a straggling 
 grey hair in her head. She was, however, nothing to look at ; 
 but in grace and natural dignity she had few eqpals, — no 
 superior. This was evident from the universal homage paid her, 
 as well by her own as the opposite sex. Whenever she appeared 
 in public or private, she instantly became the centre of attraction, 
 being surrounded by groups of admirers no less emulous to 
 attract her notice, and win her smile, than if she sat enthroned, 
 the queen of beauty, to award the fairest prize to the most 
 worthy competitor. 
 
 Her Ladyship's superiority did not consist in the learned tone 
 of her conversation, or the depth or extent of her literary 
 
 r3 
 
68 THE TUTOR 
 
 ■ attainments. She did not aspire to the character of what is 
 called a Blue ; neither was she a great talker, though well ac- 
 quainted with the ordinary literature of the day ; but she was 
 chiefly distinguished by her sound common sense, suavity of 
 manner, and readiness of reply, by which she could instantly 
 check a rude advance or control the morbidness of impertinent 
 curiosity. She also possessed, in an extraordinary degree, the 
 talent of giving a lively turn to a dull conversation, or of wholly 
 changing the subject when not agreeable to herself or any of her 
 friends, and this without personal offence to any of the company. 
 It has been said that some have made themselves great, some 
 have had greatness forced on them, and some have been bom 
 great. To the latter class her Ladyship belonged. A title may 
 add dignity to others, — ^her Ladyship imparted dignity to the 
 title, and had she been bom in humble life, she could have 
 raised herself to the first rank by her own innate powers, and 
 reigned queen of the learned coterie, in whatever station in life her 
 lot might have been cast. But the accomplished Countess was not 
 all perfection ; this is not the prerogative of the fallen daughters 
 of Eve : on the contrary, she, like others, had her faults and her 
 follies ; one of which was her unaccountable antipathy to her 
 own sex, and her partiality for the society of gentlemen, even in 
 her advanced years. This was evident from the fact, that her 
 parties chiefly consisted of officers and men of the world ; — the 
 proportion of ladies invited on such occasions being in the 
 ratio of one to three. This led to some severe, perhaps not 
 wholly unfounded imputations, as to the purity of her Ladyship's 
 motives, for if it be tme, as observed by Shakespeare, that 
 virtue, though " chaste as ice and pure as snow, cannot avoid 
 calumny," how could a lady well stricken in years, whose 
 delight was with the sons of men, expect to escape that moral 
 
AND STUDENT. 69 
 
 blight that sometimes blasts the fairest fame, the brightest honor, 
 and the most spotless reputation? The officers of the Rifle 
 Brigade were her especial favorites and constant guests. And 
 ■the Student was one of the favored few honored with a carte 
 blanche to her Ladyship's soirees. This may be ilattering to self- 
 love under the circumstances of his case, but did not contribute 
 much to his real interest, and less to his true happiness. Her 
 Ladyship kept late hours, seldom permitting her company to 
 retire before two in the morning. The Student recollects with 
 regret having frequently returned to the Mount at that hour from 
 her Ladyship's parties ; and this in the depth of winter, when 
 the drifting snow lay upon the ground, sometimes to the depth 
 of three feet. A life such as this at length became irksome, 
 nay, absolutely intolerable to the Student, who frequently asked 
 himself the question, " What can be its end and aim ?" — the - 
 internal response to which was, " Vanity and vexation of spirit." 
 This roused him from his lethargy, and he resolved to break the 
 chain by which he was bound, and to quit a scene from which 
 consequences the most fatal were likely to result. 
 
 This was no vain resolution, but one which he was determined 
 ■to carry into immediate eifect. He accordingly lost no time in 
 waiting on her Ladyship, to thank her for all her kindness and 
 condescension to so humble a person as himself, and to acquaint 
 her with the resolution he had formed, and the motives that led 
 to it. Her Ladyship, as before observed, was a woman of great 
 kindness and common sense, who could appreciate in her friends 
 that candour and sincerity which were not leading traits in her 
 own character : she felt pleased with the Student's candour and 
 confidence, and seeing that he had made up his mind, she had too 
 much good sense to attempt to dissuade him from his resolution. 
 
70 THE TUTOR 
 
 Her answer on the occasion was so very flattering, that we can- 
 not record it in an autobiography without subjecting the Student 
 to the imputation of personal vanity. Suffice to say, that to 
 the Student her Ladyship was always kind, courteous, and consis- 
 tent in her manner ; and that she sustained this character to the 
 close of her acquaintance with him. One trivial circumstance 
 we shaU. only name as an instance of her Ladyship's natural 
 politeness. 
 
 In playing rubbers of whist, and pools of backgammon, 
 games to which she was particularly partial, she sometimes 
 lost money to her guests, and they to her; but these being 
 debts of honor, were always paid with the utmost punctuality. 
 The Student, therefore, feeling himself somewhat in arrears 
 to her Ladyship, said, " Lady M^ — , I feel anxious, ere I wish 
 your Ladyship farewell, to prove myself a gentleman by pay- 
 ing my debts of honor," — at the same time laying the money 
 on the table ; but this her Ladyship declined to accept, adding, 
 with a good-humoured smile, " I make you a present of the 
 money, provided you promise to preserve it as a memento of the 
 many happy evenings that you have passed in the agreeable 
 society of the Countess Dowager of M — ." This closed the in- 
 terview, which lasted nearly an hour. The Student felt himself 
 moved, but suppressing his feelings, and summoning up the man 
 within him, he bowed to her Ladyship, and quickly returned to 
 the Mount. 
 
AND STUDENT. 71, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I DAiiE do all that may become a man, — 
 Who dares do more is none. — Shakespeare. 
 
 The day that our Student took his final leave of the Countess 
 of M — w£is, to him, one of gloom and despondence. He now 
 felt that a longer residence at the Mount was not possible, 
 under the circumstances of his case ; he therefore made up his 
 mind to quit, as soon as he could do so without inconvenience 
 to his pupils, and to return again to Dublin ; but an unforeseen 
 accident hastened his departure much sooner than he could anti- 
 cipate : this we shall briefly relate : — On the day before named 
 a select dinner party was given at the Mount ; this party con- 
 sisted of Lord M — , and about half a dozen other gentlemen, 
 including a Mr. K — , otherwise called the London Leg. From 
 the singularity of his character, we feel bound to give our 
 readers a short sketch of him : in stature he was below the 
 middle size, exceedingly slight — his age was about thirty- 
 five. He had black hair, dark penetrating eyes, and his fea- 
 tures were as regular as if chiselled by the hands of an artist ; 
 the idea conveyed by the expression of his countenance and 
 his compressed lips, was that of a man whose mind was 
 brooding over some internal corroding cares, which he was 
 most studious to conceal. His gait was peculiar ; he usually 
 
73. THE TUTOR 
 
 walked, or ralher crept about so softly, and with so mucli cau- 
 tion, that few could hear him entering or leaving a room, — in 
 a word, he seemed an exact counterpart of Oliver le Diable in 
 " Quentin Derwood," who is represented as moving about with 
 " the stealthy pace of a cat." His manners were those of a 
 gentleman, easy and communicative, and he seemed well 
 versed in the mysteries of London, where we understood him 
 to have pursued his avocation as a roue for many years with 
 considerable eclat and success. Such was the new importation 
 lately added to the domestic circle at the Mount. Among the 
 ladies invited were the Countess of M — , always first on such 
 occasions, with a few others. Dinner being ended, the Stu- 
 dent could not help remarking the unusual abstemiousness and 
 reserve of the gentlemen, which appeared to him the more 
 extraordinary, from his previous knowledge of the character 
 and habits of these individuals ; neither did their taciturnity 
 escape the notice of the shrewd Countess of M — , who, in an 
 under-voice, remarked to the lady sitting next to her, that 
 " there must be something in the wind, that such appearances 
 of calm always foreboded stormy weather." 
 
 Shortly after this her Ladyship arose, and retired to the 
 drawing-room, followed by the other ladies, and accompanied 
 by the Student, who, nevertheless, returned to the dining-room 
 immediately after, and resumed his place at the table, where 
 he found the company engaged in close and confidential con- 
 versation. At first he felt puzzled, not knowing how to ac- 
 count for such mysterious conduct ; but at length the secret 
 was out, — though, perhaps, it was not a secret to the Countess 
 of M — , who was no stranger to such scenes. However, he 
 solution of the puzzle was, that the gentlemen had previously 
 resolved upon a game of hazard after dinner, by which their 
 
AND STUDENT. 73 
 
 minds were so wholly engrossed and absorbed in the early 
 part of the evening, as to feel almost unconscious of the pre- 
 sence of the ladies. All doubts being removed as to the pro- 
 posed object, " the London Leg " arose, and addressed the 
 company in an under-voice as follows : — " Gentlemen, — now 
 that the ladies have left us free men, a fresh difficulty presents 
 itself, viz., — where we can conveniently enjoy a quiet game; — 
 this parlour is, I think, wholly unsuited ; here everything can 
 he distinctly seen and heard ; the rattling of the dice is sure to 
 bring the servants about the door ; but there is a snug, private 
 corner at the upper end of the drawing-room, which is quite the 
 thing ; there we may enjoy the fun without any interruption, 
 provided the consent of the ladies be obtained. What say you, 
 gentlemen ? — is there any young gallant present possessed of 
 sufficient influence to forward our views ?" To this our host 
 replied, " Mr. K— , I know of no one more competent than 
 yourself to carry a point with the ladies ; what think you of 
 trying your own hand on the present occasion ?" — " With all 
 my heart," was the laconic answer. These words were no 
 sooner spoken than the wily diplomatist entered the drawing- 
 room, and approaching the Countess of M — , bowed grace- 
 fully to her Ladyship, and solicited the favour already named as 
 the deputed organ of the gentlemen in the parlour. " Oh !" 
 exclaimed the countess, " is that all ? I thought by your 
 long preamble, and all this ceremony, that you were going to 
 make some particular request — sf course, you can tell your 
 friends in the parlour that the prayer of their petition is com- 
 plied with, and that I wish them a very pleasant evening." 
 Mr. K — expressed his gratitude by a graceful inclination of his 
 diminutive person, and returning to the parlour, said, " Hush ! 
 ' — silence !— All right — hold as you are for a moment, until I 
 complete my arrangements." 
 
14 THE TUTOK 
 
 Having thus spoken he took up a light card-table between 
 both hands, and moving softly on tiptoe, he entered the 
 drawing-room, and set it down in the recess already named ; 
 he then returned to the parlour, and counting heads, took a 
 corresponding number of chairs, two at a time, one in each, 
 handj which he placed round the table : all seemed like magic 
 — done in an instant; the ladies could neither see nor hear 
 what occurred, their faces being turned in an opposite direction. 
 " Now, gentlemen," whispered the functionary, " come on ; but 
 be sure you move softly." So saying, he led the way, followed 
 by the party consecutively in single file, until they reached the, 
 fatal spot, and took their seats round the card-table. And now 
 commenced a terrific scene. All was silent as the grave, save 
 when silence was occasionally broken by the rattling of dice and 
 the announcement of the cast. In less than one hour £600 
 changed hands — those lost most who could least afford it. Lord 
 M — was fleeced to the extent of £80 ; he then gambled a clock 
 of the value of £50, which he also lost. Another venerable 
 gentleman was relieved of £183, which proved the ruin of his 
 family. His usual good luck did not attend even " the London 
 Leg," who acknowledged that he was regularly done, and that 
 by " a country bumpkin," as if in aggravation of his misfortune. 
 The extent of his loss we have not been able to ascertain, but 
 we were told that he suffered severely ; however, he was of all 
 the lot the individual for whom we felt least sympathy. 
 
 The closing scene was one -worthy of the pencil of Hogarth. 
 The cojitrast between winners and losers was never more 
 visible : the latter gazed on their more fortunate rivals with 
 the most vindictive and fiendish expression of countenance; 
 they then left the room, not in the order in which they entered, 
 nor with the same feeling. A few of the lucky ones joined 
 
AND STUDENT. 7S 
 
 the ladies in the drawing-room ; the others left the house 
 in despair, — perhaps to commit suicide ; the lights were 
 extinguished in the recess, and the curtain dropped on this, 
 the most hellish scene we ever witnessed. 
 
 It heing now one o'clock — the dead of the night, and all the 
 company having departed for their respective homes, the Stu- 
 dent retired to his hedroom, to meditate on the awful events 
 of the past day. He threw himself on his bed, where he passed 
 a sleepless night of misery. The conviction now rushed into 
 his mind that he could not remain a moment longer at Mount 
 P — without utter ruin of body and soul. He felt as if the words 
 of the Prophet had been directly and specially addressed to him- 
 self, " Arise you, and depart, for this is not your rest ; because 
 it is polluted ; it will destroy you, even with a sore destruc- 
 tion."* These words conveyed an indescribable sensation of 
 horror to his inmost soul : he resolved instantly to obey the call, 
 and to seek some pretext for quitting the scene as soon as pos- 
 sible; perhaps the loss of the society of the Countess of M — may 
 have also had some effectinimparting strength to his resolution. 
 He rose early the following morning, hesitating and perplexed 
 as to howhe should break the matter to the family of Mount P — , 
 and acquaint them with his resolve ; but whilst wavering in this 
 state of doubt and uncertainty, a sad event opened to him 
 a way of escape. He received a letter by the early post to 
 apprise him that his mother was laid up, so dangerously ill of 
 dysentery that no hopes were entertained of her recovery, and 
 that she expressed a wish to see the Student without a moment's 
 delay. This was a fatal blow : he had not seen his mother 
 for two years, though her favorite son, and the thought of now 
 
 * Micah, chap, ii., v. 10. 
 
76 THE TUTOa 
 
 returning home only to see her die, was too much for him to 
 reflect on, much less to hear up under. All the follies and 
 levities of the past year now arose like phantoms to scare his 
 bewildered imagination ; these added a sting to his sufferiogs 
 that no words can express. 
 
 He now felt as if God ordered this heavy affliction as a 
 punishment for the sins of his life. He instantly waited on 
 Mrs. P — , handed her the letter, and acquainted her with his 
 resolution to set off without a moment's delay ; but the diffi- 
 culty was as to the mode of conveyance, there heing then 
 no railways, or no public vehicles between the Mount and 
 the family residence of the Student ; however the kind Mrs. 
 P — soon obviated the difficulty by getting her son to lend 
 him one of his best horses, and the Student being an expert 
 horseman, sprang into the saddle — was off in an instant, 
 and reached home in little more than two hours, — a distance of 
 thirty-two miles. On entering his mother's room he found 
 her lying upon her bed, in a doze evidently the effects of opium. 
 Her cheek was highly flushed, and she had all the accompanying 
 symptoms of high fever. Taking and pressing her hand gently 
 between his, she opened her eyes, and instantly recognising 
 the Student, she made an effort to sit up in her bed, and then 
 extending hf r burning hand, exclaimed, " Welcome my boy, my 
 dearest child. I thank you for coming to receive the last 
 blessing of your dear mother before she dies. I am now 
 content. Thank God, I die happy, having seen all my children-^ 
 but you in particular, my dearest son, around my death-bed." 
 
 Her last words were, " Good by, God bless you all." She 
 then sank back upon her pillow, exhausted by the effort. The 
 last tear — that inevitable forerunner of speedy dissolution. 
 
AND STUDENT. 77 
 
 hung upon her eyelash : with a bursting heart too full for 
 utterance, our Student wiped it away. For a few minutes 
 she breathed heavily, then ceased — the expiring taper flickered 
 for a moment in the socket, and then — the blessed spirit 
 winged its flight to the mansions of " glory everlasting." 
 
78 THE TUTOU 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 When Heaven would kindly set us free, 
 And earth's enchantment end, 
 
 It takes the most effectual means, 
 And robs us of a friend. — Yodno. 
 
 From the melancholy conclusion of the preceding chapter 
 we are led to pause for a moment, and make a few passing 
 remarks arising from the nature of the subject, on the mys- 
 terious agency of Divine Providence, and the variety of instru- 
 ments and means that the Almighty uses to reclaim sinful 
 man, and to bring back His stray sheep to the fold of the 
 Good Shepherd ; but in every case the love of the Almighty 
 is manifest, and His finger, though invisible, may be clearly 
 traced in ordering all things for the future happiness of the 
 fallen posterity of Adam, in whose welfare He is so deeply 
 interested, — for whose eternal salvation He has paid so stu- 
 pendous, so incomprehensible a ransom. The wisdom of 
 Omnipotence draws us, by a variety of means — sometimes 
 by. bodily afflictions, at other times by the loss of friends, or 
 by plunging us into the abyss of utter destitution : of the 
 former we have a striking illustration in the Book of Job ; 
 the Prodigal Son affords an impressive example of the latter. 
 It therefore becomes our duty, not arrogantly to question the 
 means, but humbly to acknowledge the wisdom of the end. 
 
AND STUDENT. ' 79 
 
 and to rest satisfied that all things worlii together for the 
 temporal and eternal welfare of the great human family. 
 
 Such are the considerations that reconciled the Student to 
 his late domestic hereavement, which, however afflicting in 
 the heginping, he was now determined to bear with the firm- 
 ness of a man and the fortitude of a Christian. He, there- 
 fore, received the bitter cup from the hands of his Redeemer, 
 not as a punishment, but as a test of his faith, resolving with- 
 in himself to grow wise by experience, and to stop his ears 
 against the seductive influences of those syren songs that 
 hitherto had drawn him from the path of duty, and from the 
 narrow road that leads to eternal life. The late death-bed 
 scene of his beloved mother sank deep into his soul, and he 
 now, for the first time, felt a solemn sense of the duty which 
 he owed to God and his country. Full of these sentiments, and 
 having assisted in paying the last sad tribute to the remains of 
 a beloved parent, his first care was to consult his father as to 
 the present circumstances and future prospects of his family. 
 His father, as before observed, was a man remarkable for 
 great common sense and knowledge of the world, and his 
 considered opiniom were always highly valued; but his good 
 qualities, though not few, were marred by excesses, into which 
 his vicious propensities frequently led him. His disposition to 
 serve his children was sincere ; but his extravagant habits 
 deprived him of the means of giving efiect to his kind inten- 
 tions. To his deceased wife, who was a pattern of amiability 
 and every virtue, he proved himself an unfaithful husband, 
 and his licentious habits, which were not checked but rather 
 increased by his recent bereavement, plunged him head- 
 long into such embarrassments, that he was forced to raise 
 
8ffi ' THE TUTOK 
 
 a considerable sum of money on property already too heavily 
 mortgaged, in order to supply his urgent exigencies. 
 ' His difficulties at this critical time were considerably ag- 
 gravated by the fact of his having been arrested for the sum of 
 £75, being originally the debt of his eldest son ; — for the pay- 
 ment of which he had rendered himself personally answerable, 
 by joining his son in a bond to the creditor for this sum ; but 
 the latter individual accepted the personal security of the Stu- 
 dent for the amount of the bond, payable in twelve months, in 
 consideration of which his father got discharged ere he was 
 committed to prison, — a subject which we beg the reader to 
 bear in mind, as we shall have occasion again to refer to it 
 in the course of our work. But in the present desperate 
 state of his father's affairs, the Student saw no alternative 
 left him, but to get his name replaced on the College books, 
 and to read for his degree in the Dublin University. He, 
 therefore, felt it necessary to renew his correspondence with 
 his Reverend Tutor, of whom we have already given a par- 
 ticular account. As before stated, the Student had reached 
 his junior sophister year, and it then being about the middle 
 of May, he made up his mind to set off for Dublin, 51s soon 
 as possible, to resume his collegiate studies, and save the June 
 examination. He had lately become entitled io some personal 
 property, by which he was enabled to raise a sum sufficient 
 to pay his College expenses. He, therefore, addressed a 
 letter to his Tutor, to acquaint him with his determination ; 
 at the same time requesting information on the three following 
 points : — 
 
 Firstly, the exact sum required to be paid on getting his 
 name replaced on the College books. 
 
 Secondly, when the examinations were to take place. 
 
AND STUDENT. 81 
 
 Thirdly, tlie books necessary to be read for examinatio n. 
 
 Tbe Tutor wrote an answer by return of post to the Student's 
 inquiries, on receipt of which the latter enclosed half-notes for 
 the amount of his demand, at the same time stating that on 
 the receipt of his acknowledgment of the half-notes, he should 
 send him the corresponding halves. The return of post brought 
 the Tutor's acknowledgment of the money, with a postscript, 
 stating that he had replaced the Student's name on the books, 
 and at the same time informing him of the books, — classic 
 and scientific, necessary to be read for examination, — when the 
 examination was to take place, and the necessary parts of the 
 books to be read for examination, to which he should direct his 
 particular atention in order to save his examination, &c. This 
 letter being full and satisfactory, the Student instantly enclosed 
 the corresponding half-notes. But on receipt of these the Tutor 
 wrote again to inform him, that, by a late law of the Board, it 
 was enacted that the students should pay their college fees a 
 certain number of days prior to the examination, and that 
 the Student's non-conformity to this law precluded him from 
 going in the next examination. On receipt of this letter, the 
 Student felt indignant, and instantly wrote to his Tutor to 
 complain of the deception practised on him. He accused him' 
 of neglect of duty in not acquainting him, in the first instance, 
 with the recent enactment of the Board. He next reminded 
 him, that he never said a word on the subject until he secured 
 the second half-notes ; not only this, but that he gave him all 
 the information required as to when the examination was 
 to take place, the books to be read, &o. ; and concluded his 
 letter by calling on the Tutor to return his money instcmter, 
 otherwise that he should bring the whole case under the con- 
 sideration of the Board. To this letter the Tutor returned no 
 
83 THE TUTOR 
 
 answer ;• whereupon the Student was resolved to prove that he 
 was not a man to be trifled with, and accordingly addressed a 
 letter to the Board, to acquaint them with all the circum- 
 stances of the case, at the same time enclosing the correspon- 
 dence already referred to between the Tutor and himself. 
 
 The following is a copy of his letter to the Board : — 
 
 " Mr. Provost and Eeverend Sirs, — I respectfully submit 
 that it was the duty of my Tutor to acquaint me with the late act 
 of the Board in regard to the payment of college fees. Nobody 
 can be expected to keep a-law unless he knows it ; but not only 
 has my Tutor not given me the necessary information, as in 
 duty bound, but he has actually -and wilfully deceived me 
 upon this point, as you may see by the enclosed correspondence 
 between the Reverend gentleman and me. I therefore humbly 
 hope you may consider me entitled to an exemption from the 
 operation of the late act, under the peculiar circumstances of 
 my case, and grant rae permission to go in the next examina- 
 tion. I have the honor to remain, Mr. Provost and Reverend 
 Sirs, your most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 " P. T. N." 
 
 To the above letter the Board did not- condescend to reply, 
 but ordered the Tutor to settle the difference between him 
 and the Student. This we infer .from the fact that the Reve- 
 rend Tutor addressed a letter to the Student a few days after 
 in reference to his letter to the Board. The Tutor's letter 
 was partly apologetic for his own remissness in not giving the 
 Student more timely notide of the late law of the Board ; but 
 he did not return the money. The Student was now puzzled 
 how to act. That the Tutor felt himself in a fix admitted of no 
 doubt ; but the Student being wholly incapable of vindictive feel- 
 
AND STUDENT, S6 
 
 ings, had no wish to press matters to extremities ; he therefore 
 laid the whole case before his father, and asked his advice as 
 to the best course to pursue under the circumstances, who, 
 having heard all the particulars, addressed the Student as fol- 
 lows : — " My dear boy, what can be the meaning of these 
 everlasting altercations between you and your Tutor ?. What 
 on earth do you expect to gain by going to loggerheads with 
 such a man ? Consider, that you have now to fight your own 
 battle in life, and that your duty and interest are equally 
 involved in making as many friends and as few enemies as 
 you can in this world. Kecollect that your Tutor has power to 
 serve or injure you ; but independent of every selfish consider- 
 ation, you are bound to give way to him, even though he may be in 
 the wrong ! Besides, it is always the best policy of the weak to go 
 to the wall; therefore do take my advice, and write him a conci- 
 liatory letter in your best style, again offering to extend to 
 him the hand of friendship ; — possibly he may refuse to accept 
 of it ; but even so, your letter must have the effect of, at least, 
 extracting the sting of his malevolence, and will show a for- 
 giving disposition on your part, which must rather raise than 
 lower you in the estimation of every good man. 'T is true 
 that, owing to his evident want of principle, you have been 
 thrown back an examination, but what of that ? You will have 
 the more time to read for the October examination, when you 
 can go up to Dublin and save your year. Your society at home 
 will be no small acquisition to me, and your brothers and sister, 
 for the next three months, therefore pray do make yourself 
 content for the present, and let your Tutor alone ; only write 
 to him the style of letter that I suggest by this evening's post, 
 and depend upon it you will never have cause to regret the 
 act." 
 
 a2 
 
04 THE TUTOB 
 
 The reasoning was unanswerable; the Student promised 
 instant compliance with his father's request, and having penned 
 a letter to his Tutor full of courtesy and kindness, he handed 
 it to his father, saying, " There, Sir, will that do for you ? 
 but 'tis no use, — only the fable of the wolf and the lamb 
 realized. I merely write to please you, but I know my man 
 too well to expect any good result from such a letter." His 
 father took the letter, and glancing it over, said, " That's 
 the very thing ; possibly the letter may do no good, as you 
 say, but certainly it can do no harm. Now post it, and rest 
 upon your oars until October ; the intermediate time you can 
 employ in reading for the October Prcemium." 
 
 The Student complied with his father's request, and having 
 posted his letter, made up his mind to submit with impunity to 
 the late act of his Tutor, and to remain with his own family 
 for the ensuing three months. 
 
AND STUDENT. 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 When I remember all the friends bo linked together; 
 That I have seen around me, fall like leaves in wintry weather, 
 I seem like one that treads alone some banquet-hall deserted, 
 Whose lights are dead, whose garlands sped, and all but I departed. — 
 
 Moo RE. 
 
 The Student found Ms father's house no longer the happy 
 home that it had been in the days of his boyhood ; — he could 
 no longer hear the fond " ■welcome home" of a beloved mother 
 after a long absence. His father's property was heavily mort- 
 gaged, — his family circle quite broken up ; and nothing to be 
 seen on the way-side but gathering clouds and gloomy prospects. 
 As yet there seemed no material alteration in his father's mode 
 of living ; the same table as formerly was stiU. kept up, and his 
 establishment, though limited, seemed that of an independent 
 gentleman. But it was evident that these appearances were all 
 deceptive, and could be only supported by raising additional 
 sums of money upon a property already too heavily encum- 
 bered; neither did it contribute much to the happiness of a 
 family who felt that such a state of things could not last long, 
 and that inevitable ruin must follow so headlong a career as 
 a necessary consequence. The Student had two surviving 
 sisters, the elder of whom had gone with her husband and 
 family some time before this to Australia; the younger— a 
 
86 THE TUTOE 
 
 child — ^had been sent to a public school before her mother's 
 death, where she still continued. His eldest brother, who was a 
 professional man, married a lady of great beauty and high 
 respectability in the city of Cork. He had two other 
 brothers, very wild young men, who got married, and seldom 
 visited at their father's house : so that the Student and his 
 father were at present the only inmates of the establishment ; 
 but circumstances of a nature too delicate to be publicly men- 
 tioned, rendered a residence in his father's house extremely 
 painful to the Student at the present time ; however he had 
 no alternative left him but to continue there, at least until 
 October, and to render his father every assistance in his 
 power both by word and deed. Such were the present circum- 
 stances of the Student's case. We trust the reader may now 
 excuse a slight digression from our autobiography while we 
 give a brief sketch of the distressed state of the South of 
 Ireland at this particular crisis, and of the causes that 
 led to its embarrassments and moral degradation. It will be 
 admitted that a residence of three months at this time in the 
 very /oc«s of insurrection, added to the fact of his being the 
 son of a resident landed proprietor, gives the Student some 
 right to be considered good authority on the subject on which 
 he writes. Of the ruined state of his father's afifairs we have 
 already given a short account : but bis embarrassments at the 
 time were nothing singular ; — distress was so general that in 
 a circuit of thirty miles from his father's residence, not more 
 than half a dozen gentlemen of independent property could 
 be found ; in fact, the country at the time seemed a perfect 
 wilderness. Not a human being 'was to be met with either on 
 the public roads, or engaged in agricultural pursuits ; no voice 
 
AND STUDENT. 87 
 
 was heard save that of despondence, and all seemed involved 
 io one common ruin. 
 
 The causes that led to this deplorable state of affairs -Were 
 many, but may be all reduced to two heads : Firstly, the radi- 
 cal defects of the landlord and tenant laws ; secondly, the 
 heartless and arbitrary conduct of the Irish landlords at that 
 crisis. These two heads we propose to consider separately; and 
 as to the first, we lay it down as a general principle, that every 
 system of law is radically bad that gives all power to the land- 
 lord and none to the tenant; — that enables the former to do as 
 he likes with the land without being in any way answerable to 
 the latter — at least, in no material point — whom he can dis- 
 charge as a servant on a short notice, only paying up to the 
 day. 
 
 Let us suppose, for instance, the case of a tenant who takes 
 a farm, say for twenty-one, sixty-one, or any term of years, 
 or a freehold interest for three lives, and that during, his 
 tenancy he reclaims his farm by draining, ditching, fencing, 
 &c. Let us moreover suppose that he lays out all the hard- 
 earned fruits of his industry in building a farm-house, out- 
 offices, &c. ; or improves his tenement by extensive plantations. 
 When the term of his tenancy expires, the landlord has the 
 power to turn him adrift on the world, and this without giving 
 him any compensation whatever for the money that he may 
 have expended. He can enter, like Ahab of old, into seisin, or 
 possession of the chattel or freehold interest of Naboth, and 
 sometimes punish him with death should he offer any oppo- 
 sition. Not only had the landlord the legal right to do this, 
 but he frequently and unscrupulously had exercised this right, 
 of which we have innumerable instances on record. There is 
 one case in particular, of a gentleman who took a farm in the 
 
8S. THE TUTOE. 
 
 county of Limerick as tenant from year to year, on which he 
 built a house at an expense of £600, under a promise, expressed 
 or implied, of a lease from his landlord ; but the house having 
 been built, the landlord found it his interest to possess himself 
 of the farm , but more so of the mansion, and accordingly gave his 
 tenant notice to quit, whereupon the latter feeling aggrieved that 
 the house on the building of which he had expended so much 
 money should become the property of a heartless and avaricious 
 landlord, without making any compensation to his tenant for 
 the expense of building, had recourse to the desperate alterna- 
 tive of getting his servant to set fire to the house, which was 
 effected by smearing the rafters with pitch, to which a match 
 being applied, the mansion soon became one heap of ruins ; 
 but the man employed to do the act turned King's evidence, 
 and informed against his master, who was tried for the crime 
 at the Limerick assizes, and being found guilty, was sentenced 
 to be hanged, the crime being then in the category of hanging 
 offences. 
 
 The Judge, in passing sentence on the convict, dwelt par- 
 ticularly on the bad effect that any mitigation of his sentence 
 would have upon society at that particular time. The convict 
 being a gentleman and a man of rank, the case at the time 
 excited universal sympathy, and a memorial was got up to the 
 Crown for a commutation of the sentence, signed by almost all 
 the magistrates and gentry of the county. A similar petition 
 was numerously signed by the people, pledging themselves that 
 no bad consequences should result, so far as they themselves 
 were concerned, from the extension of the clemency of the 
 Crown to the unhappy convict ; but all was vain : the ears of 
 mercy were stopped ; the law was allowed to take its course, 
 and the gentleman paid the penalty on the gibbet. 
 
AND STUDENT. 89 
 
 We repeat, that a system that gives such unlimited power 
 to the landlord' over his tenant is radically had, and savours 
 of despotism ; and that a Government that turns a deaf ear to 
 an appeal for mercy under the circumstances to which we 
 have referred, may harmonize with the meridian of Russia, 
 but is utterly inconsistent with the mild spirit of the British 
 constitution. 
 
 Thus much for the landlord and tenant law. 
 Secondly, we shall say a few words as to the heartless and 
 arbitrary conduct of the Irish landlords themselves at this 
 particular crisis, than which nothing can be more cruel, or 
 more deserving of public reprobation. In the first place, they 
 let their farms at a rack rent, — by which is meant the full value 
 of the land, — and put their peasant tenants on the potato, the 
 cheapest vegetable diet, so as to enable them to pay this rack 
 rent; they even expected them to ^pay war prices in times of peace; 
 but finding the tenant unable to pay, and unwilling to quit, they 
 served ejectments on the defaulters, whom they sent adrift upon 
 the world. This proved one prolific source of disaffection. 
 
 Another arose from the disfranchisement of the forty-shilling 
 freeholders. It will be remembered that this class of electors 
 were deprived of the right of voting on the passing of the 
 Catholic Emancipation Act, before which time it was the 
 policy of the landlords to multiply their numbers, and many 
 landlords of limited incomes, not exceeding £500 a year, 
 had frequently- no less than one hundred freeholders squatting 
 upon their estates, with a view of increasing this parlia- 
 mentary influence ; but the forty-shilling freeholders being 
 now extinct, the landlords were no longer interested in their 
 preservation, and betook themselves to what is called the 
 consolidation system, by throwing foiu: or five farms into 
 one, consequently this class were sent to shift for them- 
 
90 THE TDTOR 
 
 selves. Being thus left destitute and houseless, they joined 
 the tenant farmers above referred to, and combining with them 
 against the landlords, enacted a code of laws as " between 
 landlord and tenant," the infraction of which they punished 
 with the utmost rigor, frequently with the loss of life. The 
 Student recollects seeing, during his three months' sojourn 
 in the country, no less than- six hearses a day, bearing the 
 murdered corpses of those victims who ^had offended against 
 the laws of Captain Eock, — the assumed name of the ringleader 
 of this desperate band of conspirators ; whilst the destruction 
 of property by fire — including corn, hay, and dwelling-houses, — 
 was terrific to behold ; the country seemed frequently in a 
 blaze at night, for miles on every side, arising from these 
 conflagrations ; and to this is to be attributed^ the universal 
 desolation and solitude, of which we have already made men- 
 tion. The barony was proclaimed, the Insurrection Act 
 introduced, and the South of Ireland at the time had all the 
 appearance of an invaded country in possession of the enemy. 
 But to what is to be imputed this reign of terror, this whole- 
 sale destruction of property and human life ? We answer, that 
 the guilt of all lies at the doors of the Irish landlords ; — they 
 " sowed the seed, but Death has reaped the fruits." 
 
 The human heart sickens, and starts back horror-stricken, even 
 at the recollection of such scenes of bloodshed and murder ; but 
 again we repeat, all the guilt rests upon the heads of the Irish 
 landlords, who robbed the poor of the fruits of th.eir hard-earned 
 labor, and corrupted them by the contagion of their evil example; 
 but the day of retribution has at length reached them with a ven- 
 geance ; — the guilty do not escape punishment even in this life. 
 How awful the account they have to render when the Great Day of 
 reckoning arrives ! But ere we conclude this painful subject, we are 
 
AND STUDENT. 91 
 
 tempted to relate two anecdotes of two worthy resident landlords — 
 parnobile fratrum — known to ourselves, and with whom the Stu- 
 dent's family had been on habits of close intimacy. 
 
 One was a gentleman named S — ; the other a Mr. S — i both 
 magistrates, and men of large fortune in the county, the former 
 of wiom usually cultivated an extensive breadth of potatoes every 
 year, with a view of selling them to the poor " on credit," at 
 an exorbitant price, on " getting good solvent security." At 
 the time to which our statement refers, this worthy had some 
 thousand barrels of potatoes to dispose of, on the usual credit 
 terms, namely, one pound per barrel— fhe ready money price 
 of the potatoes at the time being ien shillings per barrel ; but the 
 cash price not being in strict accordance with the worthy gentle- 
 man's notions, he ordered a crier to publish, viva voce, in the 
 next market town the quantity of potatoes he had for sale, and 
 the terms on which they were to be sold " on credit." The 
 poor being at the time pinched by want, had no alternative but 
 to take the proferred credit; the three months being expired, the 
 security was usually obliged to pay the debt with costs. This is a 
 specimen of one Irish landlord : to this we shall add one more 
 anecdote of another worthy of the same stamp, who was a 
 magistrate residing near Doneraile, a small town in the south 
 of Ireland. This man, like the character in " Gil Bias," 
 who by attending to the affairs of the poor made himself 
 rich, kept a mill, where he usually sold large quantities of 
 flour to the poor in seasons of great dearth. 
 
 The worthy magistrate had a faithful steward, called Lawrence, 
 who acted as his almoner in distributing co^n to the poor on 
 these occasions. It so happened that one morning in particular 
 an unusual number of poor creatures, pinched by want, assembled 
 in front of the mill, waiting to get served ; the magistrate 
 
93 THE TDTOR 
 
 seemed much affected by the sad spectacle, and moved with 
 sympathy, thus addressed them : — " My poor people, I pity you 
 f rom my souL — May the Lord help you. I know not how you 
 can exist in such a season as this." Having spoken these words 
 audibly, he then turned to his Steward, and whispered into his 
 ear, " Larry, great call this morning ; raise another penny." 
 
 This worthy was only one of a class whose name was Legion. 
 JSx imo disce omnes was a Eoman proverb, which may be ap- 
 propriately applied to the Irish landlords as a body. We fear 
 that the reader is sick to nausea long ere this at our tales of the 
 Irish landlords ; but as the facts that we record are authentic, 
 many of them having come under the immediate observation of the 
 Student, we feel ourselves in duty bound to communicate them to 
 the public, — convinced that when the reasonable and thinking 
 portion of the community reflect upon the conduct of these land- 
 lords towards their helpless and dependent serfs, they will bemoved 
 with feelings of sympathy towards the latter, and attribute their 
 crimes less to natural depravity of heart, than to a mercurial sensi- 
 tiveness of character, goaded to the commission of crime by the 
 cruelty and tyranny of a class of men whose duty it should be to 
 guide and instruct, not to mislead or enslave — to elevate them in 
 the moral scale, rather than sink them to the level of the brute crea- 
 tion. But subsequent events have taught the Irish landlords a sad 
 lesson, convincing them of the ruinous impolicy of imposing rack 
 rents on their tenants. A little reflection should have proved to 
 them that, had they let their grounds on moderate terms, so as to 
 aUowthe tenant-farmerareasonable profit on his holding, the latter 
 feeling that he had an interest in his tenement, would cultivate it 
 with greater care, so as to make it more valuable ; — the conse- 
 quence would be punctuality in the payment of his rents : but a 
 rack-rent left the tenant no interest whatever in his holding, and 
 
AND STUDENT. 93 
 
 therefore, in assuming sucli rent the tenant did so forthe most part 
 with a predetermination to get what he could out of the ground, 
 and pay no rent at all, in furtherance of which determination he 
 generally ran oflf with his crops, leaving his farm for a considerable 
 time a perfect waste ; thus the landlord, in his cupidity to 
 grasp all, Kke the dog in the fable, gave up the substance for 
 the shadow, and became involved in the same ruin with his 
 tenant. We have no doubt that this short sketch will be admitted 
 by every rational and impartial individual acquainted with the 
 subject, to be a fair account of the landlord and tenant system, 
 and of the relative position of those parties respectively at the 
 period to which we refer. 
 
94 ' THE TUTOR 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 O qui oomplexus, et gaudia quanta faerunt : 
 
 Nil ego contulerim juoundo sanus amico. — Hobaoe. 
 
 The Student liaving resided tliree months in the country, as stated 
 in the last chapter, where he witnessed the horrid scenes which 
 we have attempted to describe, set oif for Dublin College the last 
 week in September, in order to go in the October examination, 
 and save his year ; the College rules requiring that students 
 intending to graduate in June should put in four examinations 
 in their senior sophister year j but he was no longer the man 
 that he had been two years before: the death of his mother, — 
 the embarrassed state of his father's property, — the shocking 
 scenes of bloodshed of which the South of Ireland was the national 
 Aceldama at that particular crisis— these preyed upon his mind, 
 entered deep into his heart, and imparted a serious and gloomy 
 color to his thoughts. 
 
 Having arrived in Dublin, he lost no time in calling on his 
 Tutor, to have a distinct understanding with him as to the pay- 
 ment of his quarterly notes. The first interview between him 
 and the Eeverend Doctor was, as may well be supposed, one of a 
 painful character. We have seen, in a former chapter, that he had 
 removed the Student's name from the CoDege books two years 
 before, owing to his inability to pay his pecuniary demands ; and 
 
AND STUDENT. 95 
 
 not content with this, that he had recently defrauded him of his 
 money in a way so glaring and unjustifiable, as rendered it neces- 
 sary for him to appeal against such injustice to the Board of 
 Trinity CoUege. It is true that the Board did not pay much 
 attention to his appeal, nevertheless this appeal is on record. 
 
 All these circumstances were still fresh in the recollection of 
 the Student ; nevertheless, as he had written a conciliatory 
 letter to his Tutor at his father's request, freely offering to forgive 
 and forget the past, he was resolved to prove by his acts, as 
 well as by his personal demeanor, that the tender of his friendship 
 was hond fide and sincere, not a hypocritical subterfuge to for- 
 ward his own selfish views : — at aU events, it was one point 
 gained that he now knew his man weU, and that he knew him to 
 be a character wholly indifferent to the feelings or opinions of any 
 pupils, so long as he could possess himself of their money ; 
 " Mem, q%oamq%e modo rem,," being his motto. 
 
 This knowledge served as a buckler to the Student against the 
 danger of being again victimized by the Eeverend gentleman ; he 
 therefore, as already observed, waited on him at chambers, 
 the morning of his airivalin Dublin, and found him, as formerly, 
 "flourishing like the gteen bay tree." The Student felt 
 the necessity of great caution and reserve in his first interview 
 with the Eeverend gentleman, and that his best line of policy 
 consisted in, at least, assuming an air of independence, without 
 o'erdoing his part, or exceeding the proper limits of becoming 
 decorum. ■ He was well aware that any symptom of weakness or 
 want of independence on his part, could not serve his purpose, 
 and would only have the effect of lowering him in the opinion 
 of his Tutor, who would conclude with Dr. Primrose that 
 the Student was poor, " should he take too much pains 
 to make himself pleasing." He was, therefore, resolved 
 
96 THE TUTOB 
 
 to obviate such an inference, and with a degree of nonchalance 
 less real than aifeeted, thus addressed the Tutor at his iirst in- 
 terview,— r"Doctor, quite happy to see you — how do youdo — ^you 
 see I am still alive — this proves that the days of miracle- 
 working have not yet passed by." The Eeverend gentleman 
 having reciprocated the compliments of the Student, the latter 
 continued, — " Let me now first of @\\ come to the point, and 
 settle the old qucsatio vexata, the money matter, as soon as possible 
 — ^how much is it ? — ^being at present in cash, the sooner I settle 
 this knotty question the better." He found that this speech, par- 
 ticularly the latter part of it, produced a favourable impression 
 on the Tutor, who requested the Student to take a seat for a 
 moment, and that he would satisiy his inquiries. He ac- 
 cordingly referred to his books, and having made a memorandum 
 of his claim, handed it to the Student, who instantly paid the 
 amount. " AH right," observed the Tutor ; " this pays your 
 way up to the present time — I shall have no further claim on 
 you until January — I suppose we may expect your company 
 to breakfast on examination morning." To this the Student 
 answered, "If possible, I shaR do myseK the honor." He 
 then arose, bowed to his Tutor, and took his departure. 
 
 The entire scene did not last longer than five or six minutes. 
 This important point being arranged, the Student next turned 
 his thoughts towards his former College friends, the dearest of 
 whom was the Eeverend W. Q — , at present the Eector of D — , 
 in the North of Ireland. An intimacyof several years' standing had 
 subsisted between this Eeverend gentleman and the Student, which 
 was strengthened by a strong religious tie, arising from the consi- 
 deration that he was indebted, under Providence, to the society and 
 conversation of his Eeverend friend, for the change which had taken 
 place of late years in his religious opinions ; he was also one of the 
 
AND STUDENT. 97 
 
 few with whom the Student kept up a regular correspondence during 
 his residence in the county, and consequently was no stranger to 
 the history of his sufferings and domestic afflictions. On calling at 
 his chambers in College, fortunately the Student found him at home . 
 The meeting of these two devoted friends after a long absence, was 
 one of the utmost cordiality and delight, and the Student instantly 
 accepted his friend's invitation to pass the entire day with him. 
 " I must have you this day altogether to myself, and shall not 
 allow any one to intrude upon us. Tour career has been a singular 
 one since we parted ; neither is my own wholly void of interest — 
 let us only compare notes, — the result must be productive of mu- 
 tual pleasure, edification, and improvement." Such were the words 
 of the Keverend gentleman ; he then gave orders for dinner at 
 five o'clock, it being then eleven, and the two friends agreed to 
 take a country walk before dinner in the direction of Clontarf, 
 the scene of their former rambles. In going along the Student 
 gave his friend an abridged history of "all he read, and all he 
 saw," since they last parted. His friend listened with intense 
 interest, and ui his turn gave a sketch of his personal his- 
 tory, which, however, was not crowded with many striking in- 
 cidents. He was a fellowship man, wholly immersed in study, — 
 and the lives of such men are, in general, tame, monotonous, and 
 uninteresting ; but the Student's friend, though a man of science, 
 was nevertheless a perfect gentleman, of polished manners, and 
 the most kind and amiable disposition, qualities which recom- 
 mended him to the notice of some of the first men in the University^ 
 by whom his society was courted ; this gave him access to sources 
 of private information in respect to the University, to which 
 other students were strangers ; he was well acquainted with the 
 public and private characters, not only of the Senior and Junior 
 I'eUows, but of every man of any note in College ; consequently 
 
 H 
 
98 THE TUTOR 
 
 to a man like the Student, long absent from the University, 
 such a friend must have proved a delightful and interesting com- 
 panion on his return, being a standard authority in all matters 
 appertaining to College. 
 
 The Student's first inquiries referred to his old Class-fellows, 
 some of whom he learnt had taken their degrees and left the 
 University; others, on whose devoted heads the daughter of Jove 
 had laid her "iron scourge," were forced to go to the wall, or bend 
 beneath the storm ; some few still lingered behind ; — of the latter 
 class was the Student's friend, who was reading for fellowship ; 
 and a few "went the way of all flesh." " What about our former 
 friend I—," said the Student, " is he still in College?" " Oh, 
 don't ask about him," was the answer. "Pray do not ask 
 particulars ; the case is too harrowing ; suffice it to say, Vixit." 
 '' You don't mean to say he is dead !" " Oh, yes," was the 
 reply ; "he has fallen a victim to the most foul and formidable 
 of all antagonists — famine." " Merciful God ! can it be true?" 
 " I thought," answered the Student's friend, " that you must 
 have heard all about it. Have you not seen the last number of 
 the ' University ? ' It contained an awful tale, entitled the 
 ' Murdered Student,' which referred to the sad fate of our poor 
 friend. Is it possible you have not seen or heard of this article ?" 
 " Never a syllable," answered the Student. " I feel sick at 
 heart — the case is too shocking, more than I can bear." Here 
 a pause ensued. The Student passed his handkerchief over 
 his face, overpowered by his feeKngs. " Come, come," observed 
 his friend, " no more of this weakness ; let us act like men, and 
 not imitate women or children." " My dear friend," answered 
 the Student, "pray excuse — I cannot well help myself; there 
 are times when the heart is so fuU that it requires vent. I 
 cannot all at once check my feelings; by degrees I may; — 
 
AND STUDENT. 99 
 
 recollect that Jesus ' wept for Lazarus dead !'" "I know, and feel 
 it," answered the Eeverend gentleman ; " at all events, let us 
 drop this subject for the present. This evening 1 shall resume 
 the sad story, and acquaint you with all particulars, when you 
 may be better prepared to hear them." He then changed the 
 conversation by inquiring into the pecuniary circumstances of 
 the Student, and expressed great pleasure on hearing that he had 
 arranged his Tutor's claim. He also felt much amused at the 
 Student's account of the late interview between him and his 
 Tutor. Evening being come, the Reverend gentleman resumed 
 the story of the " murdered student" as follows : — " The history 
 of poor P — is, indeed, a shocking affair. Here it has caused the 
 deepest sensation, and the most intense interest ; it has been for 
 some time the all-engrossing topic of the day, and furnished sub- 
 ject-matter for the late article in the ' University Magazine,' en- 
 titled the ' Murdered Student,' to which I have already referred. 
 The article does not go the length of stating that his tutor ac- 
 tually laid violent hands on our poor friend — not quite so bad as 
 this ; but you recollect the old proverb, ' many ways of killing a 
 dog without hanging him;' and he who refuses a helping hand to a 
 sinking man does in" effect the same as the man that administers 
 to him a fatal draught, or strikes the vital blow :" to this the 
 Student assented. 
 
 " Now," continued his friend, " I shall give you the history of 
 the ill-fated young man, just as I myself have heard it, on the au- 
 thority of his nearest friends. Tou knew him — he was under 
 the same tutor as yourself; his social qualities endeared him to 
 all; his genius reflected honor on human nature, but disgrace 
 on the University to which he belonged ;— do not imagine that I 
 am so hardened as to be indifferent to his fate ; if so, I should 
 be what I hope you do not think me — a man without a heart, 
 
 h2 
 
100 THE TUTOE 
 
 and unworthy of your friendship ; — ^but let me proceed : the 
 father of this ill-fated young man was a gentleman formerly 
 possessed of very considerable property in the county of Dublin ; 
 but at the death of a brother, lately returned from abroad, 
 where he realized a large fortune, he unfortunately had been 
 appointed guardian and sole executor to his nephew, the son 
 of his deceased brother, then a minor in his eighteenth year. 
 The guardian, like most country gentlemen of his class, was a 
 man of dissipated habits and fond of expensive amusements. 
 He was also a racing man, and consequently a betting man. 
 For a short time he had a run of luck ; but the cards took 
 a turn that involved him in great difficulties. In order to re- 
 trieve his loss, he appropriated a considerable portion of his 
 nephew's property to the payment of his own debts ; but the 
 nephew having attained his majority, called upon the uncle to 
 account for his stewardship, and in default a Chancery suit was 
 the consequence, which, however, was compromised — the executor 
 undertaking to effect an insurance on his own life for the benefit of 
 the nephew to the amount of the uncle's defalcations, and appro- 
 priating an annuity of four hundred pounds a-year towards the pay- 
 ment of the policy of insurance. Some time after this the uncle 
 died, when the nephew received the benefit of the insurance ; but 
 the family of the deceased was reduced to utter destitution. The 
 murdered student — I cannot help calling him so, — entered 
 Trinity College as a pensioner about two years before his father's 
 death, and from his distinguished abilities was likely to carry 
 every thing before him ; but the sudden death of his father 
 proved a sad blow, and deprived him of the means of going on 
 with his class, particularly as he had committed the same fatal 
 mistake as the Student in the selection of a tutor. This was 
 the rock on which he too suffered shipwreck — this the Charybdis 
 
AND STUDENT. 101 
 
 that swallowed him up. The ' murdered student ' being now 
 pressed by want, had recourse to a common expedient, that of 
 accepting an engagement as private tutor in a family of rank in 
 Dublin, as a temporary means of support. The gentleman by 
 whom he was engaged had an only daughter, an heiress, a young 
 lady of great personal attractions, as well as mental accomplish- 
 m ents The suitors for the hand of the lady were many, and 
 of high degree ; but to aU she seemed perfectly indifferent, 
 and a report went abroad that she had decided on leading 
 a Hfe of celibacy ; but this, however, was a mistake ; — there 
 was a cause ; the cause she candidly told to her mother, viz., tha^- 
 she had fixed her affections on her brother's tutor, and could 
 think of nobody else, though she declared at the same time that 
 the young gentleman was wholly unconscious of her attach- 
 ment. The family on hearing this felt quite indignant, — 
 the tutor was instantly dismissed the house, though guilty of 
 no offence, save that of writing a birth-day ode on the young 
 heiress, which he did at the mother's request. Being thus dis- 
 gracefully discharged, he instantly called on his College Tutor, 
 to acquaint him with the circumstance, and complain of the 
 treatment he received ; but the Eeverend gentleman assuming his 
 guilt, severely reprimanded him for his foUy and presumption in 
 tampering with the feelings of a young lady so much above him 
 in Hfe. It was in vain that the young gentleman indignantly 
 denied the charge; the tutor would not listen to a word of ex- 
 planation, but told him that he could never again think of in- 
 troducing him to another family so that in future he should do 
 as others do, and fight his own battles, single-handed, as well as 
 he was able. 
 
 " The gentleman's situation was now desperate in the extreme. 
 He had made no reserve to meet the evil day; — the few months 
 
102 THE TUTOR 
 
 that lie held his situation did not admit of it, and he had been 
 arbitrarily dismissed, being only paid up to the day, — conse- 
 quently he had scarcely a sixpence to exist upon ; it is true he 
 had college friends, who would have assisted him had they 
 known the real state of his affairs; but his youthful pride 
 spurned the idea of appealing to the bounty of friends. Under 
 the circumstances he rather chose to sell his library, and try to 
 live on the profits of the sale until something might turn up ; 
 but the small sum that his books fetched did not last long, and 
 this being spent, his next desperate alternative was to raise 
 money on his wearing apparel. 
 
 " At this crisis some kind friend sent him an anonymous con- 
 tribution, but of a small amount ; and the same individual wrote 
 to his tutor, to acquaint him with the extremities to which his 
 pupil was reduced, but nothing resulted from the letter ; — ^the 
 tutor took no notice. Destitution now stared the wretched man 
 in the face : his nakedness prevented him from appearing in 
 public, his pride from appealing to public sympathy. At length 
 his constitution began to give way : his landlord, a kind-hearted 
 man, would have helped him had he known the extent of his 
 distress, but this the unhappy man industriously concealed, and 
 for several days could only be prevailed 'upon to take a little 
 tea and dry toast. 
 
 " At length the good-natured landlord, at the sick man's re- 
 quest, acquainted a Eeverend friend with his illness. Having 
 heard the melancholy intelligence, the gentleman called in- 
 stantly to see him. On entering the sick man's room, the latter 
 fixed his eyes stedfastly upon him without uttering a single word, 
 whereupon the Clergyman, having pressed the burning hand 
 of his friend, said, ' My dear fellow, what can be the meaning 
 of this ? How is it you have not sent for me sooner ? How 
 
AND STDDENT" 103 
 
 could you act thus towards your friend ?' ' You are my friend 
 indeed — my dear friend — I knew you to be so — ^you have 
 ever been dear to me ; therefore I now answer your question 
 in all humility — ^with the utmost candour I answer it. Pride, 
 false pride ! the besetting sin of my life, has brought me to 
 this, — has stopped my mouth, — sealed my lips, and prevented 
 me from communicating my sufferings and privations to those 
 friends who were able and willing to serve me. My proud nature 
 spumed the idea of receiving charity from the hands of my 
 feUow-man, however dear to me ; to me death seemed preferable 
 to such a humiliating alternative, and death is now come to the 
 rescue. I now repent my false pride ; but repentance ever comes 
 too late for this life, — ^never too late for the next. My pride was 
 founded on a wrong principle, this I now admit. What, my dear 
 friend, has poor vain man to be proud of in this life ? He has 
 nothing that he can call his own, nothing that he has not re- 
 ceived from the bounteous hand of the Giver of " every good and 
 perfect gift," who has so constituted human society that all its 
 members should be mutually dependent one upon the other ; 
 therefore, from the cradle to the grave — ^from the helpless babe, 
 " mewling and puking in its nurse's arms," to the nonagenarian 
 who " shifts into the lean and slipper pantaloons," no one is inde- 
 pendent of his fellow-man; every created being requires a helping 
 hand from his neighbour ; and aU look up to and are dependent 
 on the Author of life, and the eternal fountain of love and 
 charity. On Him my heart is now fixed — immovably fixed — no 
 earthly consideration could urge me to forego this heavenly con- 
 solation, or turn my heart back to the perishable things of this 
 life. In sendiag for you, my dear friend, on the present solemn 
 occasion, I am influenced by a double motive ; first, to receive 
 your last blessing, and say farewell to one of my best earthly 
 
104 THE TUTOK 
 
 friends ; secondly, to solicit a favor at your hands, which I am 
 sure you will not deny to your dying friend. Tou know Mr. 
 T — ; he is your friend ; he was mine. See him when I am no 
 more,and assure him on the faith of a dying Christian man 
 that! never tampered with feelings of his daughter; neither 
 did I imagine that she ever bestowed a serious thought upon 
 one so insignificant as myself; and even though I should be aware 
 of this, no human consideration could induce me to encourage a 
 clandestine attachment, without the sanction of her parents. 
 This would be a breach of honor and confidence, as repugnant 
 to my feelings as it is inconsistent with the whole tenor of my 
 life." 
 
 These words were uttered with a firm and unfaltering tone of 
 voice ; but they were the last words of the " murdered 
 student " — ^the final effort of expiring nature. His Eeverend 
 friend being greatly moved, promised to give effect to his re- 
 quest, whereupon the dying man fixed his eyes for a moment 
 on his friend's face. The expression of his countenance was cahn, 
 resigned, and heavenly ; he then fell off into a gentle sleep — it 
 was " the iron sleep of Death " — the precursor of eternal gloiy. 
 The College clock had just tolled a quarter to twelve ; the outer 
 gate was about to close ; so the Student, who had to sleep in 
 town, arose much affected by the sad tale — wished his friend an 
 affectionate good night, and having promised to come to break- 
 fast the following morning, took his departure. 
 
AND STUPENT. 105 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Let Fate do its worst, there are relics of joy, 
 
 Bright dreams of the past, which it cannot destroy ; 
 
 Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, 
 
 And bring back those traces that joy used to wear. — Mooee. 
 
 The society of the Eeverend W. Q — was to our Student a 
 source of the most unmixed gratification on his return to the 
 Dublin University. This, in some measure, served to reconcile 
 him to past sorrows, and inspired him with fresh hopes that 
 better and happier days might be still ia reserve for him. He 
 had saved his year by going in the October examination ; after 
 which, he and his fxiend arranged to breakfast and dine' 
 together every day for the ensuing half-year. To these times 
 the Student will ever look back with the purest pleasure, as 
 some of the best-spent and happiest days of his life. Their 
 private walks, their country excursions, the variety of topics, 
 literary, religious, and philosophical, that occupied the attention 
 of these devoted friends in the times to which we refer, are 
 among the happiest reminiscences of the Student's bygone days, 
 and can never be thought of without mixed feelings of the 
 most painful and pleasurable nature, — the former arising from 
 the shortness of their duration ; the latter from the improvement 
 and edification which they were so well calculated to impart, 
 — feelings that were considerably enhanced by the flattering 
 
106 THE TUTOR 
 
 consideration, that his Eeverend friend shared his sentiments, 
 and claimed an equal participation in the benefits resulting 
 from their mutual intercourse. The discussions referred to be- 
 tween the Student and his Eeverend friend at this time, might, 
 if published, furnish subject-matter for several volumes, which 
 would be read with interest and advantage even at this remote 
 period ; but as the present volume is only intended as a history 
 of the Tutor and Student, from the time that the latter en- 
 tered the University up to the period of his taking his degree, 
 we deem it more consistent with our original intention to limit 
 ourselves, for the remainder of this work, to a simple statement 
 of facts that have come under the immediate observation of the 
 Student, and in which he himself has been a principal actor, rather 
 than to deviate from our rule, by the introduction of any new 
 matter, which, however useful and interesting in the abstract, 
 is not so well calculated to impart practical knowledge — ^to 
 arrest public attention, and to fix itself in the minds of our 
 readers, as those facts of which our Student has had personal 
 cognizance, and the truth of which can be attested by the most 
 unquestionable evidence. We have already stated that the 
 Student saved his year in October. We now pass by the two 
 succeeding examinations of January and April, in which 
 nothing material occurred between the Tutor and Student, save 
 that the latter kept the examinations, and paid his Tutor's 
 quarterly notes ; — and bring our history down to the June ex- 
 amination, when the Student was about to become a candidate 
 Bachelor, and to answer for his degree. At this period, 'a re- 
 markable event took place, which, though but an episode in the 
 history of the Student, we nevertheless deem of sufficient in- 
 terest to introduce into our narrative — the reader may see by 
 reference to a former chapter that the Student's father had been 
 
AND STUDENT. 107 
 
 arrested about a year and a half before this time for £75, 
 a security debt, for which he had become personally answer- 
 able, and that the Student, to save the father from prison, 
 became party to a bond for the above amount, payable in twelve 
 months. Of the said bond the Student paid ^670 before the ex- 
 piration of a year, leaving a balance of £5 due on foot of judg- 
 ment. He could never imagine, that, having paid £70 out 
 of £75, the amount of the judgment debt, any harsh pro- 
 ceedings would be resorted to for the £5 remaining over. But 
 in this the Student proved his innocence of the ways of the world, 
 in which there exists a race of men " yclept attorney," whose 
 grasping propensities seem to render them so oaRous to the 
 sufferings of the great human family, as almost whoUy to ex- 
 tinguish in their hearts every latent spark of human kindness. 
 In this numerous class, it is possible there may be one or two 
 good ones. It has been our lot to have met with two or three 
 in our day, whose redeeming qualities rendered them ornaments 
 to society, and an honor to human nature herself. We are also 
 informed there has been another exception to the general rule, 
 whose honored remains are interred in the old church of St. 
 Pancras, and on whose tomb is engraved the following epitaph, — 
 
 "Here lies B — , deny it who can, 
 Tho' an attorney, he was an honest man — 
 For him the gates of Heaven will open wide, 
 When they '11 be shut 'gainst all the tribe beside." 
 
 These were bright but rare exceptions to the general rule, — we 
 wish we could name another, but our experience does not enable 
 us to go to that extent; certainly, Mr. H. K — , the Cork attorney, 
 is not of the number ; — of this the reader must feel convinced 
 when we inform him that this was the veritable individual that 
 sued out execution against our iU-fated Student for the five 
 
108 THE TUTOE 
 
 pounds balance of the above-named bond, which this charitable 
 attorney swelled by law expenses up to twenty-fiye pounds, for 
 which sum he arrested the ill-starred Student, and had him 
 securely lodged in the Sheriffs' prison in Dublin, about a fort- 
 night before the June examination, when he was about to answer 
 for his degree. This blow seemed for the moment almost to ex- 
 tinguish every ray of hope in the heart of the Student. He nowfelt 
 as if he were of the number of the doomed, fated to perish, and 
 that any further effort on his part would be wholly unavailing; but 
 a moment's reflection dissipated these despondent murmurs, and 
 brought him to a more rational view of his o wn case, which, after all, 
 was nothing more than a natural consequence of the position in 
 which he had placed himself, and for which nobody but himself 
 ought reasonably to be blamed. Impressed with the rationality 
 and soundness of his altered opinions, he instantly set his wits to 
 work as to the best means of extricating himself from his pre- 
 sent dilemma. Having been captured about 9 o'clock, p.m., he 
 had no alternative left him but to content himself for the night 
 where he was ; he therefore took up his abode in what is called 
 the hotel of the prison. 
 
 The night, as may well be imagined, was a restless one, and 
 the plans various that entered the Student's head for his personal 
 liberation. His first impulse was to communicate the state of 
 his case to his only friend in College ; and had the debt for which 
 he was arrested been a small sum — anything under five pounds, 
 he should not hesitate for a moment to draw upon his friend for 
 that amount ; but twenty-five -pounds was rather a serious affair, 
 and his fear was lest his friend, had he heard of it, might put 
 himself to personal inconvenience in endeavouring to make up 
 this sum, owing to his great anxiety for the safety of his Mend ; 
 besides, the Student's own circumstances were far from being 
 
AND STUDENT. 109 
 
 desperate at the time. He had deposited £300 about three 
 months before in the hands of his attorney, towards the payment 
 of his debts ; but the evil was that this attorney was then at his 
 country residence, a distance of 120 miles from Dublin; and 
 there was no possibility of getting a remittance from him in less 
 than four days, there being then neither railways nor electric 
 wires ; but taking aU things into consideration, he felt that his 
 only alternative consisted in writing instantly to his attorney. He 
 accordingly called for ink and paper, and having penned a short 
 letter, despatched it by that night's post ; his next act was to 
 write a few lines to his friend in College, with whom he was en- 
 gaged to breakfast the following morning. This letter he sent 
 by a special messenger, with orders not to go to the chambers of his 
 friend, but to deliver it to the gate porter at the College-gate ; — 
 on the cover was the word " Immediate." 
 
 The following is a copy : — 
 
 " Saturday, 10 o'clock, p.m. 
 
 " My deak Q — , 
 
 , " Win you kindly excuse my not going to breakfast to- 
 morrow morning ? — I even fear I must forego the pleasure of 
 seeing you for four days to come ; circumstances, over which 
 I can have no control, leave me no alternative in this case ; the 
 nature of these circumstances you shall hear when we meet. All 
 I can say at present, is, that I am quite well, and shall see you 
 the instant I find myself disengaged ; but I am just now in the 
 same predicament as Sterne's starling, ' I can't go out.' — Ever 
 yours truly, "N." 
 
 " To the Eeverend W. Q— , 
 " 33, Trinity College." 
 
 " The receipt of the above letter iilled the friend to whom 
 it was addressed with the utmost astonishment ; but he felt 
 
1 1 THE TDTOR 
 
 wholly incapable of unravelling the mystery, and had no alter- 
 native left him but to wait the result with as much patience 
 as the intensity of his interest in favor of the Student could 
 admit of. The circumstances of the Student at the present time 
 were critical in the extreme ; he had to answer for his degree in 
 less than a fortnight, and felt himself but very inadequately made 
 up to undergo the examination. To remedy this evil, he procured 
 the necessary books, and having shut himself up in his room for 
 four days, read up the most essential portions of his examina- 
 tion with the closest attention ; but in the afternoon of the 
 fourth day, he received a letter from his attorney, inclosing him 
 a cheque for £25, the exact sum for which he had been arrested, 
 which he immediately paid in, but still found himself without 
 means to pay gaol fees, amounting to one pound, for the non- 
 payment of which he was still detained a prisoner. 
 
 It was then five o'clock p.m., and the Student began to feel quite 
 fidgetty at the thought of being obliged to spend another night 
 in prison. He also heard it whispered about that the prisoners, 
 with whom he had not associated, or to whom he had not spoken 
 since his committal to prison, had entered into a conspiracy to 
 cool the Student's pride as they termed it, by drawing him under 
 the pump, and treating him to a shower bath, it being their 
 usual mode of punishing such fellow-prisoners as did not conform 
 to their rules. The Student feeUng alarmed at the idea of such 
 rough usage, took a seat in the hatchway for protection, whilst 
 waiting an answer to a letter that he had written to his attorney's 
 clerk for one pound to pay his gaol fees ; but the messenger 
 not returning, the Student saw no other alternative left him than 
 to throw himself on the generosity of his fellow-prisoners. 
 He accordingly entered the public room, where all were as- 
 sembled, — some at dinner, others having ali'cady dined. On 
 
AND STUDENT. Ill 
 
 seeing him the company rose to a man, to welcome their 
 fellow-prisoner ; and having given Mm a seat the Student again 
 arose, and addressed them as foEows : — " Gentlemen, and 
 fellow-prisoners — ere I quit this prison, where I have been de- 
 tained for the last four days, I deem it my duty to account to you 
 for my seeming inattention to your rules since I came amongst 
 you. I am the more anxious to satisfy you on this point, that 
 I am given to understand that my conduct has been erroneously 
 attributed to pride, which I consider an unbecoming feeling on 
 the part of any individual, but particularly of men in our 
 situation." — Here one of the prisoners interrupting, said, 
 " Mr. Collegian, I wish to know if you have had any dinner this 
 day ?" — to this interrogatory the Student candidly answered in 
 the negative — "Then," said the interrogator, "be it known to you 
 that it is quite contrary to our rules to hear any man on an 
 empty stomach ; therefore, ere you proceed with your speech we 
 require of you to comply with one of our rules, by taking part 
 of our fare, after which we shall hear what you have to say for 
 yourself — ^not before." 
 
 These words were no sooner spoken than one of the gentlemen 
 helped the Student most abimdantly to part of a shoulder of 
 mutton, whilst another mixed him some hot whisky punch, 
 which he insisted upon his drinking. During this scene 
 hardly a word was spoken ; — the Student never ate a dinner 
 with a better relish. But, dinner being over, the captain 
 of the mess again rose, and addressing the Student, said, 
 " Now, Mr. Collegian, that you have complied with one of 
 OUT rules, by taking part of our fare, we wish you to conform 
 to another rule, by acquainting us with the circumstances to 
 which we are indebted for the honor of your company in the 
 Sheriffs' prison." The Student instantly obeyed the call, by 
 
113 THE TUTOR ' 
 
 rising and stating the facts as before narrated. The recital pro- 
 duced a thrilling eifect dn his auditory. Having concluded his 
 speech, a simultaneous burst of indignation arose, followed by a 
 call for " three groans for the rogue, H. K — !" — which was 
 loudly responded to. Another offered up a fervent ejaculation, 
 which, if granted, would have the effect of consigning the unfor- 
 tunate attorney, not only for life, but eternity, to a hot corner, 
 out of which egress is not very practicable. The effect produced 
 by the Student's statement may be inferred from the fact, that 
 when he had concluded, one of the prisoners drew near him, and 
 slipping a sovereign into his hand, said, in an under-voice, " This 
 will pay your gaol fees — ^you can pay me again when convenient— r 
 you know where to find me ; but say nothing of this to the other 
 prisoners." Such an act as this proves that, even amongst the 
 most reckless and profligate of the human race, some " flowerets 
 of Eden" may still be gathered, some noble and generous spirits 
 found, whose practical benevolence and unostentatious generosity 
 put to shame the sentimentality of the Churchman, and the 
 boasted liberality of the self-styled philanthropist. 
 
 The Student accepted with gratitude the loan so generously 
 tendered ; and having taken leave of his fellow prisoners, and 
 pressed the hand of his generous friend, entered the hatchway, 
 where he paid the gaol fees, and quitted the prison. His way 
 lay over Carlisle Bridge, in crossing which he met his at- 
 torney's clerk, who handed him £10, on receipt of which he 
 retraced his steps to the gaol, — repaid his friend with repeated 
 acknowledgments ; immediately after which, he proceeded in 
 haste to the chambers of his friend in College, but not finding him 
 at home, he left word he should be with him to breakfast the fol. 
 lowing morning. He then returned direct to his lodgings — went 
 instantly to bed, and had a few hours' refreshing sleep — a luxury 
 
AND STUDENT. 113 
 
 that he did not enjoy since his committal to prison. The 
 Student rose early the following morning, and went to breakfast 
 with his Eeverend friend, whose curiosity was on the qui 
 vive to learn the cause of the Student's long absence; but 
 having heard all, curiosity was turned into utter astonishment. 
 The hospitality of the prisoners in the Sheriifs' prison, and 
 particularly the generosity of an individual prisoner, in lending 
 the Student money to pay his gaol fees, called forth the 
 warmest expression of. his approbation. The Severend gen- 
 tleman concluded his moral remarks on this subject in the 
 following words : " What a contrast does the conduct of the 
 poor inmates of the Sheriffs' prison present to that of the 
 proud Fellows of Trinity College ! The former are ever ready to 
 sympathize with and relieve the wants of their fellow-men ; the 
 latter, on the contrary, seem wholly callous and insensible to his 
 sufferings : of both these classes, you yourself have had practi- 
 cal personal experience ; — your late residence in the Sheriffs 
 prison has furnished you \^'ith an example of the former ; your 
 own Tutor is a living instance of the latter. Oh ! then, my 
 dear friend, let me exhort you never to covet wealth, which 
 is the root of all evil ; independence is a legitimate object of 
 pursuit, but beyond this, let no ambition lead you, as you value 
 the salvation of your immortal soul. " Woe to you that are rich, 
 for you have your consolation," was the denunciation of our 
 Lord himself ; — may we never be in the number of those to whom 
 such awful words are addressed, but rather seek that wealth 
 which neither " moth nor rust doth consume." The Eeverend 
 gentleman concluded an impressive lecture founded on the late 
 prison scene ; after which, the friends took their usual country 
 excursion, but returned about twelve o'clock, the Student having 
 
114 THE TUTOR 
 
 to settle an account with his Tutor before answering for his degree, 
 which he intended to do the day following. 
 
 Having paid his quarterly note, which he considered to be his 
 last payment, he lost no time in acquainting his friend with the 
 happy circumstance, thanking God that he was then quite free 
 from any further demands on the part of his Tutor. The following 
 two days were occupied with the examinations, when the Stu- 
 dent was successful in answering for his degree, notwithstanding 
 the short time left him to prepare for it. This matter being off 
 his mind, he and his Eeverend friend passed the remainder of 
 that day mutually happy in each other's society. 
 
AND STUDENT. 115 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
 Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, 
 Nor set (Jowu ought In malice. — Shakespeaue. 
 
 The Student had now passed his final examination, as stated in 
 our last chapter, and had answered for his degree, which he 
 was about to take at the Commencements next following the June 
 examination. But now, hear the sequel ; — ^hear it, you, reader, 
 whoever you are ; wherever you may be, — hear it, both Jew 
 and Gentile, bond and free — ^hear it aU, and then — ^hold down 
 your heads, and blush with shame at the baseness of the human 
 heart, and the depravity of the human character. A few days 
 before the Commencements, the Student met his Tutor casually 
 in the courts of College, when the latter, first recognising him, 
 said, " N — , I want to speak to you particularly ; will you give 
 me a call to-morrow morning, at chambers, about ten o'clock ? 
 I should have written to you, had I known your address." The 
 Student promised to call at his Tutor's request, and went his 
 way, wondering what could be the nature of his business — is it 
 possible he may have another fatal shaft remaining in his 
 quiver, which he was anxious to discharge at his pupil ere they 
 took a final leave of one another ? At all events, the Student 
 knew there must be something particular in the case ; but what 
 
 i2 
 
116 THE TUTOR 
 
 that was lie could not imagine. However, he was punctual to 
 his appointment the following morning, and knocked at the 
 Tutor's door as the college clock was in the act of striking ten. 
 On entering his Tutor's study he said, "Well, Dr. L — , the ides 
 of March are at length come, and I am on the eve of taking this 
 fugitive degree, that has so long eluded my grasp." " Yes, N — ," 
 was the reply ; " but you may remember my having told you 
 some years ago, that you owed me a balance in account, which 
 I should require of you to pay if it ever came to the taking of 
 your degree," " Merciful God I " exclaimed the Student, 
 " do you mean to conjure up a fresh phsntom to scare me ? 
 I owe you nothing — not a single fraction — I have already 
 paid aU; you yourself have repeatedly told me so; — your 
 receipts prove it — you, sir, are in my debt, not I in yours : 
 but let this pass j what fresh item this, that you are about to 
 trump up against me ? — what is the amount ?" " Mfteen 
 guineas," was the reply. " Mfteen guineas ! " ejaculated the 
 horror-stricken Student ; " assuredly it must be all a hoax ; you 
 cannot mean what you say !" "A little time will prove to you- 
 whether I am in jest or earnest," said the Tutor. Having 
 spoken these words, he "grinned a ghastly smile," quite ominous 
 of his determination. The alarmed Student instantly left the 
 room, and going straight to the chambers of his Eeverend friend, 
 told him all. " Impossible !" said his friend — " quite impos- 
 sible ; he will not, he cannot — he dare not do what he says ; it 
 is nothing but an empty, impotent threat to frighten you ; — 
 pray do not fidget yourself for nothing at all." " My dear 
 friend," answered the Student, " I know something of human 
 nature; I have bought my knowledge, at a high price. I 
 believe with Bums that — 
 
 " Where self the wavering balance shakes, 'tis rarely right adjusted." 
 
AND STUDENT. 117 
 
 You will therefore permit me to know my own Tutor better than 
 you can ; he is a man that will stop at nothing where his interest 
 is involved ; you know he has already swindled me. I now tell 
 you, he will serve me the same ti-ick again, should he have the 
 power to do so. All that now remains for me is, to take his 
 words in their strictly literal sense, to believe that he means 
 what he says, and to take the necessary steps to anticipate the 
 consequences. This, at all events, is the safest comse to 
 pursue. I go this moment to my attorney's oifice, and shall get 
 the fifteen guineas ; should he then forego his unfounded claim, 
 well and good. I shall then have the money in my pocket, and shall- 
 be happy to acknowledge that you know my Tutor better than I 
 do myself ; but on the other hand, should my fears be realized, 
 consider what a fix I must be in, if unprovided with means to 
 meet his demand ! In this case I could never take my degree, 
 and my prospects for life must be utterly blasted. I must, there- 
 fore, try to raise the wind in some way as soon as possible ; you 
 may expect me back to dinner, which I shall eat with the greater 
 gout, when I feel myself rescued from the fangs of this car- 
 nivorous shark." Without waiting for a reply, the Student 
 hastily rushed out of the chambers of his friend, repeating his 
 promise to return to dinner ; but here fortune seemed for once 
 propitious. The Student found, on calling at the oifice of his 
 attorney, that he had, arrived that very morning in Dublin, and 
 was then at breakfast, so he walked into the breakfast-room, sans 
 ceremonie, told him the state of his case, received the fifteen 
 guineas, and returned without a moment's delay to acquaint his 
 Reverend friend in College with the glad tidings. 
 
 The prospects of our Student now seemed to look up. 
 His Keverend friend had asked a party of gentlemen to dine 
 with him that day as a mark of respect to the romantic Student. 
 
118 THE TUTOR 
 
 The company consisted chiefly of young men, like himself, 
 about to graduate the day following. The day was one of great 
 joy and gladness. The dinner was excellent — the conversation 
 witty and animated — the guests happy, — happy in the society 
 of their fellow-students, happy at the idea of being relieved 
 on the following day from the incubus of the University. The 
 extraordinary tale of the Tutor and the Student was freely dis- 
 cussed ; and the opinions conflicting, as to whether the former 
 would urge or forego his claim on the day following to the fifteen 
 guineas. The Eeverend host maintained the negative of the 
 question ; but the majority coincided in the views of the Student ; 
 the betting was as ten to one that he (the Student) was again 
 doomed to be victimized ; but a short time decided the knotty 
 question. The Student had to call on the proctor, the Eev. Mr. 
 M — , on the morning of the Commencements, to pay his fees, 
 amounting to about £8 10a. On entering his chambers Mr. M — 
 received him with marked courtesy ; but there was a something 
 in his manner which clearly indicated to the Student that the 
 Proctor had had sonie previous communication with the Tutor 
 regarding himself personally. This was soon realized by the 
 fact, that, on tendering to the Eeverend gentleman the amount of 
 his fees, he politely said, "N — there is some little matter of 
 dispute as between your Tutor and you, which I wish you to 
 settle, for until you do so I am not at liberty to return your 
 name on the list of gentlemen about to graduate this day." The 
 Student declared that his Tutor had no pecuniary claim on him, 
 and oifered to produce all the Tutor's receipts in proof of his 
 allegation ; but these the Proctor declined to look at, adding, 
 " Your Tutor tells me that you owe him the money, and I am 
 bound by the College rules to take his word in preference 
 to yours. You must be aware that no student can take his degree 
 
AND STUDENT. 119 
 
 in this College, so long as he owes a sixpence to any one con- 
 nected with College — even to a college porter. I am only acting in 
 my official capacity, so I hope you will excuse." Such were the 
 words of Mr. M — . The Student now feeling that he had no 
 alternative left him, handed the fifteen guineas to the Proctor, 
 in addition to his own fees — then entered the Examination Hall 
 in company with his friends, knelt before the Vice-Chancellor, 
 and having sworn allegiance to the Sovereign and conformity to 
 the College statutes, he hastUy quitted the haU — doffed the 
 bear-skin — shook the dust from his feet, and wished a long 
 farewell to the Dublin University and his Keverend Tutor. 
 
120 THE TUTOR 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 If I do lose tlieo, I do lose a thing, 
 
 That none but fools would keep ; thou art a breath 
 
 (Servile to all the skiey influences) ; 
 
 That does this habitation, where thou keep'st 
 
 Hourly afflict. — Shakespeaee. 
 
 The miserable have no other medicine ; 
 But only hope. — Idem. 
 
 The Student having taken his degree, is no longer to be con- 
 sidered a Student, but a member of the University; however, we 
 still call him by his former name, t]w Student, a designation 
 that we mean to retain for consistency to the end of our tale. 
 The reader must be aware that the constant drain on the 
 Student's private purse for the last twelve months, added to 
 the repeated extortions of his Tutor, must have reduced his 
 finances to a very low ebb, and that his difiBculties were much 
 aggravated by the fact that the private circle of his friends was 
 considerably narrowed, if not wholly broken up by the well- 
 known change in his religious opinions, which so alienated the 
 feelings of the Roman Catholic without conciliating those of the 
 Protestant, that he became equally obnoxious to both. The 
 embarrassed state of his father's property was also a source 
 of the most painful anxiety, for though his father reserved 
 
AND STUDENT. 131 
 
 to himself an equity of redemption on payment of half-yearly 
 instalments, nevertheless he felt wholly unable to keep up 
 those payments, and lived in constant apprehension of 
 having the mortgage foreclosed, and seeing his property 
 brought to the hammer. Under these' circumstances the 
 Student could see but one " forlorn hope" of averting the 
 impending storm. This we shall briefly relate : in his junior 
 freshman year he had made the acquaintance of Miss McC — , 
 the daughter of a gentleman of fortune, formerly residing in 
 the county of Longford, but recently deceased. Previous to 
 the death of this gentleman, he bequeathed his property share 
 and share alike to his four daughters, the oifspring of a prior 
 marriage, whom he left under the care of a stepmother, 
 allowing £80 a year for the maintenance and education of 
 each ; however, the acting executor being an attorney, and the 
 paternal uncle of the young ladies, demurred to the annual 
 payment of £320, alleging that £200 per annum would be 
 quite adequate to the purpose ; to this the stepmother 
 objected, and placed her youthful charge under the guardian- 
 ship of the Lord Chancellor. 
 
 The consequence of this proceeding was a Chancery suit 
 by the stepmother against the executors, for the recovery of 
 her right. This suit lasted three years, when it was finally ar- 
 ranged by a compromise between the belligerent parties, tho' 
 at a considerable pecuniary sacrifice to the young ladies, who 
 were left to pay all the costs of the suit, and were thus fleeced to 
 a considerable extent by the rapacity of the attorney executor, 
 their kind-hearted uncle. At the close of this suit it was that 
 the Student was introduced to Miss McC — , the second 
 daughter, then in her twenty-second year, a young lady no ' 
 less distinguished for her personal charms than her intel- 
 
123 THE TUTOE 
 
 lectual endowments. A mutual attachment gradually grew 
 up betvfeen the Student and the young lady, which in the be- 
 ginning was countenanced by the friends on either side ; but the 
 embarrassed state of the Student's affairs having become gener- 
 ally known, he soon received a gentle hint that his addresses 
 were no longer desirable, and that his future visits would be dis- 
 pensed with. In this case the young lady herself was wholly 
 passive, the friends having taken this step without consulting 
 her feelings, or even acquainting her with the circumstance ; 
 however, the Student acquiesced in their views, and discon- 
 tinued his visits, having too much spirit to obtrude his atten- 
 tions when no longer agreeable. But a year having elapsed, 
 and the lady still continuing unmarried, vanity and self-love, 
 those prominent traits in the human character, led the Student 
 to an inference that the lady's well-known unwillingness to 
 change her condition in life was attributable to some lingering 
 regard for himself personally ; he therefore resolved to test her 
 sincerity by writing to acquaint her with his present difficulties, 
 at the same time candidly avowing the sincerity of his attach- 
 ment, and adding, that, in the event of a favourable change in his 
 circumstances, or of his obtaining a public appointment, of which 
 he then entertained some well-grounded hopes, he should be 
 happy, if mutually agreeable, to unite his destiny with hers. To 
 this letter the lady returned a favourable answer, — though her 
 friends still continued their most decided opposition to the pro- 
 jected union. The interests, prejudices, and passions, usually 
 called forth upon occasions of this nature, though of intense in- 
 terest to the parties concerned, are seldom equally so to the 
 reader; we therefore forbear to enter into particulars further 
 • than by stating that the lady manifested so decided a preference 
 for the Student, as induced her friends eventually to give way. 
 
AND STUDENT. 133 
 
 and the Student was accordingly united to the object of his 
 choice' by special license, in Eock Brook House, county West- 
 meath, on the 4th of August, 1830. 
 
 The ceremony was performed according to the rites of the 
 Roman Catholic Church, by the Rev. Mr. M — , aCatholic clergy- 
 man, the guardian and domestic chaplain to the young ladies. 
 And here let us pay a passing but sincere tribute of respect 
 to the many virtues of this benevolent and truly Christian 
 man. The Student had known him well and long as a pri- 
 vate friend and fellow-guest in Rook Brook house. On religious 
 questions he was opposed to the Reverend gentleman ; never- 
 theless a sense of truth and justice obliges us to admit that a 
 more enlightened and perfect gentleman was not to be met in 
 any society — a more Christian man in any Church ; he was an or- 
 nament to the Church to which he himself belonged — a blessing 
 to the flock over which he was appointed a pastor : in public and 
 private he was equally estimable, being universally loved and 
 respected by persons of all religious persuasions, who had the 
 happiness of being known to him. Never can we think of this 
 good man but with affection, or speak of him without the 
 sincerest respect. As to us, he always appeared an intrinse- 
 cally good man, and a model of a truly Christian minister. 
 
 The marriage ceremony being performed, the Student and 
 his wife set off for Dublin, where they remained but a few 
 days, whence they proceeded to their residence in the South 
 of Ireland. The Student's first act on returning home was to 
 pay off a part of the mortgage debt due on his father's pro- 
 perty, in consideration of which this property was limited to 
 himself personally and his heirs, subject to a jointure to his 
 wife on the death of his father, and also subject to certain 
 stipulated limitations in reference to his brothers and sisters ; 
 
124 THE TUTOE. 
 
 the Student having further agreed to hold the ground, to be- 
 come his own at his father's death, at a rack rent of £3 per acre 
 during his father's lifetime, — an exorbitant rent, considerably 
 exceeding the intrinsic value of the ground, impoverished as it 
 was by long neglect and want of proper cultivation ; however, 
 the Student resolved to put his shoulder to the wheel, and to 
 reclaim the ground, so as to make it remunerative ; but a 
 little time convinced him that this was a vain resolve, and 
 would require more capital to accomplish it than he could 
 command, particularly as he had to pay away a great portion 
 of his wife's fortune towards the liquidation of the mortgage 
 debt, and could not afford to part with more consistently with 
 the duty that he owed to himself, to his wife, and his domes- 
 tic establishment. Besides, being educated in college, where 
 he spent the greater part of his time, he felt quite unequal to 
 the management of an extensive farm, being liable to daily 
 impositions from his agricultural labourers. Under these cir- 
 cumstances he felt that his only remedy consisted in procur- 
 ing a solvent tenant for the ground, and returning to the 
 county Westmeath with his wife, who being now on the 
 eve of becoming a mother, was the more anxious for the 
 society of her sisters on that interesting occasion. The 
 Student accordingly let his ground to Mr. A. C — , a gen- 
 tleman of fortune in his immediate neighbourhood, whom his 
 father accepted as a tenant in his own room ; and having 
 resided eight months in the country, gave up farming, and 
 returned with his wife to Eock Brook House, where, afew weeks 
 after his arrival, she gave birth to a still-born child. The case 
 being one of extreme difficulty, requiring all the skill of surgery, 
 so exhausted a constitution naturally delicate, that for some time 
 but very slight hopes were entertained of the lady's recovery ; 
 
AND, STUDENT. 125 
 
 however, owing to the great kindness of friends, but more so to 
 the mercy of God, she gradually recovered health and strength, 
 to the great delight of all who knew her, but particularly 
 her devoted husband and beloved sisters. For the ensuing 
 six months the Student and his wife lived happily with 
 their friends in Eock Brook, visiting and visited by all the 
 families of distinction in. their neighbourhood, and luxuriating 
 in all the enchanting scenery of that romantic country. 
 Belvidere Lake, Lake Donore, and Lake TJle were the scenes 
 of their frequent visits ; sometimes they extended their excur- 
 sion to "Auburn," Goldsmith's "loveliest village of the plain," 
 where not only " the village preacher's modest mansion" rose, 
 and was still visible, but also to the alehouse, the Three Jolly 
 Pigeons ; and all those scenes so beautifully recorded in the 
 poet's ''Deserted Village," and in his inimitable play of 
 " She stoops to Conquer," are still pointed to by the coachman 
 with mingled feelings of pleasure and pride, as he whips his 
 team through the " deserted village." In visiting such scenes 
 as these the Student and his wife passed some happy hours, 
 which they might have continued to enjoy, had' not the deli- 
 cate state of his wife's health and her approaching accouclie- 
 rmnt required his immediate return to Dublin, for the con- 
 venience of the best medical advice. Accordingly, after the 
 lapse of a few days he was again located in a small but quiet 
 house in George's Place, Eutland Square, Dublin, where his 
 wife was safely delivered of a daughter ; however, owing to 
 the previously enfeebled state of her constitution, her eminent 
 physicians held out very slight or no hopes of her recovery. 
 For an entire month the distracted Student watched by her 
 bed-side day and night to minister to her wants, and try to 
 
126 THE TUTOR 
 
 catch some ray of hope, but, alas ! not one penetrated the 
 surrounding gloom. 
 
 At length the fatal hour arrived. Of this the dear lady seemed 
 perfectly conscious, as must appear evident from the following 
 singular incident : about half an hour before her final dissolu- 
 tion, she asked the Student to procure a pair of scissors, and 
 clip the nails of her hands and feet ; having complied with her 
 wishes in this respect, she then took the scissors into her own 
 hands, and cutting off her hair, of which she had a great profu- 
 sion, close to her head, she handed it to the Student with these 
 words : " Take this as a relic of one whom you dearly loved, 
 and who returned your love with the tenderest affection ; but 
 I have given you a dearer pledge than this — I leave you a dear 
 daughter : — be a kind parent to my child — I know you will. 
 Train her lip in the way she should go, and when she is old she 
 will not depart from it." 
 
 These were her last words ; — the Student could only answer 
 by tears and sobs, which he had no power to suppress. At 
 length the clammy forehead, the heavy breathing, the flushed 
 cheek, and the crystal drop that hung upon the eyelash, gave 
 unerring signs of immediate dissolution. For a moment the 
 dear soul seemed to struggle ; she then dropped off into a 
 gentle sleep, from which she awoke in the world of spirits. 
 This closed the saddest chapter in the Student's eventful 
 
AND STUDENT. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Some natural tears they shed, but wiped them soon : 
 
 The world was all before them, where to choose 
 
 Their place of rest, aud Providence his guide. — Paradise Lost. 
 
 The Student's present situation may be conceived, but words 
 are inadequate to express it. Deprived of the partner of his 
 tenderest affections — ^his companion in weal and woe — all his 
 former sufferings were now as nothing, being merged or forgot- 
 ten in the accumulation of his present afflictions, — afflictions 
 rendered almost insupportable by the reproaches of a self- 
 accusing conscience. 'T is true he had always acted towards 
 his wife the part of a kind husband ; — of this all her friends 
 were quite sensible ; nevertheless, he now felt realized in his 
 own case the truth of the well-known maxim, that " we never 
 know the real value of a friend until such friend be lost to us 
 for ever ; " then it is that we feel the intensity of our depriva- 
 tion, and call to mind all her redeeming traits and numerous 
 . virtues. Even our own good qualities, should we possess any, 
 are quite forgotten in such case ; should we ever have done 
 an unkind act, or given utterance to a word of annoyance to our 
 lost friend, such deeds and words are then magnified, even into 
 crimes, by our imaginations; we would give worlds, when 
 too late, to undo or unsay them, as they constantly present 
 
128 
 
 THE TUTOE 
 
 themselves like hideous phantoms to the hewildered imagina- 
 tion, to torment the mind and banish internal repose. 
 
 Such were the feelings of the Student at this critical time 
 in regard to his lost wife. He even reproached himself for 
 having ever paid his addresses to the deceased lady in the 
 embarrassed state of his father's affairs, considering that such 
 embarrassments might have brought on the illness that resulted 
 in her death ; he therefore felt himself like a criminal at the 
 bar of conscience, charged as being an accessory to the fatal 
 deed. 
 
 For some time such reflections continued " to prick and 
 sting him ;" but again, " a change came o'er the spirit of his 
 dream," and he felt that though he might have done wrong by 
 bis marriage, nevertheless, there was still room to hope ; — he 
 had still a power left him of atoning in some degree for his 
 past error by love and kindness to the only surviving pledge 
 of his affection ; — this feeling now engrossed- all his thoughts : 
 the infant became his present consolation, his future hope, 
 the only tie that bound him to life. He remembered the dying 
 words of his wife, and resolved to give full effect to her wishes 
 in regard to her beloved child. One source of consolation 
 still remained, viz., that the child had been left amply pro- 
 vided for. A few days subsequent to the Student's marriage, 
 his wife's sister changed her condition, and got married to a 
 merchant of considerable wealth; but the other two sisters 
 were so afflicted by the death of the Student's wife, that they ■ 
 resolved to retire from the world, and devote the remainder 
 of their days to the service of God. In furtherance of this 
 pious resolution, one entered a Convent, and the other became 
 a Sister of Mercy, having previously bequeathed property at 
 their death to their infant niece. The grand aunt, also a lady 
 
AND STUDENT. 129 
 
 of wealth, settled property on her grand niece to a consider- 
 able amount ; added to which the child became entitled at the 
 Student's death to the property limited to his wife and her 
 heirs under her marriage settlement ; consequently, as re- 
 garded pecuniary considerations, the child might be considered 
 wealthy; but not so the. Student. His situation at the time 
 was painfully critical ; 'tis true he was legitimate guardian to 
 his child, and as such legally entitled to any property limited 
 to her use during her minority ; therefore his first determina- 
 tion was to keep the child in his own house in Dublin, under 
 his own immediate tutelage. The aunts, on the other hand, 
 maintained that Eock Brook was the fittest residence, and 
 themselves the most suitable guardians, at least for the pre- 
 sent. Under these circumstances the case was referred to 
 the eminent attending physician of the deceased lady, who 
 advised the immediate removal of the child to the country, 
 as being most conducive to her health, and to this opinion 
 the Student yielded an unwilling assent : the child was ac- 
 cordingly removed to Rock Brook. 
 
 The Student being now left quite solitary, had to struggle 
 against appalling difficulties : the expenses attending the illness 
 and death of his wife left him in very straitened circumstances, 
 which he was precluded by feelings of delicacy from communi- 
 cating to his sisters-in-law, — the more so that they had under- 
 taken the present expenses attending the support of his child. 
 Under these circumstances he availed himself of the only 
 alternative left him by accepting a situation as law reporter upon 
 a paper about this time published in Dublin, at a small sti- 
 pend to be paid weekly ; but anything was a Godsend to the 
 Student in his then critical position ; he, therefore, not only 
 furnished the paper with reports of the most important cases 
 
 K 
 
180 THE TUTOE 
 
 in Court, but ■wrote an occasional leading article, which met 
 the approbation of the editor. However, a month having 
 elapsed without receiving any compensation for his services, 
 he at length felt obliged to apply to the editor for payment, to 
 which, however, the worthy gentleman demurred, alleging that 
 the Student was never engaged as one of the staff of the news- 
 paper ; the impression on his own mind being that he made a 
 gratuitous tender of his services, in order to have free access 
 to the columns of the newspaper for his own gratiiication and 
 improvement ; this the paltry editor must have known to be 
 false, particularly as he had been introduced to him by a 
 learned friend with the sole view of getting paid for his services. 
 However, shame at length so far operated on the feelings of 
 the party, as to induce him to tender to the Student the 
 sum of five pounds for his services ; this, however, the latter 
 accepted : and thus ended his connexion with these patrons of • 
 literature^ 
 
 The Student now felt that his only chance consisted in 
 falling back upon his literary attainments, and trying to form 
 a class of pupils at his residence in George's Place, to prepare 
 for the University or the public schools. At first, through the 
 influence of a literary friend, he got a few pupils, of no great 
 account, who paid little, read but for short periods, and then 
 gradually dropped off, leaving the Student again wholly 
 unemployed. 
 
 Under these circumstances, a kind friend, the Eev. S. S , 
 
 F.T.C., sent him a student of College, a pupil of his own, as 
 a resident pupil, to prepare for his quarterly examination. This 
 young geptleman had been "plucked," or rather cautioned, ac- 
 cording to the technical phraseology of the Dublin University, 
 at the previous examination ; and therefore, in venturing to 
 
AND STUDENT. 131 
 
 prepare him for the succeeding one the Student assumed an 
 arduous duty, rendered more onerous by the fact that the 
 pupil was a young man of idle and dissipated habits, though 
 ungifted with any natural abilities to compensate for such de- 
 praved propensities ; these were sad drawbacks : but difficult 
 though the case evidently was, the Student resolved to try the 
 experiment, being assured that should he succeed in getting 
 his pupil respectably through his examination, he would thereby 
 secure the friendship of the young man's father- — a Eectorof the 
 Established Church, resident in the north of Ireland — whose 
 solicitude for the moral and literary improvement of his son 
 was the greater, that he intended him for the ministry. In the 
 face of these difficulties, the Student undertook the task, and 
 received this young man into his house as a pupil. His esta- 
 blishment at the time was a very limited one, consisting but of 
 three individuals — himself, his pupil, and one domestic servant 
 of all- work; but being resolved to unite study to domestic eco- 
 nomy, his first act was to fit up a bed for his pupil in the same 
 room with himself, by which he hoped to effect a double obj ect,— 
 first, to have the pupil constantly under his own eye, so as to 
 regulate his hours of retiring to rest at night, and rising in the 
 morning — a rule that he rigorously enforced, convinced from 
 experience that without early rising there can be no improve- 
 ment, either physical or intellectual ; the second object was, 
 that it enabled him to give effect to another rule that he laid 
 down for himself, viz., to refresh the memory of his pupil 
 every night before going to rest, by questioning him on, the 
 business of the past day ; this he found to be a most useful plan 
 towards reviving fading ideas, and fixing them more deeply in 
 the mind of his pupil. By closely adhering to this system, he 
 managed to take his pupil through a great portion of his 
 
 k2 
 
132 THE TUTOR 
 
 quarterly examination in the brief space of one month; but 
 here a sad event occurred, that proved a no small drawback 
 to the progress of his pupil, and served to cast a deep and 
 lasting gloom over the future of the Student. 
 
 This ill-fated individual received a letter from his sister-in- 
 law in the country announcing the death of his child. Had 
 this event been sudden or unexpected, the shock to the 
 Student's feelings would exceed all powers of endurance ; but 
 the accounts that he had received for some time as to the state 
 of the child's health, convinced him that her case was hopeless, 
 and fully prepared him for the sad intelligence, which he en- 
 deavoured to bear with the firmness of a man and the resigna- 
 tion of a Christian ; however, it now appeared evident that the 
 removal of the child from a warm house in Dublin, to a large 
 mansion in the country in the depth of winter, was a fatal mis- 
 take, and that the physician who advised it, however eminent 
 in his profession, must possess but a very limited knowledge 
 of the physical constitution of infants : the Student at the 
 time pointed out the dangerous consequences of the removal, 
 but the doctor overruled his objections, and his own opinions 
 prevailed ; however, the result proved that the Student was 
 right, and the doctor wrong. 
 
 The child's natural tendency to consumption should have 
 convinced an eminent medical practitioner that exposure to 
 the damp air of the country in the month of February must 
 have the effect of increasing the child's illness, and that the 
 biting frosts and piercing March winds were no less danger- 
 ous to the delicate and tender frame of an infant child. This 
 was evident from the result : the child struggled through the 
 month of March, then drooped like a delicate flower, and 
 quitted a troubled world in the first week of April, to join her 
 
AND STUDENT. 133 
 
 sainted mother in the mansions of everlasting rest. To the 
 infant seraph we may truly address the following stanza : — 
 
 " Happy infant, early blest, 
 Eest, in peaceful dumber rest ; 
 Early reecued from tlie cares 
 Which increase with growing years, 
 No delights are worth thy stay, 
 Smiling as they seem, and gay ; 
 Short and sickly are they all. 
 Hardly tasted ere they fall." 
 
 On the death of his beloved child the property limited to 
 her use by the mother's friends reverted to the original do- 
 nors, and the Student took nothing; — but this he recked not. 
 Having lost his wife and child he no longer valued their money : 
 — the loss of the former was indelibly engraved on his heart ; 
 to the latter he was wholly indifferent. The poet has justly 
 observed, that— 
 
 " Man wants but little here below, 
 Nor wants that little long." 
 
 For this little the Student was now resolved to work like 
 one of the sons of, Adam, by the sweat of his own brow, and 
 to seek no other reward in his short journey through human 
 life, than the bright ray that springs from the pure source of 
 a self-approving conscience. On receiving an account of the 
 death of his child he found it necessary to set off without 
 delay for the county Westmeath, to pay a last sad tribute of 
 respect to the deceased child of her whom he so dearly loved ; 
 but his chief difficulty now arose from the circumstances of 
 his pupil, in whom he lost all confidence, from the knowledge 
 of his vicious propensities, and therefore feared the consequence 
 of leaving him alone for one week in such a place as Dublin ; 
 
134 THE TUTOE 
 
 but feeling he had no other alternative, he thought his best 
 policy consisted in professing confidence, though he did not 
 feel it, and candidly to acquaint the pupil with the cir- 
 cumstances of Ms case ; he therefore told him the pressing 
 necessity that urged him to leave town for a week, and 
 of committing him to the care of a faithful servant, who 
 would pay him every attention, and furnish all things 
 necessary until the Student's return. He then appealed to 
 his sense of moral duty as a Christian and a gentleman, not to 
 take an ungenerous advantage of the circumstances of his case 
 by neglecting his studies in his absence, or mixing with his 
 former dissipated associates. The pupil expressed deep sym- 
 pathy for the affictions of the Student, promising religiously 
 to obey any rules laid down for him in his absence ; the 
 latter assured him that in the event of his doing so he would 
 be most happy to make a favourable report of him to his father 
 on his return to town. 
 
 Thus a covenant of mutual confidence was entered into 
 between the Student and his pupil, to which both agreed 
 strictly to adhere ; but, alas ! the promises of the depraved 
 however solemn, are seldom carried into effect ; even when 
 made bond fide they have no firmness of purpose, no moral 
 controling power to fulfil their engagements, or to resist the 
 allurements of those depraved appetites and passions by which 
 they suffer themselves to be wholly governed and enslaved ;— 
 of this the conduct of the pupil in the present case furnished 
 a painful illustration. The Student having made the 
 necessary arrangements for his accommodation during his 
 own absence in the country, committed him to the care of 
 Providence, and set off for the county Westmeath, where he 
 passed a serious and retired week in the society of his rela- 
 
AND STUDENT. 135 
 
 tives, — 'twas a season full of sad trouble and bitter recollec- 
 tions to the Student and his friends, — former sorrows were 
 revived, and domestic wounds being opened bled afresh; — his 
 sisters-in-law wished him to prolong his visit, — a request with 
 which he felt much inclined to comply, but having formed an 
 engagement in Dublin, he sacrificed inclination to duty, and 
 having assisted in consigning his child to kindred dust, took 
 leave of his friends, promising soon to revisit them, and 
 quickly left for Dublin, where he arrived in the afternoon of 
 the seventh day after his departure. On entering his house, his 
 first inquiry referred to his pupil, and as to how he conducted 
 himself in his absence ; but without hearing the answer of 
 his servant, he could easily infer from her serious looks and 
 hesitating manner that all was wrong — that the pupil broke 
 his solemn word of honor, and violated the confidence reposed 
 in him. The Student ordered the servant to tell the whole 
 truth, particularly whether the gentleman had kept late hours 
 in his absence, to which she answered in the affirmative ; 
 adding that he was constantly surrounded by his dissipated 
 companions since the Student left town ; — ^here the pupil en- 
 tered the room like a criminal. His confused and embarrassed 
 manner afforded the clearest evidence of his guilt; however, the 
 Student made no direct charge against him, but having briefly 
 responded to his complimentary " welcome home — hope you're 
 well," ordered him into the study, telling the servant that the 
 pupil was not to be seen by any one that might call that after- 
 noon. He then commenced his examination of the young gen- 
 tleman in the portions of work that he had marked out for him 
 on leaving town, and found him unable to answer a question, — 
 all which proved that he did not open a book in his absence : 
 not only this, but he quite forgot the answers to many important 
 
136 THE TUTOE 
 
 questions which the Student had previously taken no small 
 pains to impress upon his mind. Then it was that the Student 
 coolly but bitterly upbraided him with breach of confidence 
 and wilful falsehood, at the same time telling him that should 
 he ever repeat the offence, that very instant he must cease to 
 be his pupil. The young gentleman attempted no vindication 
 of his conduct, — ^it was too glaring to admit of any ; — on the 
 contrary, he seemed all repentance, — ready to repeat his 
 former promises of amendment and reformation. To this 
 the Student paid no attention ; he had no longer any confidence 
 in the pupil ; — ^this he candidly told him, coolly adding, that 
 one great evil attending falsehood was, that " the liar was not 
 believed, even when he spoke the truth." The pupil evidently 
 felt the Sting of this reproach, but continued silent; this, 
 however, closed the conversation on this subject for the present 
 between the Student and pupil, after which the former took 
 his pupil for a short walk into the country, returning home to 
 dinner about six o'clock. Dinner being ended, the pupil said, 
 " I have now to solicit the favour of your permission to take 
 tea with a friend in town this evening; this invitation I 
 got two days ago, and promised with your leave to accept it ; 
 should you kindly comply with this request, I promise not to 
 repeat it until after my examination." The Student felt such 
 distrust in the veracity of the pupil, that his first determina- 
 tion was to refuse his consent ; however, fearing lest the 
 effect of his non-compliance with a request so seemingly 
 reasonable might be to afford the pupil a pretext for disobe- 
 dience, and tempt him to take French leave, he replied, " Well, 
 suppose I consent to your going out to tea, at what hour do 
 you mean to return ?" " Any hour you may please to name." 
 " Oh ! you are maiTellously obedient. I shall then take you 
 
AND STUDENT. 137 
 
 on your own word, and name nine ; will this hour suit you ?" 
 The pupil acquiesced. " Well, then, I give you until half- 
 past eleven; hut mark me, you must he punctual, and not make 
 it a moment later than the hour I name, if you value me as 
 a tutor and a host." The pupil seemed grateful for the in- 
 dulgence, promised to keep his word, and having completed 
 his toilette with all despatch, quickly disappeared. 
 
 It was then that the Student for the first time heard from 
 the servant the full particulars of his conduct during his own 
 absence in the country ; and so shocked and disgusted was he 
 with the detail as to feel convinced that the pupU's case was 
 hopeless, and that he had no alternative but to dismiss him 
 from his house as soon as possible, which he determined to 
 do the following day. 
 
 'Twas now half-past eleven o'clock, the time appointed for 
 the pupil's return, but the gentleman was not forthcoming. 
 At this the Student felt no surprise — considering the report 
 that he heard, it was no more than he expected. He accord- 
 ingly sent the servant to bed, telling her he should ring for 
 her on the return of the pupil. He then paced his room with 
 no small anxiety until four o'clock the following morning, 
 when a gentle knock at the front-door announced the gentle- 
 man's return. The servant, who had waited up all night, 
 instantly opened the door and conducted him to the Student's 
 bedroom, who was still up, and addressed him on coming in 
 with great self-control, telling him that " he must instantly 
 provide another residence for himself ; that he did not keep a 
 night house for the accommodation of gay young men, and 
 would not suffer him to convert his house into one ; conse- 
 quently that he must quit that very instant, and might send 
 for his luggage in the course of the day," adding that, "he 
 
138 THE TUTOE 
 
 would write to his father by the first post a full account of all 
 particulars, which, in self-justification, he felt himself in duty 
 hound to do." 
 
 He then ordered the servant to show the gentleman out ; but 
 observing him to grow deadly pale, and to be evidently ill, he 
 postponed his determination, and sent to fetch a doctor, but 
 ere the messenger returned the pupil was seized with an 
 alarming attack of English cholera ; and in the absence of the 
 servant the duty of nurse-tender devolved upon the Student 
 himself. At length the servant returned, accompanied by the 
 doctor, who,, on examining the patient, pronounced his illness 
 to be no way dangerous, but merely the effects of intemperance 
 and excess, which required but a simple composing draught, 
 which he administered, ordering him to he kept quiet for a few 
 hours, that he would be soon to-rights again. The doctor's 
 orders were strictly obeyed, and the pupil being relieved by 
 the draught, soon dropped off into a sound sleep, from which 
 he awoke in a few hours, perfectly recovered ; he then asked if 
 he might have some coffee and toast, which being brought to 
 him, he ate a hearty breakfast, after which he quickly dressed 
 himself, and asked the servant if he could see her master. 
 The Student at first declined the interview, considering that 
 no good could result from it ; but the request being repeated, 
 he changed his previous resolution, and told him he might 
 come in. On entering the room, the pupil extended his hand 
 to the Student, saying, " I know and feel that I am a disrepu- 
 table and degraded character ; but ere I quit your house, I 
 think it my duty to thank you for all your kindness and atten- 
 tion to so unworthy a person as myself. I have now but one 
 favour to ask of you, viz., to give me one trial more : grant 
 me this request, and you will never have cause to regret it, or 
 
AND STUDENT. 139 
 
 to charge me with again breaking my word ; but under any 
 circumstances, I am sure you are too kind to write to my poor 
 father about me ; he is not in good health, and it would add 
 greatly to his illness and unhappiness, as well as to that of my 
 mother and family, should they hear of the rig that I am run- 
 ning in Dublin ; but if you give me one more chance of re- 
 trieving my character, this is all I ask." 
 
 The Student was not the man to turn a deaf ear to an 
 appeal which seemed dictated by sincerity; the pupil was 
 again freely forgiven on his own terms, viz., that he should 
 confine himself exclusively to his studies for the ensuing 
 fortnight, and cut all his loose companions. The preliminaries 
 being thus arranged, the pupil resumed his studies, which he 
 prosecuted with such assiduity both day and night for a 
 fortnight, that he passed his examination with great credit, 
 or, to use his own words, " he came off with flying colours,'' 
 an unexpected result, so flattering and gratifying to his father, 
 that he gave the Student a most pressing invitation to pass 
 the ensuing vacation at his Eeotory in the county of Donegal. 
 " Here," observed the Keverend gentleman, " we lead a sober 
 and secluded life ; our circumstances are limited, and our circle 
 equally so ; the only inducements we can offer you are good 
 fish, good bathing, pure air, and a hearty welcome. Should 
 you think these advantages deserving of your consideration, they 
 are quite at your service.'' 
 
 The Student's mind had been for some time so weighed 
 down with worldly troubles and domestic afflictions, that his 
 constitution, though naturally robust, was evidently giving way; 
 and the doctor advised change of air and scene as the only 
 remedy for his complaint. To this the Student replied that 
 if his complaint were mental, change of scene, according to 
 
140 THE TUTOR 
 
 the opinion of the poet, could be of no avail, " Coekim non annum 
 mutant qui trans mare currunt," was a well known maxim. 
 However, as the doctor was of a contrary opinion, and that 
 the Student inclined to the superior practical wisdom of 
 his views, he gratefully accepted the invitation of his Re- 
 verend friend so frankly tendered, and set off for the Rectory, 
 county Donegal, at nine o'clock, a.m., the first week in August, 
 by a stage coach, which brought him to his destination on the 
 evening of the same day, just as the Rector and his family 
 were in the act of sitting down to dinner. Their reception of 
 the Student was most cordial and flattering ; but ere we sketch 
 the Reverend gentleman and the family at the Rectory, it may 
 be advisable to give some account of the physical and de- 
 moralized state of this part of the county of Donegal at the 
 period of which we write, and of the causes that naturally led 
 to this deplorable state of things, a subject to which we pur- 
 pose to devote the following chapter. 
 
AND STUDENT. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Wheee rose the moimtam, these to him were friends, 
 Where roared the Ocean, therein was his home. — TSirots. 
 
 The Student is now safely located at M — Eectory, county 
 Donegal, the residence of his Eeverend friend ; but ere we des- 
 cribe the Eectory and its happy inmates, the reader may pardon 
 a short digression, whilst we briefly glance at the moral and 
 physical condition of the particular district of Donegal visited 
 by the Student, at the period to which we refer. Donegal Bay, 
 as the reader may see by reference to the map of Ireland, washes 
 a part of the north-western coast of Ireland, and is an arm of 
 the Atlantic Ocean, about four miles in diameter, bounded 
 on the north and south by steep and precipitous mountains ; 
 Slieve Alt, to the rear of the Rectory, being considered one 
 of the highest mountains in the north of Ireland. Here we 
 may mention, en passant, that there is a singular lake, called 
 Lake Salt, within three miles of the Rectory, about three 
 quarters of a mile in length, and not more than 150 yards in 
 diameter. This lake seems to undulate Like the sea, though it 
 neither ebbs nor flows, and is enclosed on the south and east 
 by two hills more than 150 feet high, nearly perpendicular 
 and running parallel with the entire, length of the lake. 
 Some derive the name of the lake from the salt flavor 
 
143 THE TCTOB 
 
 of its waters, but the Student having tasted them did not 
 find such to be the case, the water not differing, in his 
 opinion, from river water. The lake, however, is well de^ 
 serving the notice of the curious traveller, and is the direct 
 line of communication for horse and foot passengers (not for 
 carriages) between the Eectory and the public road, by a broad 
 pathway that runs along the border of the lake, until it meets 
 the main road. 
 
 The beach, washed by the waves of the Atlantic, is about 
 three miles in length, and the accumulating sands, drifted' by 
 the high winds and constant influx of the tide, had risen to 
 such a height as to form clusters of hills in many places 
 along the strand, which afforded a scanty pasture to goats, 
 sheep, and sometimes to cows. The general appearance of 
 the country seemed barren, and wholly destitute of plantations 
 or any sort of improvement ; nevertheless the ground in many 
 places produces good crops of oats and barley. 
 
 A great majority of the population in the North of Ireland 
 are Protestant, the proportion of Protestant to Catholic being 
 in the ratio of six to one ; but as regarded moral and religious 
 improvement, the Protestant Church at this time did not seem 
 to possess any decided superiority ; the people in general, with 
 few exceptions, whether Protestant or Catholic, seemed alike 
 sunk in the darkest ignorance and the grossest superstition. 
 The causes that led to this almost general demoralization of 
 the peasantry of the country were many. We shall recount 
 only a few of the most prominent sources of evil. 
 
 The country, as before observed, produced good crops of oats 
 and barley ; but these crops were cultivated, not for market 
 overt, but with a view of converting them into what was called 
 " potteen whisky." Should the smuggler be successful in 
 
AND STUDENT. 143 
 
 disposing of the produce of his farm, thus converted — a contin- 
 gency which sometimes, though very rarely, occurred — he was 
 sure to realize a profit infinitely heyond what such crops would 
 fetch in the public market ; but success in such cases was an 
 event of such rare occurrence, that the instances of it were 
 " few and far between ;" failures were, on the other hand, all but 
 universal, and ruinous to the speculators in this contraband 
 trade ; nevertheless, so great was the mania of the people for 
 this illicit traffic, that we have heard of cases where the pro- 
 duce of a farm had been seized by the ganger four consecutive 
 years, notwithstanding which the adventuresome smuggler tried 
 it on a fifth time, when he succeeded in baffling the ganger, 
 and disposing of the produce of his farm converted into 
 whisky ; but the ganger was generally successful in seizing in 
 the stills, either by his own vigilance, or by keeping up a 
 bribed corps of spies and informers, who first managed to in- 
 gratiate themselves into the confidence of the smugglers, and 
 afterwards sold them ; but even the gentry of the country, not 
 excepting the magistrates, were not wholly free from the con- 
 taminating influence of the "mountain dew." We have heard 
 of many instances where casks of " Queen's own" were pre- 
 sented to and received by these individuals, and we believe 
 the cases to be few where the proffered gift was refused :* 
 it cannot be denied that the necessary consequence of this 
 
 » It is even said that when George IV. visited Ireland, in the year 
 1821, he accepted a present of a cask of " potteen whisky," to the pecu- 
 liar flavor of which he seems to have been no stranger, — if it be true, as 
 reported, that on tasting the beverage, he remarked to one of his courtiers, 
 " This is real Queen's." We carmot vouch for the authenticity of this 
 story, but that his Majesty was not a teetotaller admits, we believe, of no 
 doubt. 
 
144 THE TUTOR 
 
 State of things was drunkenness, perjury, and profligacy. TKIs 
 we consider the primary cause of the universal ignorance and 
 demoralization of the people at the period referred to. 
 
 We may mention another prolific source of crime, not un- 
 frequently resulting in murder — we refer to the perpetual 
 strife between the gentry and the peasantry, owing to the ex- 
 clusive right of fishing claimed by the former vdthin parti- 
 cular arms of the bay, defined by buoys upon the water ; 
 those who had the audacity to transgress the prescribed ima- 
 ginary line, had often to pay the .penalty by having their nets 
 seized, torn to atoms, and cast into the sea; and in the event 
 of the fish poachers offering any resistance, bloodshed and 
 homicide were sure to follow as a necessary consequence ; no 
 marvel, then, that demoralization and crime — the latter being 
 a necessary consequence of the former — should be widely 
 extended along the coast of Donegal at the time. That these 
 evils have resulted from the sources to which we have traced 
 them, no intelligent or impartial man can attempt to deny. 
 
 Having thus given to the reader a general account of the 
 causes that led to the demoralized condition of the inhabi- 
 tants of Donegal twenty-two years ago, we now propose to 
 give a short sketch, — first of the Rectory of M — ; secondly, 
 of the Reverend occupant and his family ; and in reference 
 to the former it may be truly observed, that its unosten- 
 tatious structure may be taken as a reflex of the eco- 
 nomical character of the Reverend incumbent. It was but 
 one story high, with, however, a single flight of stairs, that 
 led to two comfortable back bedrooms, and was built upon 
 a hill at the foot of the lofty mountain SUeve Alt, before 
 named, — overlooking the Bay of Donegal. The house was 
 but of small dimensions, consisting of a parlour, about twenty 
 
AND STUDENT. 145 
 
 feet square, and half a dozen bedrooms, exclusive of the two 
 up-stair rooms before referred to. It presented a front to the 
 bay ; and the high spring tides sometimes rose to within fifty 
 yards of the hall-door. Connected with the house was an 
 office, where the Eector, who was a magistrate of the county, 
 dispensed justice solo, before the institution of thepetii/ sessions; 
 and in a right line with the house, though nearer to the sea, 
 was a good kitchen garden, well supplied with all manner of 
 vegetables, and intersected with neat gravelled walks. From 
 the relative position of the house and garden, as the latter 
 sloped down towards the sea, persons might be seen walking in 
 the garden from the parlour windows. The house, as may be 
 supposed, was not very expensively furnished ; nevertheless, 
 the furniture, though plain, was good and substantial, being 
 kept in excellent order, chiefly owing to the regular and 
 industrious habits of the parson's wife, a lady about fifty years 
 of age, who seemed well versed in domestic economy, and 
 limited her whole care to the comforts of her own fireside, 
 seldom receiving or returning the ceremonious visits of her 
 neighbours, which she felt would be inconsistent with her 
 limited circumstances, and interfere with the prior duty that 
 she owed to her own domestic establishment. She was a 
 kind-hearted, good-natured woman, whose whole thoughts 
 seemed engrossed and absorbed in attending to the comforts 
 of her husband and family, in whose company she usually 
 walked to church every dry Sunday, a distance of a mile and 
 a half from the Eectory ; but in wet weather she read her Bible 
 at home. In her person she was tall, plain, and homely ; her 
 age was about fifty, as before stated. The Hector was a man 
 about the same age with his wife, not possessed of very shining 
 talents, or much book learning ; but the absence of these high 
 
 I. 
 
146 
 
 THE TOTOB 
 
 qualities was amply competiBated for by sound common sense 
 and natural kindness of heart ; — he was a fond husband, an 
 aifectionate father, and a sincere friend, admired and respected 
 by all for the soUdity of his judgment ajid the amiability of 
 his character ; but when surrounded by his own family circle, 
 then it was that his social qualities fully developed themselves. 
 He possessed an inexhaustible fund of anecdote, which he had 
 the happiest mode of communicating to his friends ; and his 
 natural good humour was so genuine that it was often received 
 as a substitute for want of learning and the lack of wit. His 
 musical talents also were far from conteinptible ; — he played 
 on the flute with so much taste and pathos, that many pre- 
 ferred his notes to those of scientific players. But the kind- 
 hearted Eector had his weak points — who has not? In 
 religion he was a bigot ; — in politics a high tory of the old 
 schpol. In his convivial moments the party tunes of " Croppies, 
 lie down," " the Protestant Boys," and the " Boyne water" 
 usually kindled in his mind an extasy of delight, and no after- 
 dinner toast could atone for the omission of the old conven- 
 tional one of the " glorious, pious, and immortal memory." 
 
 With such principles and prepossessions, it cannot be matter 
 of surprise that the Eector did not hold frequent intercourse 
 with his Koman Catholic parishioners, clergy or laity; yet, 
 though naturally averse to the Catholic creed, to his credit it 
 must be admitted that in his magisterial capacity he never 
 suffered prejudice to warp his judgment or party feeling to 
 counteract the impartiality of his decisions; even when annoyed 
 or calumniated by his Roman Catholic neighbours, he chose 
 rather to forgiVe than retaliate. Of this we shall give but one 
 instance, though in a position to produce many. Owing to some 
 political difference, the parish priest and the rector had not 
 
AND STDDENT. 147 
 
 been for some time on speaking terms ; during this suspension 
 of friendly intercourse, the priest imposed a particular penance 
 on one of his flock, viz., that he should perform certain rounds 
 at stated periods at a holy well, which being some distance 
 from the poor sinner's residence,' he neglected to perform. 
 The Sunday next succeeding the imposition of the penance, 
 the priest saw the man at chapel, kneeling, as is frequently 
 the case, outside the chapel door, in accordance with a super- 
 stitious persuasion, that a man obtained the full benefit of 
 the mass, provided he knelt down in sight of his church 
 during the performance of divine service, and S, fortiori, when 
 kneeling immediately outside the chapel door : in this attitude 
 was the penitent when the priest, coming up, demanded if 
 he had performed his rounds, to which the man answered in 
 the negative, whereupon this meek minister of the Gospel 
 dealt the unfortunate individual so severe a blow with the end 
 of his whip across the temples, that the blood gushed out in 
 torrents, and the man had instantly to be conveyed to a sur- 
 geon to dress his wound. The following morning, whilst 
 smarting with pain, the assaulted man went direct to the Rec- 
 tory, to apply for a summons against the priest. The magi- 
 strate, having heard his story, refused to grant him the summons, 
 but thus addressed him : " You come to me for a summons 
 against your priest, now you still feel the smart of your 
 wound ; but as soon as your head gets well, you will repent the 
 steps you had taken, and not follow them up ; besides, you know 
 that your priest and. I are not on the best terms, and should I 
 now comply with your request, such an act on my part would be 
 imputed to vindictive feelings rather than to a sense of strict 
 and impartial justice. I must therefore decline your appKca- 
 tion, at least for the present ; but if you come to me again 
 
 l3 
 
148 THE TUTOR 
 
 when your head is well, and that you are then of your present 
 way of thinking, I shall receive your information, and grant 
 you all the redress to which you are entitled. All I can do at 
 present is to give you a letter to your priest, expressive of my 
 opinion as to his cruel and unchristian conduct." 
 
 The kind-hearted parson accordingly wrote the proposed 
 letter, which he handed to the man to deliver to his priest ; 
 whereupon the complainant departed. But the Rector did not 
 see him again. This story redounds as much to the honor of 
 the Christian parson, as to the disgrace of the violent and ar- 
 bitrary priest. Having thus spoken of the Rector, and his im- 
 partiality as a magistrate, it now remains for us to say a few 
 words as to his zeal in the discharge of his clerical duties, in 
 which capacity we find him but one of a numerous class, who 
 fancy they do quite enough for the interests of religion by 
 attending church every Sunday, and reading, not preaching, 
 perhaps, a printed sermon for the benefit of their hearers ; 
 in fact, the worthy Rector may be compared not inaptly to 
 the Chaplain of Sir Roger De Coverley. He seldom, if ever, 
 took the trouble to write his own sermon, but generally 
 borrowed from Bishop Burnett, Paley, or some other eminent 
 divine, whose compositions he considered more capable of im- 
 parting Scriptural knowledge and spiritual edification to his 
 hearers than anything he could preach out of his own head. 
 The sermon being ended, the Rector and his family returned 
 from church, and his congregation did not see him again until 
 the following Sunday ; the intermediate time of the Reverend 
 gentleman was chiefly engrossed by his magisterial and secular 
 duties, and his flock were left to wander about like sheep 
 without a shepherd ; whilst his wife, being wholly engaged 
 in the management of her domestic concerns, could spare little 
 
AND STUDENT. 149 
 
 time for attendance at Sunday-schools, or imparting Scrip- 
 tural knowledge to the poor children of the parish. As to his 
 sons they were only intent on the sports of the field, and 
 passed their time in following their favorite amusements — to 
 them the suhject of religion seemed quite a secondary considera- 
 tion, and so long as they could shoot a few brace of partridges or 
 grouse in the season, to send as a present to the bishop of the 
 diocese, they considered they had done their own part, and that 
 such little favors might serve as a memento to refresh the mind 
 of the bishop, in the event of his Lordship having got a vacant 
 benefice or any lucrative windfal at his disposal ; whether such 
 trifles could have any effect in influencing his Lordship in the 
 dispensation of his patronage, we cannot take upon ourselves to 
 say ; but human life is made up of trifles, and we may daily 
 see important results arising from the most trivial causes ; 
 but whatever may have been the conduct of the Eector's son, 
 the Eeverend gentleman himself was an intrinsically good 
 man, who wished well to the interests of religion in general, 
 and to the Church Establishment in particular; and had 
 his means corresponded to his inclinations, he would make 
 sacrifices of time and money to promote the interests of 
 both ; but his domestic establishment being large — consisting 
 of a wife, two sons, and three daughters — and the income 
 of his rectory not exceeding £350 per annum, the pressing 
 exigencies of his family left him neither time nor means to 
 give effect to his religious intentions. This was his apology : 
 These muling things called " wives and wains would move the 
 very heart o' stanes.'' The Student had already passed five 
 weeks at the Eectory, conforming in all respects to the rules of 
 his kind and hospitable host; he felt his general health some-- 
 what benefited by sea-bathing and sea air ; but his spirits were 
 
150 THE TUTOR 
 
 not much improved, Snd his thoughts would often revert, in spite 
 of all his efforts to prevent it^ to sorrows past — a retrospect 
 well calculated to give a melancholy tinge to his ideas, and to 
 fill his mind with the most gloomy visions ; — ^this state of 
 feeling rendered him unfit for any society, and frequently in- 
 duced him to shun it. He would often walk alone for whole 
 hours together along the sea-coast, gazing on the magnificent 
 Atlantic, and wondering at the daring genius of the immortal 
 man who first ventured " in a frail bark" to cross that mighty 
 ocean, and to explore a new world beyond its incomprehensible 
 limits. At another time he would take his seat on the summit 
 of a lofty cliff, watching the heaving billows, and listening to 
 their echoes as they " lashed the sounding shore." All this 
 filled his mind with wonder and admiration ; but what excited 
 his liveliest interest was, to observe the sea-tossed bark, as she 
 neared the shore, shattered by a long voyage, and mating 
 signals of distress. On such occasions, not unfrequent in the 
 Bay of Donegal, the dauntless intrepidity with which the 
 fisherman in his little craft ventured to the rescue of his 
 perishing fellow-man at the imminent peril of his own life, 
 excited in his mind the utmost wonder and admiration. 
 
 Gazing on scenes like this, time fled insensibly by, and 
 the Student was often an hour too late for dinner ; never- 
 theless, when he did return, the kind-hearted Eector always 
 gave him a hearty welcome, though the ladies, who often 
 delayed dinner, contrary to the wishes of the Student, were 
 not quite so complaisant ; but the cause of the delay being 
 explained, his apology was received by all, at least with 
 apparent, if not real satisfaction. But the truth is, the society 
 at the Rectory was no longer agreeable to the Student ; the 
 conversation there had nothing calculated to elevate the mind 
 
AND STUDENT. l51 
 
 or Strike the imagination; he, therefore, preferred to hold 
 communioii; with the wonders of Creation, and in exploriag 
 the heetvenly volume, to seek that pleasure and improvement 
 that the society of the Rectory was no longer capable of im- 
 parting. 
 
 His ima^-nation had beenfor some time brooding overthepast, 
 and the thoughts of years gone byagain rushed into his mind like 
 a flood, depriving him of all power to resist their overwhelming 
 force. The kind-hearted Rector, who was a close observer 
 of the human character, saw with unfeigned regret the manifest 
 change in the manner of his guest ; but he had still six weeks 
 to pass at the Rectory, and his host was resolved that this time 
 should pass as agreeably as he himself and his family were 
 capable of making it. Pursuant to this resolution the Rector 
 himself and his family frequently accompanied the Student in 
 his exoursions-^took him to see all jilaces of any interest along' 
 the coast, particularly the caves and grottoes^— scenes of exceeding 
 interest. In some places several caves were found to run parallel 
 a distance of several hundred yards, at the extremities of which 
 private doors of communication were found, evidently the work 
 of human hands ; the roofs of these caves were curiously 
 vaulted, and in several parts of the interior stone benches 
 were to be seen, from which a reasonable inference may be 
 drawn, that in the olden times these caves had afforded an 
 occasional asylum, not only to the hermit and recluse, but also 
 to the lawless chieftain and his predatory band. The marvel- 
 lous legends related of these caves and their mysterious inha- 
 bitants may furnish abundant materials for an interesting 
 romance or a fairy tale, but would be inconsistent with a work 
 which purports to relate matters of fact, such as have come 
 under the immediate observation of the writer : suffice it to 
 
152 THE TUTOR 
 
 say that these caves were among the places of interest through 
 which the Eeverend Eector frequently conducted his guest — and 
 that he and his family left nothing undone to reconcile him to 
 his affictions, and contribute to his health and happiness; and 
 though these acts of kindness did not produce the desired 
 effect, owing to the diseased state of the Student's mind, 
 nevertheless he could not help feeling a deep debt of gratitude 
 to the friends who gave such practical proofs of their kindness, 
 and patiently submitted to eccentricities on the part of the 
 Student,which must have often considerably interferedwith their 
 domestic arrangements and personal comforts. The Student 
 was neither ungrateful nor insensible to such acts, and resolved 
 to repay them in the only way at present in his power ; — by 
 devoting an hour daily to the tuition of the Rector's son, whom 
 he had taken through the previous June examination, and who 
 was now reading up for October. The former conduct of this 
 young man must be fresh in the recollection of the reader, — ^but 
 out of respect to the feelings of the father, the Student never 
 acquainted him with his immorality, and lent him a helping 
 hand on the present occasion entirely out of gratitude to the 
 Reverend gentleman, whose kindness to the Student was such 
 that he could not think of accepting any remuneration for his 
 services ; in short, a real friendship now began to grow up 
 between the Eector and the Student, to such an extent that the 
 Reverend gentleman communicated confidentially to his 
 friend all his private circumstances, and consulted him in all 
 matters where the interest of his family was involved. The 
 Student now accompanied the Reverend gentleman to church 
 regularly on Sundays — ^frequently read the Bible for the family 
 at the request of the Rector, occasionally digressing to expound 
 the meaning of the text, and availing himself of every 
 
AND STUDENT. 153 
 
 favourable opportunity to expatiate on what he considered the 
 duty of a Christian clergyman, and the awful responsibility 
 incurred by him on entering upon holy orders: the family 
 listened with attention, and the Kector bore repeated testimony 
 to the orthodoxy of the Student's theological opinions and the 
 soundness of his religious principles ; but the time for parting 
 began at length to draw near ; — this the Eector and his family 
 seemed much to regret : the former had formed a sincere 
 friendship for his visitor, and frequently said, " We never know 
 the value of a friend till we lose him ; but I trust I am an 
 exception to the general rule, as I can now duly appreciate 
 yours, and never can look back but with feelings of pleasure 
 to the scenes of the last two months." 
 
 The Reverend gentleman's heart seemed to expand, 
 and a tear of pleasure to glisten in his eyes, as he uttered 
 these words. The Student was no less affected; he felt 
 himself whoUy unworthy of so much confidence, — ^that he had 
 done nothing to deserve it, at least in his own opinion, and con- 
 sidered himself but an unprofitable servant. A few evenings 
 subsequent to this conversation a confidential communication took 
 place between the Eector and the Student, to the follovring effect: 
 the Eeverend gentleman and his friend were sitting together 
 after dinner, the family having gone for a long walk, when the 
 following dialogue took place between them : — 
 
 " Tou,'' observed the Eeverend gentleman, " are my kind 
 friend, and the friend of my family ; — you have proved it more by , 
 deed than words. I, therefore, feel convinced you wiU candidly 
 answer me two questions that I am about to propose to you. 
 They refer to my son. Eirst, do you think he possesses 
 sufficient ability to be a useful preacher of the Gospel? Secondly, 
 is his conduct such as, in your opinion, to reflect credit on the 
 
154 THE TUTOR 
 
 sacred profession for which I intend him?" The Eeverend 
 gentleman paused for a reply, which the Student, after some 
 hesitation, thus returned: 
 
 " In answer to your first question: I have no hesitation in saying 
 'yes ;' I do think he possesses sufficient ability to be an efficient 
 preacher of the Gospel ; but as to your second, queere. I should 
 rather decline to answer it, as I think that you yourself and 
 his fanuly', who know him best, must be the most competent 
 judges on this point." " My dear friend," rejoined the 
 Eector, " I expected more candour, and less reserve from 
 you in answer to my questions. Living as we do in this out- 
 landish part of the world, we have not many opportunities 
 of watching the moral conduct and natural propensities of 
 the boy. But you have known him in Dublia, ' that focus of 
 dissipation.' Par removed from the scrutinizing eyes of his 
 parents, he has lived under your own roof, as your own pupil — 
 you must know his character much better than I do. I, therefore, 
 think you are in duty boimd to give a direct answer to my second 
 question, and to deal candidly with me on the present occasion." 
 The Student, after a moment's reflection, thus replied : — " Ee- 
 verend sir, I am exceedingly sorry you should press me for an 
 answer to your very delicate question, more particularly as I am 
 not able to return a favourable one ; but as you have- put this 
 question so pointedly to me, I feel bound to tell you candidly, 
 but at the same time in the strictest confidence, that my know- 
 ledge of your son obliges me to draw an unfavourable conclusion 
 as to his moral and religious character ; and unless God should 
 give him a new heart, I do not think him a young man likely to 
 reflect credit on the ministry !" 
 
 " I feel quite astounded ; pray tell me candidly, as a sincere 
 friend, the reasons on which you found your opinions ; — you 
 
AND STDDBNT. 155 
 
 may rely on my secrecy. I shall not communicate what you 
 tell me in confidence, not even to my own wife, without your 
 permission. When I hear the whole truth I may then be able 
 to apply some effectual remedy." " My kind friend," answered 
 the Student, " nobody knows better than yourself that the 
 remedy in this case must proceed, not from the works of man, 
 but from the operation of the Holy Spirit ; ' unless the Lord 
 build the house, they labor in vain who build it.' Your son is 
 young in years, but old in profligacy, and should the Lord not 
 reform his carnal heart, you are morally bound, not only not to 
 sanction his taking holy orders, but to exercise your parental 
 authority in dissuading him from it. " The Student then 
 candidly detailed to the father the full particulars of the son's 
 conduct from first to last ; on hearing which the Eeverend 
 father wrung his hands, sobbed aloud, and exclaimed, " Now 
 I feel truly wretched. I am not young in life, and anything 
 but a rich man, as you are well aware ; neither is my con- 
 stitution very robust to bear much more wear and tear. I own 
 that on this youth I have set my heart, fondly dreaming that 
 he may become ihe pride of my life, the solace of my declining 
 years ; that he may succeed to the living that I hold — become 
 the support of his widowed mother, a guardian to his helpless 
 sisters, and an ornament to the Church of God. In all these 
 visions, I confess my weakness, I fondly indulged. All my 
 long-cherished hopes now seem about to be blasted for ever ; 
 and this son, on whom I have set my heart, is likely to be a 
 curse, not a blessing, and to bring down my grey hairs with 
 sorrow to the grave." 
 
 Again the Eeverend gentleman was overpowered by his 
 feelings ; but the Student exhorted him, as a clergyman and a 
 Christian man, never to despair ; adding, " 'All is not lost that 's 
 
156 THE TUTOR 
 
 in danger J whilst there's life there's hope !' Yonr son may yet 
 return to a proper sense of the duty that he owes to Ged and 
 to his over-indulgent parents ; ' with God all things are possible,' 
 and His grace may yet work a chabge in his heart that no 
 human means can effect ; but until ' his change comes,' he is 
 utterly unfit for the ministry, and no Christian man would advise 
 him to enter into it." 
 
 In this view of the case the Eeverend gentleman expressed 
 his fuU concurrence, thanked the Student for his kind 
 sympathy; but added, "WUl you not help me to recover 
 my lost son, and bring him back to his disconsolate father ?" 
 " My kind sir, you know I should willingly serve your son 
 if in my power ; but I can do nothing in his case — ^you know 
 I cannot : he is now removed from under my authority ; and 
 no earthly consideration could induce me again to undertake 
 such a responsibility. When he returns to Dublin he will 
 be his own master — most sincerely do I hope, for your sake, 
 as well as his own, the grace of God may give a proper direction 
 to his thoughts, and bring him back to the paths of duty." 
 " Do you know anything of his Dublin companions ? — ^I know 
 you do. I know that for my sake you will do your utmost to 
 break up this bad connexion, and to save him from its de- 
 moralizing influences ; the only favour I now ask of you is, to 
 have an eye to him on his return to Dublin, and should you see 
 or hear of his keeping bad company, that you may write directly 
 to inform me of it, and then, be the consequences what they may 
 to me and my family, I shall never permit him to enter the 
 Church." " My dear friend," responded the Student, " in your 
 natural anxiety to serve your son, you seem to forget that you 
 are imposing an invidious duty upon me, and one quite incon- 
 sistent with my ideas of honor and independence ; for what is it, 
 
AND STUDENT. 157 
 
 after all, but a request that I should become a spy upon your 
 own son, to turn informer against him ? Such a name among 
 my college friends would prove fatal to my character." " But 
 suppose I teU my son that 1 have made a request of you, shotdd 
 you see or hear of his keeping bad company in college, to ac- 
 quaint me with it ; surely, there can be nothing wrong in this ; 
 the request would be open and candid — ^would it be consistent 
 with your ideas to comply with such a requestP" The Student 
 answered in the affirmative. " Then," said the Eeverend gen- 
 tleman, " this is aU I ask you to do for me," 
 
 This conversation lasted two hours without intermission, 
 and would have continued longer, if not interrupted by the 
 return of the ladies, who had considerably prolonged their 
 walk along the sea-coast that afternoon. On entering the 
 room they could instantly observe a marked alteration in 
 the appearance and manner of the Eeverend gentleman, and 
 asked the cause. " Oh ! 'tis nothing at all ; it has been caused 
 by your long absence. I was beginning to iear that some of the 
 wild men of the caves had sallied forth, and carried you away 
 captive ; my friend here and I were just preparing to set off to 
 the rescue, when relieved from our fears by your agreeable 
 return. Now I am myself again. Should you like a fresh 
 specimen of my instrumental powers ?" To this the ladies 
 assented, whereupon the Eeverend gentleman played with his 
 usual pathos Moore's inimitable air of " Has sorrow thy young 
 days shaded ?" The effect was quite touching, so much so 
 that one of the young ladies said, " Oh ! papa dear, you 
 make us quite melancholy — pray do play something more 
 sprightly." 
 
 Here the Eeverend gentleman, like Timotheus of old, 
 changed his mournful strains, and played the popular ballad 
 
158 THE TUTOR 
 
 of "The girls I left behind me." The minstrel seemed' 
 to throw his entire soul into the music, which was loudly 
 applauded. The tune being played, the Reverend gentleman 
 returned the flute to its case, and said, " Now, what think you 
 of a cup of tea ? — you may find it refreshing, after your long 
 ramble." This proposition was seconded by all, and in a few 
 minutes the happy circle were seated round the tea-table. 
 Here the ladies took up the conversation, and gave an inter- 
 esting account of their afternoon's adventures, with which they 
 entertained the company for the rest of the evening. At length 
 the hour pi rest approached, when the Reverend gentleman 
 said, " Ladies and gentlemen, with your kind permission we 
 shall now read a chapter ; you will admit that, after all, this is 
 the Alpha and Omega of all things." With these words he 
 handed a Bible to the Student, adding, " Our kind friend will 
 read, after which I shall offer up my unworthy prayers for you 
 all." The Student having taken the hooh, read a chapter, after 
 which the Reverend gentleman delivered an extempore but 
 most comprehensive prayer -with more than ordinary fervency 
 and pathos, that seemed to produce a deep impression on the 
 family circle. The Student was sensibly affected, the more so 
 from the feeling that he himself had tuned the strings that 
 produced this solemn effect. Thus ended a day which to the 
 Reverend Rector was one of intense interest, as involving the 
 moral character and future prospects of his favourite son ; but 
 the Reverend gentleman was a Christian man, who never de- 
 spaired of the mercies of the Lord. He called to mind the story 
 of the Prodigal Son, and breathed a secret hope that his own 
 son mighlf follow the example of the prodigal's repentance 
 without " feeding on the husks of swine," or suffering those 
 
AND STUDENT. 169 
 
 privations which led to an alternative so truly humiliating to 
 human nature. With such mingled feelings of resignation and 
 hope, the Eeverend gentleman pronounced a blessing on his 
 family circle, and retired for the night. 
 
160 THE TUTOK 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Full many a etoio eye, and aspect stem, 
 
 Hide hearts where grief has little left to learn ; 
 
 And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost, 
 
 In smiles that least befit who wear them most. — Bykon. 
 
 The Student also retired, but not to rest ; the exciting scenes 
 of the past day wholly banished sleep from his piUow. Left 
 alone, in the silence of night, he compared his own feelings and 
 situation with that of the Eector, and the contrast revived in his 
 mind the most painful emotions. It is true that the depraved 
 habits of a favorite son were to a fond parent a natural soiu'ce 
 of unfeigned regret and bitter reflection ; nevertheless this son 
 was young, and a fond parent was naturally inclined to 
 attribute his levities rather to the buoyancy of a youthful mind 
 than to any innate depravity of heart, and stiH clung to the hope, 
 that, as " a wild youth often makes a wise man," so his son 
 might yet abandon his evil ways, and realize all the long- 
 cherished hopes of a fond father regarding him ; and even 
 thougt such hopes should prove delusive, nevertheless, the 
 Eeverend gentleman could fall back for relief on the consolations 
 of religion, and the society of a devoted wife and affectionate 
 daughters, by whom he was tenderly loved : this reconciled him 
 to his lot, and enabled him to breast the deep waves of affliction ; 
 
AND STUDENT. 161 
 
 but to domestic consolation the Student was a total stranger. 
 Left alone in life, — ^bereft of father, mother, wife, and children — 
 he felt, — ^keenly felt, aU the wretchedness naturally resulting 
 from his own solitary and isolated position in the world, and 
 this the more acutely, that he had tasted the sweets of domestic 
 happiness, and now felt its deprivation with a greater degree 
 of intensity ; In a word, the sorrows of the Eector were bliss 
 itself when compared to his. Impressed with such feelings 
 the Student could not rest, but rising from his bed about two in 
 the morning, he sat by his bedroom window, which looked out 
 upon the bay. The night was perfectly tranquil ; the stars, re- 
 flected by the waves, gUttered in the dark blue vault of the firma- 
 ment ; all around was silent as the grave, save when the stiUness 
 was broken by the rumbling of the wtves as they dashed against 
 the basement of the Eeotory, or were re-echoed by the surrounding 
 caverns. At such an hour it was a grand and solemn spectacle 
 to behold — the heaving billows roUing mountains high, and 
 struggling like a fiery steed to shake off aU control and pursue 
 their headlong course, until checked by the voice of Omnipotence 
 commanding, " Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther." On this 
 majestic scene the Student gazed in admiration and wonder, 
 until the horizon began to assume a sanguine hue, and the sun to 
 rise in all its glory from the eastern wave, like a globe of fire, 
 gilding with crimson and gold the glassy surface of the bay. 
 The effect of such a glow of sunshine upon the Student, after a 
 restless, night, was to produce a drowsy sensation, which he was 
 about to indulge, and was in the act of laying his head upon his 
 pillow for this purpose, when a knock at his bedroom door 
 roused him from his lethargy ; and on asking who was there, the 
 Eector answered, — "It is I, your dear friend ; I come to inform 
 you that, as this is your last day at the Eectory, we have deter- 
 
16a THE TUTOR 
 
 mined to have a cruize on the bay, and a pic-nic on the island 
 in compliment to you. Come down as soon as possible : the 
 ladies are all up, waiting breakfast for you." 
 
 The Student was dressed in a few moments, or rather was 
 ready dressed — ^not having taken off his clothes all night. On 
 going down to the parlour he found the party all assembled 
 for prayer, which being over, the kind-hearted parson said to the 
 Student, who was looking pale and harassed— the effects of a 
 restless night, — " Cheer up, my dear fellow ; remember the 
 old proverb, ' A faint heart never won a fair lady,' ' none but 
 the brave deserve the fair ;' come now, let us enjoy a good 
 breakfast, after which I shall introduce you to the beauties of 
 Donegal Bay, of which you may now see about me some fair living 
 samples." The last wordte were particularly addressed to his 
 daughters (the action being suited to the words), who smiled at 
 the gallantry of their good-humoured, kind-hearted father. 
 
 Breakfast being over, " Now," said the host to his guest, " give 
 your arm to Miss W — , and lead the way." " Not so," replied 
 the latter, " Seniores priores ; I prtB aeguar." The Eeverend 
 gentleman accordingly took the hint — ^led the van — his wife 
 leaning on his arm. 
 
 On reaching the beach, they found a yacht with two stout 
 rowers in readiness, into which they entered, and in half an hour 
 were cruizing about in the centre of the bay. It was a heavenly 
 day ; tHe sun shone forth in all its meridian splendour ; not a 
 cloud appeared to darken the horizon, or a breath of wind to 
 ruffle the surface of the bay, which resembled in smoothness a 
 sheet of glass, save when a heaving bDlow occasionally raised 
 the yacht upon its ridge, which being broken, the cm-ling wave 
 was marked by a slight but distinct line of foam. 
 
AND STUDENT. 163 
 
 The ladies, before going aboard, were famished with iishing- 
 rods ; the gentlemen with fowling pieces, with which they in- 
 tended to amuse themselves in shooting seagulls, until ordered 
 by the Eector not to use them for this purpose, not to be cruel 
 for fun without any necessity, but to recollect ^sop's fable 
 of " the Erogs and the Boys." " I am resolyed," continued the 
 Eeverend gentleman, " that not a living thing shall fall by my 
 hand this day, not so much as a fly : ' let's tread aside, and let 
 the reptile live.' Look you here : this is my instrument of de- 
 struction," producing his favourite flute. 
 
 The good parson's humane resolution was' applauded by the 
 ladies ; whereupon the Keverend gentleman commenced to play 
 his favourite airs, which seemed to steal along the waves, and 
 being re-echoed by the surrounding caverns, to produce a most 
 enchanting effect. The legend of Orpheus arresting the course of 
 the rapid streams, and commanding the breathless attention of 
 the listening groves, was no longer a fable ; Ml nature Seemed 
 as if on the qui vive to catch the heavenly sounds of the Ee- 
 verend minstrel ; in a word, the party appeared delighted and 
 happy. Por three hours they amused themselves in thus cruizing 
 about the bay, until the excitement of the scene began gradually 
 to subside, being succeeded by the retui'n of appetite, produced by 
 exercise, and sharpened by the sea breezes: this reminded them 
 that the hour for dinner was drawing near ; accordingly, the 
 rowers erecting a saU, rowed for the land, and in less than 
 twenty minutes pushed their little craft aground, in a shallow 
 between two projecting cliffs — ^where, assisted by some good- 
 natured country folk upon the beach, they managed to effect a 
 landing, though not without receiving the fuU benefit of the 
 spray, which seemed less agreeable to the gentlemen than the 
 ladies, to whom it afforded a subject of much merriment, even at 
 
 m2 
 
164 THE TUTOE 
 
 the sacrifice of some article of dress. The gallantry of the gen- 
 tlemen was tested on the occasion, each of whom vied with the 
 other in bearing his fair charge safe to land, a task which they 
 at length successfully executed. 
 
 Having ascended one of the group of islands above referred to, 
 they found an excellent cold dinner awaiting them, which was 
 cooked overnight by orders of the hospitable host. In an 
 instant the entire party were assembled round the festive board ; 
 the Eeverend gentleman taking his place at the foot of the table, 
 and his wife at the head. It has been said that hunger is the 
 best sauce ; this was realized on the present occasion. It was 
 interesting to witness the gout with which all seemed to enjoy 
 the repast, and the profound silence that prevailed during the 
 performance of this interesting scene, which was only interrupted 
 by the din of knives and forks, or the broken surges as they 
 dashed against the surrounding rocks. 
 
 Dinner being ended, the Eeverend gentleman returned thanks ; 
 after which he proposed a full bumper to the health of the ladies. 
 He then arose, and having deputed his son-in-law to act as 
 Vice-president, only for a few moments, whilst he was giving a 
 few verbal commissions to 'the Student to be delivered to some 
 of his Dublin friends, he beckoned to his favourite son, and 
 placing himself in the centre between the son and his friend, 
 took an arm of each, and addressed his son as follows : — 
 
 " My dear boy, you have always been my favourite child ; this 
 you well know, even though I were silent on the subject. I have 
 always called you my ' spes gregis ;' let me hope you may 
 never become my * opprobrium pagL' I know the kindness of 
 your heart — ^that you love me and your family I have no doubt ; 
 but I want some practical proofs of your real aflfection — prove this 
 by deeds, not by words ; words are idle, and amount to nothing at 
 
AND STUDENT. 165 
 
 all. What I fear — I speak with the utmost candour — is, lest 
 your heart may not be proof against the numerous temptations of 
 the Irish metropolis, — temptations that, like the fabled Syrens, 
 first attract the unguarded by their musical fascinations, next 
 convert them into swine, and finally devour them. Against such 
 dangerous corrupters I wish, if possible, to stop the ears of my 
 dear boy, by placing him under the surveillance of a kind friend, 
 who may help to rescue him from their fatal embraces — this friend 
 I consider the individual whose arm I now hold, and in whose 
 hearing I now speak ; — only do what is right, and I am con- 
 vinced this friend will never abandon you ; study to merit his 
 favorable opinion, and you are sure to secure mine; but 
 should you neglect the advice of this friend, or act contrary 
 thereto, then, indeed, yom' mother and I would have just cause 
 to feel seriously alarmed for your moral improvement, as well as 
 for your present and future happiness. I shall now be quite 
 candid and explicit in teUiug you that I have it on the authority 
 of your brother-in-law, that you have several dangerous com- 
 panions in Dublin ; but one in particular, against whom I want 
 most particularly to guard you. I wish you to break off all con- 
 nexion with this profligate young man — I ask this as a favor — wiU 
 you comply with my request ?" The son answered in the affirma- 
 tive. " My dear boy," continued the anxious parent, " I am in- 
 clined to believe your word, and to think and hope the best ; but 
 knowing as I do, the weakness of the humanheart, and the fickleness 
 of the human mind, I own I am not without strong misgivings, 
 owing to my over-anxiety for your welfare. I have, therefore, 
 made a request of our'ftiend, ere he leaves us, to have an eye to 
 you in Dublin, and should he ever see or hear of your keeping 
 the company of the individual against whom I caution you, to 
 acquaint me with the circumstance as soon as possible. WiU 
 
166 THE TUTOR 
 
 you," said the Reverend gentleman (turning to the Student), 
 " grant me this favor ?" The latter acquiesced. 
 
 The Rector was in the act of expressing his thanks, when 
 interrupted by the presence of the ladies, who severely re- 
 proached their father with dividing their party and marring their 
 enjoyment. " The party," observed the ladies, " has been given 
 as a compliment to our friend ; but you make a monopoly of his 
 society, and shut us out of the meeting : this is not fair." 
 
 The Eector wishing to give a pleasant turn to the conversa- 
 tion, jestingly replied, " that his friend had some proposition to 
 make to him regarding his fair daughters, which did not admit 
 of procrastination, as he was about to set off for Dublin that 
 afternoon — will this plead my excuse?" "Not it, indeed, 
 papa," was the curt reply ; " had your friend any proposition to 
 make in reference to your ' fair daughters ' as you call them, they 
 would -be the first to hear it, and you the last to divulge it." 
 " Oh, no ! this wiU. never do — we cannot listen to such nonsense." 
 
 Here the entire party resumed their places at the table, when 
 the Reverend gentleman again charmed them with Ms favorite 
 melodies, and closed the scene by proposing the health of the 
 ladies, and caUing upon the Student to speak to the toast. This 
 was an arduous undertaking, to which the Student felt whoUy 
 incompetent to do justice under the circumstances of his case ; 
 however, he got upon his legs — affected to look gay — made an 
 effort to say something smart, which was well received, and then 
 resumed his seat. 
 
 After this ^he entire party rose, descended from the island, 
 and walked along the sea-coast to the 'Rectory, where they 
 arrived about six o'clock. 
 
 An early tea had been ordered for the accommodation of the 
 Student, who had to go that evening to the town of Strabane, 
 
AND STUDENT. 167 
 
 a distance of six miles, where he determined to stop the night, in 
 order to be in time for the Dublin coach, which started every 
 morning from that town at sis o'clock. 
 
 Tea being ended, and the hour of parting having arrived, the 
 Student bid a last affectionate adieu to his kind friends, from whom 
 he parted with unfeigned feelings of the sincerest gratitude. 
 The Eeverend Eector accompanied him two miles on his journey, 
 on horseback. The conversation reverted over and over again 
 to his favorite son ; — the subject being next his heart, was always 
 ready at his lips ; men being naturally inclined to speak fre- 
 quently on those topicsthat most deeply interest them. The Student 
 repeated his promise to the Eector regarding his son ; the latter 
 then pressed his hand affectionately, adding, " Farewell — God 
 bless you. Let us hear from you immediately on your return to 
 Dublin; we shall be quite on the fidgets until we do hear. 
 Believe me, I and every member of my family shall ever feel 
 deeply interested in your weKare." 
 
 Having thus spoken, the Eeverend gentleman returned to 
 the Eectory, and the Student proceeded on his journey to Stra- 
 bane, where he arrived about haK-past seven in the evening. 
 
 In Strabane there was but one inn of any consequence, but 
 this aiforded excellent accommodation, and as the charges were 
 high, none except persons of independence were in the habit of 
 frequenting it. Those who wished to make sure of a seat in the 
 Dublin coach, found it their interest to stop the night at this 
 inn, being the one from which the coach started every morning. 
 Of this number was the Student, who now entered the inn, 
 where he met with the singular adventure which furnishes the 
 subject-matter of the ensuing chapter. 
 
168 THE TUTOR 
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 tJpoN a hoary cliff that watched the sea 
 
 Her bahe was found dead ; upon its little cheek, 
 
 The tear that nature bid it weep had turned 
 
 An ice-drop, sparkling in the morning beam ; 
 
 And to the turf its helpless hand waa frozen, 
 
 For she the woeful mother had gone mad, 
 
 And laid it down, regardless of its fate, and of her own ; 
 
 Yet, had she many days of sorrow in the world, but ne'er wept. 
 
 She lived on alms, and carried in her hands 
 
 Some withered stalks she gathered in the spring ; 
 
 When any asked the cause, she smiled, and said. 
 
 They were her sisters, and would come and watch 
 
 Her grave, when she was dead. She never spoke 
 
 Of her deceiver, father, mother, home — 
 
 Or child, or Heaven, or HeU, or God ; but still — 
 
 In lonely places walked, and ever gazed 
 
 Upon the withered stalks, and talked of them, 
 
 Till wasted to the shadow of her youth. 
 
 With woe, too wide to see beyond— she died. 
 
 — PoUock'a Cowse of Time. 
 
 On entering the public room of the inn at Strabane, the 
 Student obseryed but one individual, sitting in an arm-chair at 
 the upper end of the room, with a book in his hand, which so 
 engrossed his attention, that he did not raise his head as the 
 Student came in, but continued to pore over the contents of 
 the volume which he was reading. There was an air of dignity 
 
AND STUDENT. 169 
 
 about the stranger, that, independent of his blue braided frock- 
 coat and black stock, convinced the Student that he was not only 
 a military man, but a gentleman, and man of the world ; his hat 
 was covered with crape, a mark of deep mourning for some dear 
 departed friend that instantly created a feeling of interest and 
 sympathy in the Student's mind in his favor ; his age might 
 have been about thirty-eight ; in stature he was slight and well- 
 proportioned ; he wore moustaches, and had a profusion of black 
 nair, thickly matted, that flowed in a sort of wild confusion about 
 his face ; his eyes were black and penetrating, and as he raised 
 them towards the Student, the latter could discern the lines of 
 thought deeply marked upon his brow, with a somewhat wild 
 expression of countenance, though chastened and softened down 
 by a melancholy cast that indicated the internal workings of 
 a troubled spirit — ^he fixed his eyes for a moment upon the 
 Student, as if gazing upon vacancy, but again withdrew them, 
 and returned to his reading without uttering a word. Seeing 
 no disposition on the part of the stranger to enter into conversa- 
 tion, the Student took up a newspaper that lay upon the table, 
 as if to read, when in reality his thoughts were far away, and his 
 eyes merely wandered over the columns without reading a word. 
 This taciturnity continued for half an hour, and might have lasted 
 longer, had not the waiter entering the room — asked the gen- 
 tlemen if they wished to dine ? To this the stranger returned 
 no answer ; but the Student replied, " that he had already dined, 
 but should like some tea." " Perhaps, sir," he added, addressing 
 the stranger, " you may kindly join me in a cup." The latter 
 thanked him, and assented : in a few moments the waiter entered 
 with a tray and some toast, upon which the stranger rising laid 
 down his book, and took his seat at the table. The waiter asked 
 the gentlemen " if they would wish him to pour out the tea," 
 
170 • THE TUTOR 
 
 to which, the Student replied, " No," and, addressing the 
 stranger, said, " I have been to the University in my day, where 
 the students are great adepts in the art of tea-making :" turning 
 to the servant, he said, "with this gentlemain's permission 
 I shall pour him out a cup myself, and ring should we want 
 you." The waiter took the hint, and left the room ; but the 
 reserve of the stranger continued. At tea he spoke but little, and 
 tea being ended he again became moody and distracted : took 
 out his watch— looked at it— put it into his pocket again — took 
 up his book — ^turned over its pages for a moment, and addressing 
 the Student, said, — " Sir, I hope you do not think me rude, — 
 an inference wMch I fear may be drawn from the incoherency 
 of my conduct ; but though appearances may tell against me, I 
 assure you rudeness is not a trait in my character ; ' we are not 
 always what we seem.' " Then, pausing for a moment, and 
 looking at the volume before him, he continued — "This is 
 ' Pollock's Course of Time,' a new publication — have you read 
 it ?" The Student answered in the negative. " WeU then, you 
 have much pleasure in reserve ; the volume abounds in scenes 
 and passages, so exquisitely touching and pathetic, that for 
 natural beauty and real sublimity, they stand unrivalled in the 
 English language; — ^take, for example, the history of the poor 
 deluded maniac (referring to the heading of the present Chapter) : 
 what can exceed this in natural beauty, simplicity, and truth ? 
 this is, in reality, ' holding the mirrbr up to nature ;' 'tis nature 
 herself speaking her own language, and it reaches the heart; 
 but none can enter into the sufferings of the poor forlorn 
 lunatic, save he who has drained affliction's bitter cup. " The 
 voluptuary and lust-dieted man cannot appreciate them, — ^his 
 mental faculties are so blunted by excess and stupefied by 
 indulgence, as to be utterly imsusceptible of the finest feel- 
 
AND STUDENT. 171 
 
 ing3 of human nature, nay, wholly incapable of comprehending 
 them; this privilege is reserved only for a few ill-fated men, 
 like myself, who have waded through deep waters, and been 
 melted down in the crucible of human distress." Here the 
 speaker put down the book, wholly overcome by his own feelings, 
 and remaiaed silent for a few moments ; — at length, recovering 
 as if from a reverie, he said — " I fear you must think me either 
 a fool or a madman, in thus obtruding my private sorrows upon 
 you, who are an utter stranger to me ; but there are certain 
 momeuts when the human heart is so fuU, that its only safety 
 consists in opening wide the flood-gates of the soul, and giving 
 free vent to the bursting tide of its sorrows ; the luxury of tears 
 seems its only consolation ; on the other hand, the dryness of the 
 mental springs under such circumstances becomes a source of 
 the greatest pain and the most aggravated affliction ; a state of 
 feeling that, no doubt, the prophet must have experienced in all 
 its bitterness, when he pathetically exclaims, ' Oh, that my 
 head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I 
 might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my 
 people.'* This is my apology for such a manifestation of weak- 
 ness." " Pray, sir," answered the Student, " pass no apology to 
 me. I myself am ' a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;' 
 I can therefore fully enter into your feelings, and sincerely 
 sympathize in your sufferings; but when you hear my tale, 
 perhaps you may admit that there are degrees in human suffer- 
 ings, and that yours have not yet reached the culminating point, 
 a consideration that may help you to bear up under your troubles 
 with greater patience and more moderation ; — but to your story 
 I am bound to give precedence, should you be pleased to make 
 
 * Jeremiah, Chap, ix., v. 1. 
 
112 THE TUTOK 
 
 me the depository of your confidence. I shall then freely com- 
 municate mine ; to you, mutual benefit must result from such a 
 confidential interchange of sentiment, and consolation follow as 
 a necessary sequence." The stranger expressed his wiDingness 
 to comply with these conditions, adding, — "It will be like taking a 
 dead weight from my heart; but ere I begin, it may be advis- 
 able to order the servant to remove the tray, to avoid interrup- 
 tion during our communication. Will you kindly ring the 
 beU ?" The Student complied, and the servant having entered 
 the room, the stranger ordered supper at twelve o'clock, adding, 
 " Until then we must not be interrupted." The servant having 
 promised attention to his orders, quietly left the room, when the 
 two gentlemen took their seats at the table, and the stranger 
 began as follows : — " My name is L — n. I am a captain in His 
 Majesty's service, the eldest son and heir of Mr. L — , a gentleman 
 of fortune, resident in the county of Kilkenny. On leaving 
 school, I entered the Dublin University as a Fellow Commoner, 
 which, however, I quitted in less than a year, a military life 
 being more congenial to my feelings, and obtained a commission, 
 by purchase, in the East India Company's service. 
 
 " In my boyish days I had read much of Eastern scenes. The 
 romantic beauties of the Vale of Cashmere ; the Punjaub ; the 
 wealth of Golconda,— all fixed themselves so deeply in my 
 mind, and so wrapt my youthful imagination, that I felt the 
 most uncontrolable ardour to visit those scenes ; and now that 
 I had attained the age of manhood, I was resolved to realize the 
 fond visions of my school-boy days ; but there remained one 
 insurmountable obstacle in the way of my roving propensities : 
 a young lady, to whom I was attached from my youth, and who 
 returned my affections with all the ardour of a youthful and 
 devoted heart, — to quit her would be a sacrifice to which I felt 
 
AND STUDENT. 173 
 
 myself unequal, and might seem a violation on my part of solemn 
 vows and mutually plighted love — an imputation wholly repug- 
 nant to my feelings and sense of honor ; but owing to some 
 family differences, the intimacy between the lady and myself had 
 been wholly suspended for better than twelve months,, and this 
 I was led to construe into a feeling of indifference on her 
 part towards me, so much so as to consider myself wholly 
 released from my former engagements to her, and consequently 
 at perfect liberty to follow the natural bent of my own inclina- 
 tions, now that the only tie was severed that bound me to home. 
 However, before quitting my native land, I was moved by not an 
 ■unnatural feeling of youthful vanity to appear before my former 
 lover in my regimentals, and to take a last farewell of the first 
 object of my youthful affections ; but the effect of this interview 
 was to ):evive all my former prepossessions in favor of the lady, 
 and hers towards me. We were in the same rank in life, — our 
 fortunes were nearly equal, and the parents at either side seemed 
 disposed to sanction our union, more particularly as the young 
 lady expressed her willingness to accompany me to any part of 
 the world wherever I might choose to take her ; the consequence 
 was, that, in one short month, which to us seemed very long, 
 she and I became man and wife, and the next month found 
 us on our overland route to India. I felt most desirous to 
 visit the northern provinces of Hindostan, more particularly the 
 romantic Vale of Cashmere, in the society of my beautiful and 
 beloved bride, in order to realize the anticipated visions of the 
 past as expressed in the following romantic lines : — 
 
 " ' Oh ! blessed of delights, as it every whereis, 
 To be near the loved one, what a treasure is his ! 
 Who in moonlight and music thus calmly can glide, 
 Through the Vale of Cashmere with this one by his side ! 
 If woman can make the worst wilderness dear, 
 Think, think what a heaven she can make of Cashmere !' 
 
174 THE TUTOR 
 
 " With such feelings and prepossessions in favor of the ro- 
 mantic vale, I managed, though at no small pecuniary sacrifice, 
 to get exchanged from an English to a Sepoy regiment, then 
 quartered at the Vale." (In modern times few English ofiB.cers 
 would run such a risk ; but the case was different twenty-two 
 years ago. Then the best understanding existed between the 
 English and the natives. Then the English name was honored 
 and respected throughout the length and breadth of Hindostan. 
 Let us express a passing hope that our country may again re- 
 cover her lost prestige over the minds of her Indian subjects, not 
 by the terror of her arms, or the vindictive effusion of human 
 blood, but by the wisdom of her councils, and the Christian for- 
 bearance of her policy.) 
 
 Having made this slight digression, we again resumed' the 
 thread of the gallant Captain's narrative : — 
 
 " My wife was no less anxious for this change of scene than 
 I. My rank in the army, added to some personal influence, ob- 
 tained for Mrs. L — and myself easy access to the Emperor's 
 private parties ; we had the honor of dining frequently in his 
 company, and of visiting all those scenes and places of which so 
 much has been written and sung, that it would only be waste of 
 time to enter into minute detail of places, which perhaps are as 
 well known to you (at least from books) as they are to me ; " 
 besides, the thread of my story begins to grow so dark, that 
 glowing imagery and animated description would be not only 
 inconsistent with my narrative, but with the state of my own 
 fiiind. 
 
 " I had been now sis years resident ia the Vale, where my 
 wife and I enjoyed all the luxuries that money could procure, 
 and which a scene so romantic was so capable of imparting. 
 During my sojourn, my wife presented me with a daughter 
 
AND STUDENT. 175 
 
 and a son ; the latter died a few months from his birth ; but my 
 daughter seemed to grow up a model of personal beauty, the 
 fairest flower of the Vale of Cashmere. 
 
 " She was the idol of her mother, and mine ; the admiration of 
 all who visited our quarters; and was then in her fifth year ; but, 
 though her presence seemed indispensable to our mutual happi- 
 ness, nevertheless her education and her owii future welfare 
 were objects of paramount importance. We, therefore, detemuned 
 to sacrifice our own feelings to the interests of our chUd, to send 
 her back to England for the benefit of her education, and to 
 place her imder the care of her grandmamma, — who from her 
 well-known talents and many virtues seemed particularly capable 
 of ' trainiug the tender thought,' and attending to the personal 
 health and happiness of our only earthly treasure ; accordiugly, 
 in the spring of the same year, we placed her under the care of 
 a brother officer, about to return, with his wife and family, to 
 Europe, by the Overland route, and in less than three months 
 had the happiness of hearing from her grandmamma of heV safe 
 arrival at the residence of her ancestors, and of receiving a letter 
 enclosed from the dear child herself, addressed to her mamma 
 and myseK, describing her happiness in the society of her 
 grandmamma, and giving an artless but singularly interesting 
 account of her voyage home. 
 
 " As years rolled on ' she grew in grace and stature,' and was 
 as remarkable for the endowments of her mind as for the fascina- 
 tion of her person. 
 
 " Every succeeding post brought letters, as well from the dear 
 child as from aU our friends, too flattering to the pride of her 
 parents ; but, alas ! human happiness is of short duration — the 
 fairest flowers are frequently nipped in the bud — the sun that 
 rises brightest in the morning of life, as the day advances, often 
 
176 . TUB TUTOE 
 
 becomes involved in clouds and terrific with storms — a sad 
 lesson to sinful man, not to set his affections on the perishable 
 goods of human life. The too flattering accounts lately received, 
 regarding the dear child, were soon followed by the less cheering 
 news of the illness of my father, with an order for my instant 
 return ; and this order was quickly followed by a newspaper 
 giving an account of his death. The shock occasioned by this 
 account was too much for my nervous temperament ; the more 
 so, as my conscience was not wholly free from the sting of self- 
 reproach, in abandoning my father in his declining years, in 
 order to gratify a morbid propensity to visit foreign countries, 
 when I should have stayed at home, as in duty bound, to attend 
 to the personal wants of a kind parent, and to smoothe the pillow 
 of his declining years. Young has well observed that, 
 
 " ' Without thoughf; our curse were half unfelt ; 
 Its sharpest sting" would spare the human heart.' 
 
 " The words of the poet were now painfully realized in my 
 case ; all my bright ideal of happiness seemed now but a delusive 
 dream, and I was not without some ominous forebodings that a, 
 heavier blow was still in reserve for me, and that the bitterest 
 shaft in the quiver stiQ remained to be discharged: these, 
 alas ! were not vain fears, but natural inferences from the fact, 
 that the late accounts as to the health of my daughter were not 
 quite so cheering as formerly ; she was represented to me as. 
 extremely delicate, and having a tendency to decline ; the Doctor 
 however, left us grounds to hope that she might still rally, but 
 that variety and change of scene were absolutely indispensable 
 to her recovery. The first account convinced me that it was all 
 over with my child — ^that I should see her no more in this life ; 
 the thought of such a calamity plunged my wife and myself into 
 
AND ST0DENT. 177 
 
 all the horrors of despondency. Keligion, philosophy, the sym- 
 pathy of friends — all were absorbed — forgotten in the over- 
 whelming sense of our -bereavement, and for a season we 
 resigned ourselves to all the horrors of despair. At length, 
 roused from this lethargic state, my wife having completed some 
 necessary arrangements at the Vale (for myself I felt prostrate — 
 body and mind — wholly incapable of any exertion), we returned 
 to England by the Overland route. Our passage was a 
 remarkably quick one. On our arrival in London, we went 
 direct to the house of a near relative, residing in the West 
 End. With a trembling hand and palpitating heart I knocked 
 at the door ; — a chilling sensation crept through my whole frame. 
 I anticipated the worst ; I was prepared for the worst, and the 
 worst was reaKzed. I could read in the looks of my friends and 
 their deep mourning that I was childless, and soon learnt that 
 she to whom I looked forward as the pride of my life, and the 
 consolation of my old age, was now mouldering in the silent 
 grave, and that I was left desolate. 
 
 "I felt sick at heart ; for many days I wholly abstained from 
 food ; — such was the state of my feelings, that I appeared to my 
 friends quite deranged, and my death was hourly apprehended. 
 My wife was no less affected by our bereavement, though she 
 bore it vidth more fortitude and greater self-control. I believe 
 that, under trying circumstances, the weaker vessel often 
 proves the stronger, and presents a bold front to the rising 
 surges of adversity, when the lords of the creation hang 
 down their headsia hopeless despair, and suffer themselves to 
 be swept away by the torrent without any resistance. Of this 
 superiority on the part of woman the instances are innumerable 
 in every age, and in aU countries ; the names of Artemisia and 
 Portia will go down the stream of time encircled by a halo of 
 
 N 
 
178 THE TUTOR 
 
 glory, whilst the heroism and devotedness of a Lavalette and 
 a Corday in modem times furnish a theme for panegyric to 
 every succeeding generation ; neither are these acts of devoted- 
 ness on the part of our fair countrywomen limited to particular 
 times or great emergencies ; they are of daily occurrencie in 
 domestic life — ^they constitute the great charm of the sex, and 
 are the surest foundation of true happiness, if such a thing can 
 be supposed to exist in the present sublunary state — so full of 
 troubles, vicissitudes, and trials. Even my wifej in her own 
 sphere, has proved herself a heroine of no ordinary grade — 
 for me she braved all the perils of the ocean — for me she resided 
 for years in a remote part of the globe, far away from all her 
 friends. The death of her daughter was to her the greatest of 
 all shocks ; nevertheless, fearing the effect that' any indulgence 
 of sorrow on her part might have upon my constitution, she has 
 struggled successfully to smother a mother's feelings, and has 
 lately proposed to accompany me direct to our own home, 
 without any delay— a proposition that I should have embraced, 
 had not my medical friends opposed it, on the ground that my 
 sudden return might be attended with dangerous consequences 
 in my present feeble and nervous state. I therefore suggested 
 to my wife to return without me, promising to follow as soon as 
 the state of my health should enable me to undertake the 
 journey. With this suggestion she complied, and set off, 
 accompanied by her maid, without a moment's delay, and 
 arrived at our country residence the following afternoon. The 
 return of post brought me a consolatory letter announcing her 
 safe arrival. It is now a fortnight since we parted, and she is 
 anxiously waiting my return. I start to-morrow morning on 
 my homeward journey. But, my dear friend, shall I now ac- 
 knowledge to you my ing^ratitude — shall I call it infidelity to 
 
AND STUDENT. 179 
 
 my wife ? No, my conduct does not merit so harsh a name — to 
 her I was never unfaithful — neyer unkind ; no one can justly 
 charge me with such an oifenoe; — ^neither did my wife ever 
 accuse me of it ; nevertheless, in spite of all her devotion to 
 me — aU the personal sacrifices she made on my account, I 
 cannot help myself. I return home with a broken heart. The 
 sorrows of life are too many for me — the hand of the Lord is 
 heavy upon me — I feel my earthly career drawing rapidly to a 
 close. The death of my father I might have borne, though 
 to me a subject of great mental remorse ; nevertheless he lived 
 out his time, and was gathered to his fathers in a good old age : 
 but my daughter — the pride of my life — the joy of my heart — 
 the source, next to God, of all my present and future hap- 
 piness — to see her nipped like a rose-bud in the morning of 
 life ! Oh ! the reflection is too painful — ^beyond expression — 
 beyond endurance. No one can tell, no one can conceive the 
 intensity of a parent's sufferings in my case, save one who, like 
 me, has drunk to the lees the ' cup of wormwood and gall.' 
 You have seen, my kind friend, the poor hind who breaks 
 stones on the public road for fourpence a-day from morning till 
 night. God is my Judge, I would willingly change my condition 
 with his, had God spared me my child. By the death of my 
 father I inherit an estate of eight thousand a year, and have 
 saved up from five to six thousand pounds duriag my sojourn 
 abroad. I am what is called a rich man, — but what is wealth to 
 me ? It cannot purchase peace of mind, it cannot secure hap- 
 piness ; much less can it bring back my daughter — ^without her 
 this life has no charm for me — no tie to bind me to it. Peace of 
 miud — alas ! this is a blessing I can never enjoy until I 
 ' shuffle off this mortal coU,' and lay my weary limbs in the 
 cold, silent tomb that contains the mortal remains of her who 
 
 n3 
 
180 THE TUTOK 
 
 was dearer to me than life, and whose premature death I shall 
 never cease to deplore." 
 
 The Captain having spoken these words looked wildly round, 
 and uttered some incoherent sentences, but again recovering the 
 thread of his reasoning, he thus concluded : — " Tou have now 
 heard my tale ; I thank you for the courtesy with which you 
 have listened to me, and I trust I am fully capable of apprecia- 
 ting the kindness of your sympathy. I am now ready to hear 
 your tale in my turn, with the same degree of attention that you 
 have extended to me ; but should the web of your destiny be 
 composed of threads as dark as mine, sad indeed must be your 
 lot, and obdurate the heart of him who could withhold from you 
 the tear of sympathy and the hand of friendship ; but if such a 
 man there be, thank God that I am not that heartless individual." 
 
 The Cfiptain having finished his tale, a pause of a few 
 moments elapsed, during which the Student endeavoured to 
 arrange his thoughts, and then addressed his friend as follows ; — 
 
 "My dear friend — if you will allow me the honor to call you 
 so — I have listened with the most painful interest to your 
 extraordinary story. Tours is indeed a truly heart-rending case ; 
 would I had the power of applying the balm of consolation to 
 your afflicted spirit, for though we be strangers one to the other, 
 nevertheless, all are members of the great human family, and as 
 such, mutually bound to assist one another. But you and I are 
 no longer strangers ; the ties of mutual sympathy arising from 
 a similarity of vicissitudes draw us so closely together that I 
 now feel my interest quite identified with yours, as much so, 
 as if we had been friends of many years' standing ; I shall there- 
 fore lay my case candidly before you, and when you hear my 
 story, I feel convinced you vrill admit the truth of what I before 
 stated, viz.,— that there are degrees of wretchedness in human 
 
AND STUDENT. 181 
 
 life, and thct yours have not yet reached the culminating point ; 
 that in the words of the Eoman Satirist, your troubles have been 
 taken from the middle, and mine from the top of misfortune's 
 heap ; but as my story is simple, and to be told in a few words, I 
 promise not to trespass on your patience at any considerable 
 length." " Pray do not talk of patience to me," interrupted the 
 Captain ; " take your own time — ^mine is of no consequence, and 
 even though it were, I feel I could not turn it to better account 
 than by listening attentively to your instructive history." The 
 Student thanked the gallant Captain, and thus resumed : — " I 
 am the second son of a gentleman of property, resident in the 
 South of Ireland. My predilection, like your own, at first in- 
 clined me to a military profession. My father not wishing to 
 thwart my natural inclination, or perhaps thinking me fit for 
 nothing else, after some hesitation acquiesced, and deposited a sum 
 of money with a view of purchasing me a commission in a 
 militia regiment, out of which I was resolved to volunteer for 
 foreign service when the first opportunity presented itself ; but 
 here an insurmountable obstacle intervened, viz., that my father 
 held a property on a lease of lives of which I was one. At first 
 he thought this difliculty might be removed, and that the land- 
 lord would agree to the substitution of a younger brother in the 
 lease in my room ; but this being refused, I . was forced to 
 relinquish the idea of becoming a soldier, and to turn my 
 thoughts to some other profession ; therefore, being well educated 
 under a private tutor, I entered the Dublin University, as a 
 pensioner, in April, 1829; but about three years from this 
 period, on reaching my Junior sophister year, my father's 
 embarrassments increased to such an extent, owing to causes 
 which I at present forbear to name, but which may appear in 
 some subsequent page of my story, that I was thrown quite upon 
 
182 THE TUTOE 
 
 my own resources, and subject to all those vicissitudes so peculiar 
 to those who, like me, are obliged to live by their wits, and to 
 shift for themselves in life. ' 
 
 " Under these circumstances the difficulties I had to encounter 
 were so many, and my College career so crowded with extraor- 
 dinary incidents, that my history might furnish materials for 
 several volumes, and perhaps, at a future day, may serve ' to 
 point a moral or adorn a tale ;' but as minute detail would be 
 inconsistent with the brevity that I have proposed to myself, 
 I pass on to the turning point in my story ; reserviag detail for 
 fitter opportunity. 
 
 " Having taken my degree in the University, I found my 
 father's property so heavily mortgaged that, unless redeemed 
 within a stated period, the mortgage was sure to be foreclosed, 
 and the property lost for ever. This to me was a sad alterna- 
 tive, not only as regarded myself personally, but also my entire 
 family. One alternative only presented itself as the only fea- 
 sible means left of saving the remnant of my father's property. 
 I had formed an attachment in my undergraduate career to a 
 young lady who had been a ward of chancery, and was possessed 
 of an independent fortune. The lady returned my affection with 
 the most disinterested devotedness, and married me at a venture, 
 though not in perfect accordance with the wishes of all the 
 members of her family, some of whom were opposed to the 
 union from their knowledge of my father's difficulties. For a 
 year after my marriage I experienced all that happiness 
 naturally resulting from a union founded on mutual affection 
 and esteem. It has been truly said that ' the course of true 
 love never yet ran pure,' — ^this was realized in my case ; the lady 
 to whom I had devoted my life was ia delicate health, having a 
 manifest tendency to decline, and at length death, that inexorable 
 
AND STUDENT. 183 
 
 tyrant, came to lay siege to the frail fortress of all my eartUy 
 happiness. 
 
 "About nine months after ourjunion, my wife gave birth to a boy, 
 who, however, did not survive the effects of a surgical operation. 
 The case was heart-rending, and the sufferings of the dear patient 
 great in the extreme ; however, she bore them with all the calm 
 resignation of a true follower of Jesus. Within twelve months 
 of this period she presented me with another child, a daughter, 
 after which she sank rapidly, and left me a widower in less than 
 three months from the birth of the chUd. Pew can conceive the 
 wretchedness of my situation at that particular crisis ; those 
 only who have been tried in the fiery furnace, can form 
 any estimate of the extent of my sufferings. One thing only 
 helped to console me ; my infant child, the pledge of our 
 mutual affections, still remained. She was to me what yours was 
 to you, next to God, my only hope — all my source of conso- 
 lation. Property to a large amount had been limited to the 
 separate use of the child by her mother's friends. Had it 
 pleased the Lord to spare her to me, she would have been the 
 delight of my life, and the joy of my heart j but the Lord 
 ordained otherwise, and took her to himself in three months 
 from the mother's death. By the death of the child the property 
 limited to her separate use reverted to the original donors, and 
 I was left a widower, childless, desolate, and destitute. Thus 
 ends my tale of woe. I now appeal to you if mine be not a 
 weightier affliction than yours ?" " Truly, yours," replied the 
 gallant Captain, " is an extreme instance of human affliction, but 
 go on, and let me hear the sequel. I am all attention." " I have 
 told you all, I have nothing more to add," was the reply. 
 " Being left in Dublin desolate and pemuless, I contrived to 
 support myself for some time by preparing students for the Uni- 
 
184 THE TUTOR 
 
 versity ; but my health giving way, I yielded to the advice of 
 my medical attendant in accepting an invitation from a Eeverend 
 ' rector, residing near the Bay of Donegal, with whom I have re- 
 sided for the last three months, and am, like yourself, bovmd for 
 Dublin by the six o'clock coach to-morrow morning. I now ask 
 you to reflect and compare your lot with mine ; when you do so, I 
 am sure you will learn to be content, and bless that God who has 
 left you so many sources of consolation wholly denied to others. 
 You, as well as I, are still in the zenith of Hfe. You have a wife 
 who loves you, and who has made so many personal sacrifices to 
 prove the sincerity of her love. You will kindly excuse me when 
 I teU you that when you talk of death, and of resigning yourself 
 wholly to despair, you pay but a poor compliment to the mother 
 of your beloved daughter, who has been for life your partner in 
 sickness and sorrow, and has travelled nearly from pole to pole 
 to prove the sincerity of her love, and to contribute to your pre- 
 sent comforts ; let me then implore of you to resign yourself to 
 the win of your Heavenly Bather. In depriving you of your 
 child, no doubt a Merciful Eedeemer meant this deprivation as 
 a blessing, not an affiction. The Lord saw that your daughter 
 was the idol of your soul, occupying that place that He requires 
 should be exclusively reserved and wholly consecrated to himself. 
 The Lord tells us ' that He is a jealous God, who will not accept 
 a divided aflfection ;' He will have all or none ; therefore, He has 
 taken your child entirely to himself, and thus removed the 
 stumbling-block out of the way of your own eternal salvation. 
 
 " I repeat, then, be content and happy ; a great moral duty now 
 devolves upon you ; you are a gentleman of rank, talent, and 
 fortune ; you will be soon placed at the head of a poor and 
 numerous tenantry ; remember that these, however humble, are 
 God's people, as well as you, that you are morally bound to treat. 
 
AND STUDEKT. 185 
 
 them as such — to consider them as your own children, rather 
 than your vassals ; reward the good — reform the bad — ^reform 
 them by example, as well as by precept ; raise the poor serf 
 from his present degraded position to his proper rank in the 
 moral scale ; impress upon his mind a just sense of the moral 
 dignity of independence ; that he must not look for support or 
 aid to this or that man, but to place all his hopes on God and 
 his own honest exertions. Would to God I could practise what 
 I preach ; but God ordains otherwise ; this privilege is reserved 
 for a few favoured men, like yourself ; ' pacui quos eqitus amavit 
 J'Ujpiter.' MnaUy, let me exhort you to make the best use of 
 the talents intrusted to your care, that when the Great Accounting 
 Day arrives, you may be deemed worthy of a higher trust, and 
 a more glorious privilege." 
 
 When the Student ceased, the Captain affectionately pressed 
 his hand, and thus addressed him : — 
 
 " My dear frieiid, I feel the full force of your burning words ; 
 they have entered deep into my soul ; may they work in me that 
 moral change of which I feel in myself so much in need ! Already 
 they inspire me with fresh hope and new motives for renewed 
 exertion j but I feel the excitement is too much for you and me. 
 Let us, therefore, change the subject for the present ; at another 
 time we will resume it, when our minds are- less excited, and 
 our feelings more subdued." 
 
 At this moment the waiter entered the room with the supper, 
 ordered in the early part of the night. It being now nearly 
 twelve o'clock, the Captain and the Student seated themselves at 
 the supper table, when the former observed : 
 
 " I feel a wish to eat a bit of supper, — 'tis the first time for 
 many days that I have had this inclination : your words have 
 produced this eifect. Oh ! I owe you a debt which no words can 
 
186 THE TUTOE 
 
 express ; perhaps at a future day I may give some practical proof 
 of my gratitude." 
 
 The Student expressed his sincere delight at the eflfect of this 
 long conversation upon the mind of his friend, and both enjoyed 
 the repast with a zest to which they had long been strangers. 
 
 Supper being ended, the conversation took a more animated 
 turn, and the Captain entertained the Student with an interesting 
 and romantic sketch of the Vale of Cashmere — ^the Emperor — 
 his Court — 'Seraglio, &c. ; and the night might have insensibly 
 passed on listeping to the gallant Captain's Eastern tales, had 
 not the servant entered the room, asked the gentlemen if they 
 wanted anything, as it was then one o'clock, considerably later 
 than his usual hour of going to bed; to which the Captain 
 replied : 
 
 " Never mind, you will be no loser by your attention, but be 
 sure you call us at five o'clock in the morning, and let us have 
 our coffee between five and sis." 
 
 The Captain and Student then arose, and cordially wishing 
 each other good night, retired to their respective rooms. 
 
 The Captain slept sound, but not so his friend ; he could 
 preach but not practise, and passed a restless night ruminating 
 on past scenes of domestic affliction ; he arose between four and 
 five o'clock, and softly opening the bedroom door of his friend, 
 found him in a sound sleep which he was unwilling to 
 interrupt, but made the necessary preliminary arrangements for 
 his own departure, and was quite dressed when the servant 
 entered the room at five o'clock, bringing at the same time some 
 coffee and toast upon a tray, which the Student took into the . 
 bedroom of the Captain, who that instant opened his eyes and 
 wished his friend good morning, adding, that he had had an ex- 
 cellent night's rest, and hoping the Student had the same. This ' 
 
AND STnDEUT. 187 
 
 question, however, the latter avoided, but filling out a cup of 
 coffee, said — "Come, my friend, take this, it is sure to do 
 
 you good, and can do you no harm ; only fancy you are 
 enjoying the shirbet of Cashmere." "You are too good; — 
 I feel much better; — many thanks for aU your kindness." 
 These words were hardly spoken, when the Captain, swallowing 
 his coffee, jumped out of bed, and was dressed in a few minutes. 
 Here all seemed bustle and confusion in front of the Inn, with 
 passengers running to and fro ; crossing and jostling each other 
 on every side; some bearing portmanteaus, some trunks and 
 
 , travelling bags ; others running to secure good seats on the 
 roof of the coach. 
 
 This was the golden age of stage-coach travelling- — when at 
 such an early hour groups of people assembled on every side to 
 witness the starting of the coach. It was quite a scene ; only 
 they who recollect those days can form an adequate idea of the 
 excitement on such occasions. But such scenes are now like a 
 tale that is told, — ^they have vanished like a mist before the 
 rising sun, to be succeeded by railways, steam coaches, electric 
 wires — those miracles of the nineteenth century, that seem to 
 annihilate space, to overleap distance, to realize the visions of 
 Aladdin, to enable the adventurous sons of man " to take the 
 wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the 
 sea," — but whether these wondrous effects of steam as applied 
 to locomotion were for the better or worse — calculated or not to 
 promote the material comforts of the human race — are questions 
 which we leave to the consideration of persons more practically 
 conversant with such matters than we profess ourselves to be : 
 but that stage coaches possessed many advantages, afforded 
 employment to a vast number of hands, and contributed to the 
 health and happiness of thousands, are facts' that cannot be 
 
J 88 THE TUTOR 
 
 questioned ; — ^that they were also free from that wholesale de- 
 struction of human life, so frequent since the establishment of 
 railways, is no less evident. On the other hand, those vehieles 
 were not without their inconveniences and drawbacks, some of 
 which resulted from the slowness and uncertainty of their progress ; 
 others from the unseemly squabbles that so frequently occurred 
 between passengers on their journeys, owing to the numerous 
 stoppages at the different stages : these were matters of minor 
 importance ; nevertheless, for the benefit of the curious reader 
 we shall briefly sketch one, in which the Captain and Student 
 were forced to act a prominent part in their journey from 
 Strabane to Dublin, and which constitutes the subject of the 
 following chapter. 
 
AND STUDENT. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Smaok went the whip, round went the wheels, 
 
 Were never folk so glad ; 
 The stones did rattle underneath, 
 
 As if Cheapside were mad. — Cowpbk. 
 
 'TwAS now but one minute to six o'clock, a.m. ; the mail 
 was upon tte point of starting ; the Captain and Student had 
 secured the seat on the roof of the coach immediately behind ihe 
 coachman ; and the box-seat was occupied by a student of college, 
 goii<g to attend his examination ; the trumpet now sounded the 
 signal for departure, and the blooded leaders in their impatience 
 to start, were pawing the ground, and manifested other symptoms 
 of impatience ; at length the clock struck six, when the coach- 
 man, a most important personage, with a rubicund face and 
 broad-brimmed white hat, seized the flowing reins, and bowing 
 gracefully to the smiling faces that crowded the neighbouring 
 windows at that early hour, to witness his departure, lashed his 
 whip and was off at full galop ; neither did the steeds relax 
 their speed until they reached the foot of a hill, distant about a 
 quarter of a mile from the point of starting. 
 
 The morning was fine, but the wind began gradually to rise, not 
 qaite to the satisfaction of the Student, who was in a deUcate state 
 
190 THE TUTOR 
 
 of health ; more especially as the gentleman who occupied the box- 
 seat next the coachman began to smoke a cigar, the fumes of 
 which the wind blew straight into the face of the Student, which 
 set Tn'm coughing ; he, accordingly told the gentleman that 'he 
 had got a severe cold, and that the smell of smoke was very 
 annoying to him ; and therefore, asked him as a favor either to 
 give over smoking or change places with himself: of this request 
 the CoUegian took no notice, but continued to smoke on. The 
 Studeut now felt so much annoyed, that he peremptoi-ily ordered 
 the gentleman to leave off smoking, to which the CoUegian 
 answered, — 
 
 " Sir, I shall not sacrifice my pleasure to your convenience." 
 The Student coolly replied, " Oh, then it comes to this, that 
 you are no gentleman, but " — 
 
 " But what ?" interrupted the Collegian. 
 " But a scoundrel," was the reply. 
 
 The hasty word was no sooner uttered than repented of, and 
 the Student felt disposed to retract ; but the Captain said, — 
 
 " No, you have called him by his right name, and as a 
 gentleman, you cannot unsay what you have said. Should he 
 demand satisfaction on our return to Dublin, I am ready to 
 stand your friend ; but don't be alarmed, the fellow will pocket 
 the offence : of this you may rest assured. I never yet knew a 
 scoundrel in this world wjio was not also a coward." 
 
 AH this was said in the hearing of, the Collegian, but he took 
 no notice, — made no reply, but continued to puff his smoke in 
 the face of the Student. AU this time the horses were galloping 
 at the top of their speed ; but having come to an angle in the 
 road that diverged from the main line, the Student was relieved 
 from the smoke nuisance, the wiad blowing it from him to the 
 Captain, who had the same objection to be smoked out as his 
 
AND STUDENT. 191 
 
 friend : suddenly the Student turned round, and observed a spark 
 to light from the cigar on the eyelash of his gallant friend ; 
 the latter applying his handkerchief to his face, cried out 
 with a loud voice, " Coachman, stop — ^buE up !" The latter 
 instantly obeyed ; then turning to the Collegian, he cried out, 
 " Now, scoundrel, take that cigar out of your mouth this very 
 
 instant, or by , I shall precipitate you from that seat on the 
 
 ■wheels of the coach." The Captain was about to suit the action 
 to the word, when the Collegian relieved him from the necessity 
 by obeying his orders, and putting his cigar into a case, returned 
 it quietly to the side pocket of his top-coat ; but the wrath of the 
 Captaia was not appeased, his eye stiU smarted with pain — so 
 turning to the Student he said, " Did I not tell you the fellow 
 was a coward." He then opened upon the ill-fated wight a tornado 
 of invective, which for sarcasm and bitterness of expression we 
 never heard equalled. The Collegian attempted a retort, but in 
 vain; he was no match for the Captain at this species of logic, who 
 confounded and overwhelmed him by the torrents of abuse that 
 he poured upon his devoted head. For the rest of the journey 
 the Collegian remained a perfect mute ; but not so the Captain, 
 who feeling still the effects of the cigar, returned to the charge 
 again and again, without pity or compunction, until he rendered 
 the iH-fated Collegian a butt of ridicule to every passenger in the 
 coach : this scene lasted until the coach reached Dublin. 
 
 The effect upon the Collegian was very serious ; the account of 
 his disgraceful conduct, aggravated by his cowardice, soon reached 
 his college class. This was more than he could bear. The conse- 
 quence was, that, feeling ashamed to show his face among his club, 
 he took private lodgings for the night, returned to the country 
 again the following morning, and lost his examination. What 
 happened to him in after-life we never heard, but most probably 
 
192 THE TDTOB 
 
 his prospects were ever after more or less affected by the scene 
 that we have sketched. This should serve as a useful warning to 
 young gentlemen in their progress through life, to be more accom- 
 modating to the wants of their fellow-travellers upon the road— ^ 
 always to act upon the Christian maxim of doing unto others as 
 they would be done by, and never to forget the wisdom of the 
 proverb, " A kind word turneth away wrath." 
 
 Scenes such as we have, described were among the common- 
 place annoyances of stage-coach travelling. Robberies of the 
 mail, aggravated by the murder of the coachman, guard, and 
 not unfrequently of the passengers themselves — ^were of no rare 
 occurrence ; when to these we add the slowness of the coach, 
 the delays on the road, occasioned by the drunkenness of the 
 coachman ; the frequent upsets of the vehicles ; the falling and 
 restiveness of the horses — we own ourselves not of the number 
 of those who regret the slow coaches of olden times ; but we 
 profess ourselves of that party who would impress upon the 
 railway directors of modem days the wisdom of the old 
 proverb, " Medina lente " or who would rather impress upon our 
 legislators the necessity of enacting some more stringent laws 
 than at present exist for the preservation of the lives and limbs 
 of Her Majesty's subjects. Certainly nothing could be easier 
 than the passing of a law which would visit not only with a 
 fine, but imprisonment — and in some extreme cases with 
 transportation for life — all those through whose instrumentality 
 or neglect human life should have been sacrificed — such punish- 
 ment not to be limited to the sub-agent, but to be extended also 
 to the proprietor — to the master as well as the man — -to the 
 jack-in-oflSce seated in the directors' chair, and puffed up with 
 imaginary importance — as well as to the poor guard or stoker, 
 obliged to keep a wife and family on £1 5«. per week. 
 
AND STUDENT. 193 
 
 In concluding our remarks on this subject, we must express 
 our sincere conviction, that, until either the railways be entirely- 
 placed under Government control, or a law passed to attach the 
 heads of the companies, as well as the subordinate agents; and 
 this not only by a pecuniary fine, which they care little about, and 
 which falls the lighter on individuals as being shared equally by 
 aU the company ; but by terms of imprisonment proportioned to 
 their misconduct or neglect, and in some extreme cases, as before 
 suggested, by transportation for life. 
 
 We repeat that, until the passing of some such law, railway 
 travelling must be always attended with imminent danger, and 
 the lives of millions of our countrymen and coimtrywomen kept 
 in constant jeopardy, as being placed whoEy at the mercy of an 
 avaricious and irresponsible body of men, who in their insatiable 
 thirst to " search out the things of Esau," do not hesitate to 
 profane the Sabbath — to jeopardize the souls as well as the 
 bodies of men ; and all this with perfect impunity, without incur- 
 ring any of those penal consequences, which should attach to 
 conduct so fatal to the lives of the people, and so subversive of the 
 morals of a Christian community. Let us hope that some master 
 mind may at length arise to grapple with this monster grievance, 
 and to place the railway system upon a sure and solid foundation. 
 The name of such a man would go down to posterity, justly 
 considered the great benefactor of his country. The great and 
 generous Boman conferred a civic crown on him who saved in 
 battle the life of an individual citizen ; but what adequate reward 
 can be bestowed upon the man who could pass an act, the effects 
 of which must be not only to save the lives of thousands, but to 
 contribute to their temporal as well as spiritual welfare ? We 
 leave it to our countrymen to answer this question, and thus con- 
 clude our few general remarks on this all-important subject. 
 
 o 
 
194 THE TUTOE 
 
 On the arrival of the Captain and Student in Dublin, they 
 retired to a hotel, where they partook of some refreshment, after 
 which the Captain addressed his Mend, as follows : — 
 
 " You and I are now on the point of parting ; but let me hope, 
 only to meet again, and that frequently ; — ^never can I forget 
 the scene of the last night ; it will ever live green in my recol- 
 lection as one of the happiest of my life. On entering the inn 
 at Strabane, you found me, like the poor deluded victim, in 
 ' Pollock's Course of Time,' a man without hope, standing on the 
 verge of a precipice, ready to make the fatal plunge ; you wrested 
 the dagger from my hand ; inspired me with fresh hopes and new 
 motives for existence, and reconciled me to that life of which I was 
 growing weary : what return can I make for all this kindness ? 
 an adequate return 'tis quite out of my power to make ; never- 
 theless, my feelings prompt me to give some practical proof of 
 my gratitude, and I wish to give free scope to such an impulse ; 
 but time presses, and I must be brief. Tou have not acquainted 
 me with the circumstances of your case, but from all I have 
 heard, I can have no difficulty in inferring that your finances 
 cannot be in a very flourishing condition, at the present time; 
 on the other hand, mine are comparatively ample, at least 
 sufficiently so to admit of my paying a compliment to an 
 invaluable friend; wiU you then excuse this long preamble, 
 and niake me your banker on the present occasion, by accepting 
 this smaU token of my friendship " (presenting a cheque for a 
 considerable amount) ; " the only return I can ever expect is the 
 fi-iendship of a man to whom I feel so deeply indebted." 
 
 To this the Student replied : — 
 
 " My dear friend, I trust 1 feel duly sensible of your kindness, 
 and fuUy capable of appreciating the generosity and disinterested- 
 ness that prompted it ; but in your new relation as landed 
 
AND STUDENT. 195 
 
 proprietor, you will soon have ample scope for the develop- 
 ment of your high moral quaUtiea, and a drain upon your 
 purse, to which I fear your resources, however ample, may not 
 be always adequate ; you are alDOut to be placed over a 
 poor tenantry, who wiU naturally look to you for relief in their 
 difficulties ; the more freely you give, the more you will have to 
 give, and therefore seK-preservation will soon suggest to you the 
 necessity of moderating your natural generosity by prudential 
 considerations, and placing some check on your giving pro- 
 pensities, else by-and-by you may have nothing to give. At 
 all events, your tenants have the first claim on you, second 
 only to that of your immediate relatives. As for myself, I can 
 have no claim whatever ; you are kind enough to talk of my dis- 
 interested advice, but you seem to forget that I have got 
 as much as I gave : that I am as much your debtor as you are 
 mine, and that the balance being even, the account is settled 
 between us ; let me then request of you, — I speak with unfeigned 
 gratitude — to reserve your favors for those who have a prior 
 claim on you. You are quite right in your inference in regard 
 to the state of my finances ; nevertheless, so long as God affords 
 me health and strength, I trust I shall be able to get an 
 honourable living by my literary attainments, and that I have 
 too high a sense of moral independence to stand in the way 
 of your bounty, to those who have a stronger claim to it. I 
 shall be always happy to see you at my chambers in College, 
 — should your engagements admit of your visiting so humble a 
 person as myself, — and never shall I forget the happy night that 
 I passed in your company at the inn at Strabane." " Do you 
 then decline to accept a favor from me ?" " A pecuniary favor I 
 certainly do decline." " Then allow me at least to present you 
 with this," — taking a gold ring from his finger and handing it to 
 
 o2 
 
196 THE TCTOE 
 
 the Student ; — " this I trust "you will not refuse; I value it much, 
 therefore I present it to you — it contains a profile of myself mth 
 my crest and arms, — may I hope that it wiH serve as a lasting 
 memorial of our friendship ?" " This I accept with gratitude, 
 and shall preserve with care ; I only regret I cannot make an 
 adequate return, but all I can offer is the humble tribute of a 
 grateful heart; should you think this worth your acceptance, 
 'tis quite at your service." " I do accept it," said the gallant 
 Captain, " as the most valuable present you can bestow." 
 
 This conversation lasted nearly an hour; and might have 
 been prolonged for another, had not the sound of the trum- 
 pet annoimced that the Kilkenny coach was about to start. 
 The Captain and his friend instantly arose, when the former 
 quickly entered the coach, pressed the hand of his friend, and 
 had only time to say, " Farewell, you may expect to hear from me 
 in a few days," when the horses were off at full gallop, and both 
 horses and coach were out of sight in a moment. This ended 
 the scene between the Captain and Student. To some this episode 
 may seem frivolous, to others inconsistent ; but this we cannot 
 help ; we are ^merely the chroniclers of events as they have 
 occurred, and which, though uninteresting and insipid to others, 
 were full of exciting interest to the Captain and his friend ; 
 besides, in the great drama of human life, were such little 
 incidents omitted — ' life's poor play ' would be soon over, and 
 few could wish to wait the last act ; but God in his infinite 
 wisdom, to reconcile man to his present sublunary state, and to 
 remove all temptations to indolence or despondence, has mixed 
 up several degrees of pleasure and pain with the objects by 
 which we are sunounded, and has implanted in the heart of man 
 the principle of hope and the love of domestic happiness, 
 without which, human life would be nothing better than a 
 
AND STUDENT. 197 
 
 dreary waste, a howliug wilderness, and man himself " a world 
 without a sun." This idea has been well expressed by the 
 author of " The Pleasures of Hope" in the following inimitable 
 lines : — 
 
 " Say, what without our hopes, without our fears, 
 Without that home that plighted love endears, 
 Without the smile from partial beauty won ; 
 Oh ! what were map : a world without a sun ?" 
 
19S THE TUTOK 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 The purest treasure mortal times afford 
 
 Is — spotless reputation ; that away, 
 
 Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. — Shakespeabe. 
 
 We are now come to the last chapter, with which we are 
 about to close " this strange eventful history" of the 
 Student. May it prove an instructive one, from which a 
 moral lesson may be drawn, conducive to the public good — 
 useful to the rising generation. The contents of this chapter 
 being matters of fact which have come under the immediate 
 observation of the Student, and iu which he has been the prin- 
 cipal actor, we propose to give them, such as they have occurred, 
 to our readers, in their own naked simplicity, divested of all 
 flowers of rhetoric, or ornaments of diction. This course we 
 pursue from a conviction that by letting truth tell her own 
 unvarnished tale, the more interesting wUl be the tale, the more 
 impressive the doctrine, and the sounder the moral to be 
 deduced from the teaching. With these few prefatory re- 
 marks, we again resume the thread of our narrative. 
 
 The Student, on his arrival in Dublin, took temporary 
 lodgings in the immediate vicinity of the College, hoping, 
 through the influence of his friends, to get some private pupils 
 to prepare for entrance, or to work up for their quarterly 
 examinations. He had already met with some success in this 
 line of busiuess, and was now resolved to renew his former 
 occupation ; but a literary connection once broken is not easily 
 recovered in such a place as Dublin. There the competitors for 
 
AND STUDENT. 199 
 
 employment are innumerable; when one man retires from 
 business, tbere are hundreds, nay, thousands, ready to take 
 his place ; so the Student had now no alternative left In'tn but 
 to submit to the common lot, to 'bide his time, and wait the 
 course of events. Three months passed, and not a pupil came 
 in. This time he chiefly spent in the society of his Dublin 
 friends, by many of whom he was at first well received, so long 
 as they thought him independent ; but the instant they dis- 
 covered his difl5.culties, they soon changed their manner, and their 
 friendship was limited to expressions of sympathy, which,however, 
 soon degenerated into contempt. The Student, on his return to 
 Dublin, had written, according to promise, to his Eeverend 
 friend of the Eectory, with whom he carried on an occasional 
 correspondence for some time; but a circumstance occurred 
 which caused a temporary suspension of their correspondence. 
 It will be recollected that the Student, in quitting the Eectory, 
 made a particular promise to his Reverend friend in reference to 
 his son, i.e., to let him know, should he see or hear that this 
 son had renewed his acquaintance with a certain disreputable 
 character in Dublin. Little did he imagine, in making this 
 promise, that he should soon be called on to fulfil it. Unfor- 
 tunately, however, such proved to be the fact ; as he not only 
 heard that the young man was in the constant habit of walking 
 about in the company of the individual against whom he was 
 cautioned, but he himself actually met them together on several 
 occasions. This left him no alternative but to acquaint the 
 father with the circumstance. His letter was strictly private 
 and confidential, and contained a request that he should not 
 acquaint his son with its contents. With this request, how- 
 ever, his Eeverend friend did not comply, but told the son aU. 
 This he candidly acknowledged in his answer to the Student, 
 
200 THE TUTOK 
 
 adding at the same time that the son took the letter in good 
 part, convinced that it was dictated by a kind intention. Such, 
 however, was not the fact : the effect of the letter was to inflame 
 the mind of the young man with the most inveterate animosity 
 against the Student, and to put an end to any further intercourse 
 between the latter and his former kind and Eeverend friend. 
 
 But a crisis now occurred in the Student's affairs, — he owed 
 several small debts, for which he was sorely pressed, besides a 
 Sum of £10 for lodgings, for the payment of which he was denied 
 all indulgence ; under these circumstances he felt no alternative 
 left him but to submit his case to his former friend the Eector, 
 and to ask for the loan of a small sum to extricate him from his 
 difficulties. The return of post brought an answer from his Ee- 
 verendfriend, fuU of unfeigned kindness and sympathy, from which 
 we take the following extract : — " I need not, I trust, assure yo« 
 how happy I should be to meet yourwishes on the present occasion, 
 if in my power to do so ; but the honest truth of the case is, I and 
 my family have been living entirely on credit for the last two 
 months ; but if you will be so good as to call at the Castle of 
 Dublin, and ascertain when the Eectors are to be paid their share 
 of the million (money advanced by the Government at the time, 
 for the benefit of the distressed Eectors), when I get paid my 
 part I shall be most happy to give you the accommodation you 
 require. But in the meantime, if you would show this letter to 
 your landlord, it might save you from any further persecution 
 from him, until I can conveniently advance you the money that 
 you want. Ever yours affectionately, — J. W." 
 
 The Student lost no time in showing this letter to his land- 
 lord, who feeling himself quite safe, ceased his persecutions, and 
 willingly agreed to give the Student the time he required ; but 
 the Eector's son had no idea of the correspondence going on 
 
AND STUDENT. 201 
 
 between his father and the Student, thinking that all inter- 
 course had long ceased between them. — A few days after this 
 the Student obtained an engagement as resident Tutor to prepare 
 the son of the Honourable Mr. S — , of Co. Tyrone, for his 
 quarterly examination. This was quite a God-send under the 
 circumstances of his case, and he lost no time in setting off for 
 the North of Ireland, to undertake it. During his residence in 
 the house of Mr. S — , the Student afforded great satisfaction, 
 but the engagement was not of long duration, being put an end 
 to in about four months after being formed, by the unexpected 
 death of the Student's father, who on his demise left him a 
 j)roperty heavily incumbered.with £300 in cash. Immediately on 
 receipt of this melancholy intelligence, the Student returned to 
 Dublin, in order to complete some necessary arrangements in 
 reference to the incumbered estate bequeathed to him. And some 
 time after his return to Dublin, for the sake of society and con- 
 Tersation, he became a member of a literary circle then existing 
 in Dublin, composed of ladies as well as gentlemen, who held 
 their meetings occasionally at the houses of the different mem- 
 bers, where all the new publications of the day were criticised, 
 and literary questions of every sort freely discussed. Of this 
 society the Student soon became an active and popular speaker. 
 Among the lady members was one of considerable property, who 
 seemed to manifest a decided partiality for the Student ; the 
 latter feeling himself thus favored, was not slow to make ad- 
 vances to the lady, which were so favorably received, that in- 
 structions were given to a solicitor to prepare deeds of settle- 
 ment ; — all preliminary arrangements were being completed, and 
 a day was actually appointed for the marriage. 
 
 It has been truly said that many things happen between the 
 cup and the lip ; and in inatrimonial alliances, circumstances 
 
202 THE TUTOR 
 
 often occui of so extraordinary a character that they seem to 
 afford some ground for the popular superstition, that " there is 
 destiny in marriage — that what is to be will be, and vice versa." 
 Of this case the student afforded a singular exemplification. We 
 must now inform our readers that at this critical time the 
 Eector's son, the Student's former pupil and his present tenemy, 
 came to Dublin to attend his examination, and actually 
 stopped at the Student's former lodgings, where the latter stiE 
 owed a sum of money, as already stated. The landlord in- 
 quired, naturally enough, of the young gentleman, when he 
 heard from his former friend, the Student. " My friend !" 
 repeated the young man indignantly, " he is no friend of mine ; 
 I consider him an enemy and a scoundrel." " How is this ?" 
 . observed the man ; " if he be not your friend, he is a friend of 
 your father's, which comes to the same thing ; at least, he owes 
 me £10, and has shown me a letter from your father to him, 
 offering to lend him this sum to pay me, as soonj as your 
 father gets paid his share of the million advanced for the relief 
 of the Eectors." " Has he shown you such a letter as this ?" 
 " He certainly has." " Then," exclaimed the young gentleman, 
 " I pronounce this letter a deliberate forgery of my father's name, 
 and a fraud upon the public.'' " Tou astonish me 1" said the 
 landlord ; "if he be such a character as you represent him, I 
 think you are in duty bound to warn the public against such 
 imposition." To this the gentleman assented. Accordingly, 
 aided and assisted by the landlord, he drew up an advertise- 
 ment, headed " Caution to the Public," of which the following 
 is a copy : — 
 
 " Whereas, a person calling himself P. J. N. has been for 
 some time in the habit of showing a letter with a view of 
 raising money, which he alleges to have been written to him by 
 
AND STUDENT. 203 
 
 the Eev. J. W., of M Glebe, County of Donegal. This is 
 
 to give notice, that no such letter has been written by the said 
 Rev. J. W. to the said P. J. N." 
 
 This letter appeared in " Saunders' News-Letter," a paper of 
 considerable circulation, on Friday morning. 
 
 The Student's marriage was to take place the following week, 
 and the thoughts and preparations for the occasion so engrossed 
 his time, and wholly absorbed every other consideration, as to 
 leave him not a single moment disengaged to look at a newspaper. 
 His intended bride had been staying out of town for a few days 
 with her friends, and the Student neither saw nor heard a 
 word of his public disgrace, but on Saturday evening, after the 
 advertisement appeared. He paid a visit to a friend, a member of 
 the Literary Society referred to, residing in Merrion Square, with 
 whom he had been on habits of close intimacy. He entered the 
 drawing-room without any ceremony — took a seat for a few 
 moments — appeared quite abstracted, merely observing "that he 
 purposed breakfasting with his intended in the country the follow- 
 ing day." His friends instantly attributed his silence to the effects 
 of the advertisement upon his spirits, rather than to the true cause, 
 viz., the important change about to take place in a few days in his 
 condition and circumstances in life : however, they thought it 
 strange that he made no allusion whatever to the advertisement, 
 which they were prevented by feelings of delicacy from com- 
 municating to him. At length he could hear the lady ask 
 her husband in an under-voice, but with great earnestness of 
 manner, " Have you told him of it ?" " No." " Then do so 
 instantly !" The gentleman accordingly, addressing the Student, 
 asked " if he had seen ' Saunders' News-Letter ' of the pre- 
 ceding day— that it contained something gravely involving his 
 character." "My character !" repeated the Student; "what can 
 
204 THE TUTOE 
 
 it be ? What can any one say against my character?" The gen- 
 tleman told him all. At first the Student felt so perfectly 
 astounded, as to be deprived of all power of utterance. 
 
 The effect upon his feelings no language can express ; he 
 threw himself for a moment upon the sofa, but rising in an 
 instant, said, " Please tell your servant to order a cab and come 
 with me instantly to the office of ' Saunders' News-Letter.' " 
 
 The gentleman complied, and he and his friend drove up in 
 a few moments to the office of the " News-Letter," where they 
 purchased the paper of the preceding day, and found the adver- 
 tisement precisely as represented. 
 
 " Now," said the Student to his friend, " my character hangs 
 upon a single hair. If I have preserved the Sector's letter to me, 
 I am safe ; if not, I am a ruined man for life. Come now with 
 me to my lodgings ; let me search if I have got the letter." 
 
 Not a moment was lost ; the Student ordered to drive quickly 
 to his lodgings — searched for the Eector's letter, and fortvinately 
 found it. 
 
 " Now," said he to his friend, " let my matrimonial specula- 
 tions turn out as they may, my character is safe ; you return as 
 soon as possible, and tell Mrs. C — all. I do not wish she should 
 entertain, even for an instant, any doubtful opinion as to my 
 character as a gentleman, and a man of honor." 
 
 His friend instantly departed, highly gratified; whereupon 
 the Student proceeded. direct to the house of his attorney, where 
 a regular scene took place. 
 
 The attorney, who had seen the advertisement, came to a conclu- 
 sion that it was true, and quite forgot his former courtesy to his 
 client ; therefore, when the Student called at his house and asked 
 to see him, the answer returned was, that " he was not in the 
 habit of seeing any one on business at so late an hour." 
 
AND STUDENT. 205 
 
 " Then you may tell him," repKed the Student, " that he 
 must see me, and that instantly." 
 
 The message being delivered, the man of law soon made his 
 appearance, when the Student, pointing to the office-door, said, 
 '' Enter there, sir, instantly, and receive my orders. I ask you for 
 no favor ; you are engaged in my business ; you are my servant 
 for the time being, and, therefore, you must obey my orders." 
 
 These words were uttered with a stem determination, that so 
 overawed the attorney, that in an instant he was all submission. 
 
 " I dare say," continued the Student, " that you have seen an 
 advertisement in the ' Saunders' ' of yesterday in reference to me." 
 The attorney nodded assent. "And of course, to this circumstance 
 I am to attribute your insolence to me ; but, as an attorney, you 
 should know that the laws of England presume every man to be 
 innocent, until the contrary be proved ; but you, as an attorney, 
 have jumped to a conclusion as to my guilt, on the authority of 
 an advertisement in a newspaper, without a particle of evidence 
 to sustain the foul charge ? But I must not waste my precious 
 time in bandying words with you ; I now ask you what you 
 would think if I could produce the letter that I am charged 
 with forging." " I should be better pleased by it," answered 
 the lawyer, " than if you were to make me a present of five hundred 
 pounds." " Sir,'' replied the Student, " I care not a straw for 
 your opinion ; I only care for my own reputation ; but there is the 
 letter," — placing the Kector's letter on the table. The attorney 
 having glanced at the letter, suddenly became as cringing and 
 sycophantic as he had before been insolent ; but the Student 
 cut him short with the observation — " What is now to be done ? 
 What is the best course to pursue ?" " I think," replied the 
 attorney, "that your best course is to see your friend, 
 Mr. P — , of Merrion Square, to-morrow morning, and to 
 
206 THE TUTOR 
 
 consult him on the point ; he will tell you what is best to be 
 done." "'What is to prevent my seeing him this very night?" 
 '.' "lis now too late, and there is no chance of seeing him at such 
 an hour." " At all events, I shall try." 
 
 Havittg thus spoken, the Student took up the letter of the 
 Eector, and putting it into his pocket wished the attorney 
 good night, and proceeded direct to Merrion Square. The 
 King's Counsel was preparing to retire for the night when the 
 Student knocked at his door; but the kind and learned gentleman, 
 on receiving the Student's message, instantly came down to 
 learn the nature of his business at so late an hour. The Stu- 
 dent in a few words told him the pressing nature of the case ; 
 on hearing which the counsel observed, " This seems to me to 
 be a dispute between two gentlemen ; I hardly think it a case for 
 the interference of counsel. Gentlemen usually adopt other 
 means of settling such disputes." " I hardly understand 
 your suggestion," said the Student ; " you surely don't mean 
 to insinuate that the injured party should appeal to arms 
 in a case where he has been publicly branded by his adver- 
 sary as a swindler apd an impostor. I want you, sir, to 
 answer me two questions : Firstly — Is the advertisement 
 a libel? Secondly — If so, what is my remedy?" "To the 
 first question," said the learned counsel, " I have no hesitation 
 in answering in the af&rmative. As to the second, your best 
 course is to call at the office of the paper in the morning, and 
 demand the author of the Ubel ; should the Eector be the author, 
 your action is against the Eector : — ^if his son, your action is 
 against him ; but should the Editor refuse to give up the name 
 of the author, your action is against the Editor himself." " All 
 this I understand perfectly well," said the Student; "but the 
 machinery of the law is not so soon put in motion, and three 
 
AND STTJDENT. 207 
 
 montlis may elapse before the case can be submitted to a jury . 
 in the mean time— naturally inclined to believe the worst — my 
 character and prospects will be irretrievably ruined. I want 
 to know, is there no immediate remedy — no immediate means 
 of meeting the charge ? Is there any objection to my pub- 
 lishing the Eector's letter in ' the Saunders' of to-morrow ?" 
 " I think not," answered counsel ; " and this seems the only 
 feasible remedy under the circumstances ; this being done, you 
 may then commence your action for Ubel against the author of the 
 advertisement." This ended the interview between counsel and 
 Student. The latter presented the learned gentleman a purse 
 as a fee, containing one hundred guineas ; but this the counsel 
 generously declined, adding, " I shall be happy to take you 
 through this affair, but only on condition that you never again offer 
 me money, which I must decidedly dedline to accept." The 
 Student then apologized for his intrusion at so late an hour, but 
 the counsel kindly replied " that the circumstances of the case 
 rendered any apology superfluous." 
 
 This ended the interview between counsel and Student, which 
 impressed the latter with the greatest respect for the high cha- 
 racter of his learned friend, who has been since elevated to the 
 bench, to which he has proved himself one of its brightest orna- 
 ments. Having returned to his lodgings, the Student, by advice of 
 counsel, addressed a letter to the editor of " Saunders' News- 
 Letter," enclosing a copy of the Eector's letter to himself, the 
 original, as he stated, being in the hands of his solicitor — and 
 demanding the author of the libellous advertisement. The 
 Editor instantly gave up the Eector's son as the author. Here we 
 must observe, that, on the first appearance of the advertisement, 
 the Student had a communication from the solicitor of the lady 
 to whom he was about to be united, to the effect that, owing to 
 
208 THE TUTOE 
 
 recent circumstances, the lady, in accordance with the advice of 
 her friends, had changed her mind as to altering her condition 
 in life, and requesting of the Student to think no more of her ; 
 but having seen the Student's public answer to the imputed 
 charge, she changed her mind, and vprote him a very kind 
 letter, congratulating him on the triumphant vindication of his 
 character, and consenting to a renewal of their former engage- 
 ment. This, however, the Student respectfully declined, 
 adding that she, like others, had come to a premature con- 
 clusion as to his guilt, without any evidence to warrant such an 
 inference ; and therefore, that he felt himself precluded by a 
 principle of honor, from thinking any more of a lady who, 
 without any cause, should think him capable of such dishonor- 
 able conduct. By pursuing this course, the Student, in an 
 instant, flung wealth and fortune to the winds, preferring to 
 fight the battle single-handed for the rest of his life, rather than 
 depend for the future on any one, save God and his own 
 exertions. 
 
 This case being disposed of, the Student now commenced an 
 action for defamation against the Eector's son; but the writ being 
 served, the Eector made a most affecting appeal to the Student 
 in favor of his ill-fated child : he conjured him by their former 
 friendship not to do an act which would have the effect of involving 
 him in lasting disgrace and bringing down his grey hairs in sorrow 
 to the grave ; that neither he nor his wife could survive the 
 public disgrace of their child — ^that he had been guilty of a great 
 offence against the Student, his best friend ; that he now felt 
 sensible of his error, and was willing to make the only repara- 
 tion in his power by an ample public apology. The Student 
 replied, " that he was animated by no hostile feeling towards the 
 Bector's son ; that he freely forgave, as he hoped to be forgiven j 
 
AND STUDENT. 909 
 
 that, for the Eector himself and his kind family, he should ever 
 cherish feelings of regard ; but that his own character was para- 
 mount to every other consideration ; and having placed that in 
 the hands of his legal adviser, he should be entirely governed by 
 his opinion ; that all he could do under these circumstances was 
 to lay the Eector's letter before his learned friend, and in the 
 event of his considering it satisfactory, he should proceed no 
 further in the case, as he had no vindictive feelings to gi;atify. 
 The Eeverend gentleman's letter was accordingly submitted to 
 Mr. P., who pronounced it to be fuU and satisfactory. An 
 apology was accordingly drawn up by plaintiff's attorney, and 
 signed by defendant, the Eector's son, acknowledging the false- 
 hood of the advertisement, and expressing his unfeigned 
 regret for being the author of it. 
 
 To this apology a few words of explanation were prefixed, 
 referring to the former advertisement. This was inserted in a 
 conspicuous part of " Saunders' News-Letter ; and thus ended 
 the unfortunate acquaintance between the Student and the 
 Eector's son. To the prospects of the former, it proved in- 
 jurious ; to those of the latter, utterly ruinous. After this he 
 could never raise his head in societyj was abandoned by all his 
 acquaintance, and forced to relinquish every hope of ever enter- 
 ing the ministry ; whilst his kind-hearted but over-indulgent 
 father, overwhelmed with grief at the disgrace of his favorite 
 son, fell a victim to despair, and died shortly after of a broken 
 heart. The Student was now left alone in bfe. " The world 
 was all before him, where to choose his place of rest, and 
 Providence his guide." In his own country he had suffered 
 many afflictions, and experienced the blackest ingratitude ; he 
 therefore resolved to quit a land where he hadfew surviving friends, 
 and which was associated in his mind with the bitterest recollec- 
 
 p 
 
210 THE TUTOR 
 
 tions, and has been for the last twenty-two years a resident inhabi- 
 tant of this more favored land, where he now publishes his story, 
 in the earnest hope that it may serve as a useful lesson to the 
 rising generation. Trom this tale, a two-fold moral may be 
 gleaned — first, that in human life good acts and kind intentions 
 are not always the surest road to worldly preferment. Secondly, 
 that the man who labors in his day with no higher object than 
 that _of obtaining an adequate return from his fellow-men, is 
 sure, in the end, to find his brightest prospects blighted, and ■ 
 his most sanguine hopes to end in disappointment ; but the 
 Christian man builds his hopes of reward on a surer foun- 
 dation — ^the immutable basis of revealed truth ; he feels that he 
 is sent upon this earth the responsible creature of an hour, to 
 act a certain part — to perform particular duties, upon the 
 faithful discharge of which he rests all his hopes of happiness 
 here, and of glory hereafter. Therefore, let fortune frown — let 
 man deceive — let society spurn; so long as he performs the 
 paramount duty that he owes to redeeming love, he recks not 
 what man may do to him ; be rests secure upon the everlasting 
 rock of Omnipotence. This is his present consolation, his 
 future hope ; the anchor upon which he rides secure amidst the 
 storms and billows of a troubled life — the polar star by which 
 he steers his course to the tranquil haven of everlasting rest. 
 
4.ND STUDENT. 2il 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Out, out, brief candle — 
 Man ifl a walking shadow — a poor player ! 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. 
 And then is seen no more.— Shakespeaee. 
 
 The curious reader tfUI be desirous to learn the fate of tlie 
 gallant captain and his noble-minded wife, of whom we said so 
 much. We shall, therefore, ere we conclude, briefly relate their sad 
 story. We have seen that Mrs, L — returned home unaccom- 
 panied by her husband, which may seem inconsistent, consider- 
 ing the state of hia health, the depression of his spirits, and her 
 own devoted attachment to him; but the lady did not take 
 this step without mature consideration. She was aware that aU 
 her husband's illness arose from the state of his mind in regard 
 to his deceased daughter. This was the real seat of his disease ; 
 this " the string on which hung all hia sorrows." She, there- 
 fore, felt the necessity of removing out of hia sight every relic, 
 every vestige of hers calculated to renew his sorrows, or to 
 revive in his mind past recollections. With this view, she 
 willingly embraced the husband's suggestion, that she should 
 return without him. On reaching her own home, she found 
 the house fitted up in a state of the greatest elegance, and all 
 the servants of the former proprietor — her father-ia-law, stiU in 
 the house, prepared to receive her. She had already written to 
 
 P2 
 
313 THE TUTOR 
 
 acquaint them with her intention of returning alone. She now 
 instantly let them know the cause — the state of her husband's 
 health, and the necessity that existed for the suppression of 
 every manifestation of sympathy on their part touching the 
 death of his daughter. The servants instantly entered into the 
 feelings of their mistress, and promised to carry them into fuU 
 effect. On the day of her husband's expected, return, she 
 invited a few particular friends to meet him, viz., the minister 
 of the parish and his lady, with one or two others, among 
 whom was the parish priest, a venerable old gentleman, who had 
 known her husband from his infancy, and was an especial 
 favorite of his. These being all private friends, she candidly 
 communicated to them the real state of her husband's health 
 and his depression of spirits, chiefly owing to the death of his 
 daughter — requesting of her friends to abstain from any par- 
 ticular allusion to so painful a subject. The Captain, on his 
 arrival, was no less surprised than delighted to find this circle 
 of his chosen friends prepared to receive him, and responded to 
 their unaffected greetings with the utmost cordiality and kind- 
 ness. Dinner being ended, the ladies returned to the drawing- 
 room, leaving her husband and his friends to talk over the state 
 of the country and the interests of the tenantry, to which subject 
 the company promised to limit their conversation — in the 
 com-se of which the parson, addressing his host, said, " Captain, 
 I need not say how happy we all are to see you. Many of us 
 knew you of old" (" I have known him," interrupted the priest, 
 " since he was a baby in long-clothes") ; — " well, then," continued 
 the rector, " this long knowledge of your kindness must con- 
 vince us all that you will hear with regret that this country is 
 not in so prosperous a state as it was when you were in long- 
 elothes" (the gallant Captain smiled) ; " the prices of all the 
 
AND STUDENT. 213 
 
 necessaries of life are so low, and rents so high, that the tenant- 
 farmers have a hard struggle to live and meet their landlords' 
 demands. This seems an anomalous state of things, requiring 
 the serious consideration of the great landed proprietors like 
 yourself; but if I may hazard an opinion as to the cause, I 
 should at once attribute it to the evils of absenteeism. This 
 I consider the root of aU. Only pull up this root, and the cure 
 is effected ; your return at the present moment to the seat of 
 your ancestors appears to me a good omen, and the effect that 
 your example and well-known abilities are likely to produce on 
 the neighbouring gentry cannot fail to be productive of the best 
 results. Therefore a great mission awaits you; the eyes of 
 all are now turned to you, and I have no doubt you wUl not 
 think it an object unworthy of you, to co-operate with a poor par- 
 son and a humble parish priest in relieving the distress of the 
 poor of our parish, and improving the moral and material condi- 
 tion of the tenant-farmers on your estate." The priest seconded 
 the views of his Eeverend friend, adding, that, " so far as his 
 humble efforts could go, no exertion should be wanted on his 
 part to give effect to the benevolent intentions of the Reverend 
 Eector." The Captain very briefly replied, thanking his re- 
 verend friends for their kind suggestions, and promising to lose 
 no time in giving them the riost mature consideration ; — " but, 
 my kind friends," observed the gallant o£B.cer, " this does not 
 seem to me the most suitable time and place to speak on the 
 subject of farming ; there is a time for every thing under 
 Heaven, — is this not so?" said he, turning to his venerable 
 friend, the ;farish priest. The latter assented. " Well, then," 
 continued the gallant Captain, " with your permission we shall 
 first drink to the health of the ladies, and then join them in the 
 drawing-room." "My dear boy," observed the kind-hearted 
 
2] 4 THE TUTOR 
 
 priest, " you were always the very soul of gallantry ; but I was 
 beginning to fear that your long residence among the wild Indians 
 had made you quite forgetful of our own fair countrywomen ; 
 but I am glad to find that you are yourself again." The 
 Captain smiled, and assured his Eeverend friend, that, after aU, 
 these Indians were not quite so wild as we may suppose. On 
 the contrary, he had found many of them civilized, humane, 
 and charitable. " Mrs. L — is good authority on this point, and 
 to her I refer you. So now let us join the ladies, and after tea 
 I shall teH you some interesting tales of these wild Indians, as 
 ypu call them, which have come under my own observation 
 during my residence in the Vale of Cashmere, and which I am 
 sure you wiU listen to with much interest." Here the gentle- 
 men drank the proposed toast, which the priest proposed to 
 encore, should it meet the Captain's approbation. " My good 
 friend," said the latter, " I thought you had joined the tee- 
 totallers, and taken the pledge." " Not I, indeed," was the 
 reply, " nor ever mean to do." At this the gentlemen rose, 
 and joined the ladies, who congratulated the Captain on the 
 great improvement in his personal appearance. " Oh," ob- 
 served the priest, " I should think so too, had it not been for 
 those nasty odious mustachios ; they quite spoil him. I wish 
 you would cut off those outlandish encumbrances, and look 
 like one of ourselves ; will you not promise me to do so ?" 
 The Captain laughed, and reminded the priest of the old pro- 
 verb, that when people go to Eome, they must do as Komans 
 do. " But now that I am in Ireland, I am quite willing to 
 sacrifice thes^e appendages, and conform to the customs of my 
 own people, should it meet the approbation of Mrs. L — , but I 
 always allow her a casting voice in such matters. Is not this 
 fair ?" " Perfectly so ; now the whole case is in your hands. 
 
AND STODENT. 215 
 
 Madam," observed the priest, bowing to Mrs. L — . The lady 
 assured the Eeverend gentleman that she had no particular 
 predilection in favor of mustachios; that there were many- 
 arguments against them, and few in their favor ; but that she 
 always allowed her husband to use his own discretion in such 
 matters. " I know," continued the lady, " that the etiquette of 
 the army requires such things, but why I cannot well under- 
 stand. However, now that my husband has left the army, 
 perhaps he may gradually come into your views, but you will 
 kindly allow him a little time. Ton know " Eome was not built 
 in a day." This ended the conversation on the subject of the 
 mustachios — a topic quite planned for the occasion. Tea 
 being ended, 
 
 " Now, Captain," said the priest, " let us hear all about these 
 wild Indians, or cannibals, that you lived so long among ; you 
 promised to tell us some stories about them." 
 
 The Captain accordingly gave to his friends a most interesting 
 sketch of the scenery of the Vale of Cashmere, and all its roman- 
 tic beauties ; the beauty of the women, their devotion to their 
 husbands, &c., topics which he described in language so glowing 
 and poetic, that even the priest himself was moved, and declared 
 that, had he been a younger man he might be tempted to visit 
 the beauties of the Vale of Cashmere. 
 
 It being now ten o'clock the company retired, and thus passed 
 the iirst day of the Captain's return. Mrs. L — seemed highly 
 pleased with the result. The following day was one of more 
 exciting interest. A deputation waited on the Captain at an 
 early hour with an address of congratulation on his return to his 
 native country. The deputation chiefly consisted of his own 
 tenantry ; and the address was couched in terms of anticipation 
 as to the happy results likely to flow from their being placed 
 
316 THE TUTOR 
 
 under the care of a landlord of such great talent and well-known 
 benevolence. The address touched lightly on the high price of 
 land, as contrasted with the low standard of all the necessaries 
 of life, which they begged to submit to the kind consideration 
 of the gallant Captain, and concluded by promising, by their 
 industrious habits and punctuality in the payment of their 
 rents, to prove themselves worthy of the favor of his kind 
 consideration. The Captain thanked them for their con- 
 gratulatory address with all the frankness of a soldier and 
 the urbanity of a gentleman, — expressed the happiness he 
 felt from the hope of passing the rest of his life among them, 
 and concluded by assuring them that he should lose no time 
 in consulting with his agent on that part of their address 
 which brought under his consideration the high price of the 
 ground as contrasted with the low price of all the marketable 
 commodities. The deputation were about to retire, delighted 
 with their reception, when Mrs. L — expressed her hope that 
 the deputation would honor the Captain and herself virith their 
 company to_ lunch. The invitation being accepted, the lady 
 then led the way to the dining-room, leaning on the arm of 
 the Rector, and took her seat at the head of the table ; next 
 the lady sat the parson, who relieved her from the trouble of 
 carving. The Captain sat at the foot of the table, and seemed 
 to vie with his wife in hospitality and kindness to his numerous 
 tenantry. 
 
 The arrival of the Captain being known as the evening closed, 
 bonfires were seen to blaze on every hill for miles around, to hail 
 the return of the gallant Captain and his generous lady to the 
 home of their ancestors. Thus closed the second day. The 
 third was to the Captain quite a day of business, being chiefly 
 occupied with his agent in examining the accounts and circum- 
 
AND STUDENT. 217 
 
 stances of Ms tenantry, — who were punctual in the payment of 
 their rents; who not — the amount of their defalcations; the cha- 
 racters of the tenantry in regard to industry, sobriety, &c. The 
 result of this inquiry was anything but cheering. The number 
 of independent tenants was found to be few — as one to ten — 
 the defaulters numerous : some had paid no rent for a year and 
 a half, others owed a year's rent. All, with a few exceptions, 
 were deeply in arrear. 
 
 The Captain's next inqillry was as to the habits and moral 
 characters of his tenants. And here he found what was natu- 
 rally to be expected, — that the independent and improving 
 tenants were invariably men of good moral character — of 
 sober and industrious habits ; whilst the defaulters were, in 
 general, idle, drunken, and reckless. Here the Captain remarked, 
 that " the remedy in the latter case clearly consisted in reclaim- 
 ing the characters of these men." He next inquired into the 
 intrinsic value of the land, as compared to the state of the 
 market, and found that the farms in general were let at so high 
 a rent as to allow the tenant-farmer but few of the necessaries, 
 and scarcely any of the comforts of life ; but, notwithstanding 
 this, that the sober, industrious tenants, even under such dis- 
 advantages, managed to support their families in comfort, and 
 to realize a state of comparative independence. The result of 
 this long inquiry was that the generous Captain came to the 
 determination of cancelling all back arrears, and giving to his 
 tenants a reduction in their rents, proportioned to the state of 
 the market. He accordingly appointed a day to give effect to 
 his determination, and lost no time in communicating his 
 intentions to the parish priest, with permission to announce it 
 to his congregation on the following Sunday; the Eeverend 
 gentleman accordingly, in the course of an eloquent sermon. 
 
318 THE TTJl'OK 
 
 announced to his flock the joyful intelligence, with a glowing 
 panegyric on the liberality and many virtues of the gallant 
 Captain. The information diffused universal joy, not only among 
 the immediate tenants of the Captain, but also among those of the 
 neighbouring landed proprietors, from the moral effect that 
 such an example was likely to produce on the minds of all. 
 The Captain was not a man to say and not to do— procrastination 
 was no trait in his character — he therefore lost no time in 
 cancelling the old debts, and announcing to his tenants the 
 future reduction in their farms — an announcement that was 
 hailed by all wit hone simultaneous burst of joy — the good tenants 
 as well as the bad were included in the proposed reduction, and 
 complimented in the most flattering terms by their generous 
 landlord. 
 
 This rapid improvement in the condition of his tenantry, the 
 gallant Captain regularly communicated to his Dublin friend, 
 the Student, always requesting his advice, adopting his sugges- 
 tions, and constantly referring to the extraordinary meeting at 
 the inn at Strabane ; nor while the Captain was thus generously 
 employed in taking measures for the welfare of his tenantry, was 
 his high-minded wife idle ; — but, assisted by the parson's ladyi 
 and other benevolent friends, formed a "ladies' committee," under 
 the patronage of the parson and priest, for the relief of tlje poor of 
 the parish, without any distinction of creed or sect ; the parson's 
 wife being appointed treasurer, and Mrs. L — honorary secre- 
 tary. The first act of this generous committee, was to take 
 a house near the parsonage, which they fitted up in a suitable 
 manner, and supplied with coals and every necessary. Their 
 next step was to obtain, from the parish-priest, a list of the most 
 deserving of the poor of his parish ; these they ordered to attend 
 daily, in their new sishoolroom, and furnished them with all 
 
AND STUDENT. 319 
 
 materials for useful employment, according to their various 
 abilities. Some they employed in plain work and knitting — 
 some in basket-making — others in plaiting bonnets and fancy 
 work. The school soon obtained public notoriety, and was 
 pratronized, not only by the ladies of the parish, but also by 
 those of the neighbouring parishes ; many of the articles made 
 being of superior workmanship, fetched high prices. The school 
 soon became self-supporting ; the money was regularly paid in to 
 the lady treasurer, and distributed by the " ladies' committee, — " 
 who met regularly two days in the week, from ten to one — ^to all 
 the distressed objects in the parish, but particularly to such as 
 were recommended by the Eector or the priest, as sober, honest, 
 and industrious ; thus, in less than three months from the 
 return of the gallant Captain, the distress of the parish was 
 removed ; idleness and drunkenness gave way to industry and 
 sobriety ; the people enjoyed comfort, peace, and happiness. A 
 solitary instance of felony was not heard of, but all seemed ani- 
 mated with a just sense of independence and self-reliance, being 
 deeply impressed with the wisdom of the weU-known maxim, that 
 " Grod helps those who help themselves ;" and that in this life, 
 man should place all his hopes, first in God, and then on his 
 own honest exertions ; but never to live dependent or expectant 
 on the support or favors of his fellow-man ; but in human life 
 there is no unmised good ; perfect happiness is only the pre- 
 rogative of a higher state of existence. In this life man can 
 expect but a foretaste of that bliss, the full enjoyment of which 
 is reserved for the glories of immortality. 
 
 The health of the gallant Captain — ^the author of all the 
 above-named good — was now in a precarious state ; it had 
 been so for some time, in spite of all the skiU of an eminent 
 family physician and, the tender care of his devoted wife. The 
 
220 THE TUTOR 
 
 progress of the disease could not be arrested ; its fatal symp- 
 toms became daily more manifest, being indicated at first by 
 the short, dry, teazing cough, the flushed cheek — particularly 
 after meals — and the deceptive brilliancy of the eyes. The 
 wife's alarm was great; stiU. she suppressed her feelings, and 
 buoyed up the heart of her husband with the pleasures of hope. 
 Sometimes she entertained him by her vocal and instrumental 
 powers, which were of a high order ; at other times she took 
 him to visit their mutual friends, and tried to divert his mind 
 by the charms of novelty. The parson and his wife were con- 
 stant visitors ; from the former he received aU the consolations 
 of religion, and had the happiness to receive the holy com- 
 munion from his hands since his return to the country ; the 
 kind-hearted priest was also of the number of his constant 
 visitors, and frequently entertained him with his amusing 
 anecdotes. All that money could procure, or the greatest kind- 
 ness effect, was tried — but in vain — towards his recovery. The 
 Captain never feared a human foe ; neither did he tremble when 
 the " grim King of Terrors" knocked at his door to apprise 
 him that his days were numbered ; — of this he h^d a long pre- 
 sentiment, and was not taken by surprise. A,t length he was 
 forced to take to his bed, his frame being so exhausted and 
 attenuated by frequent expectorations, that he felt wholly unable 
 to sit up any longer, even in an arm-chair ; but the long-expected 
 hour was near — the gallant Captain was quite aware of it; strange 
 to say that in such moments the soul seems to catch some glimpse 
 of futurity, and to be indued with a sort of prophetic spirit : this 
 was realized in the case of the Captain, who took the hand of his 
 wife, and fixing his bright eyes stedfastly on her, said, " My ever 
 dear wife, you have been my devoted partner in sickness and 
 sorrow. If ever a wife discharged her duty to a loving husband. 
 
AND STUDENT. 221 
 
 you are that one. You and I have travelled together nearly the 
 entire round of the habitable globe ; — we are now about to part, 
 dearest, but only for a short season — to meet again ' where sin 
 and sorrow are no more.' This very night I hope to stand 
 before the Throne of Mercy. That God who has given his dearly 
 beloved Son a ransom for the human race, will not refuse his mercy 
 to me and my devoted wife at this awful moment. This very night 
 I hope to meet your dear daughter, now an angel in glory. She 
 has been long expecting me : she is also expecting you ; but I 
 go first ; 'tis not the wiU of the Lord to take you just now ; you 
 have still some important duties to discharge. The poor of our 
 parish are niany — hitherto you have acted the part of a parent to 
 them ; continue to do so. My entire property I bequeath to you 
 without any restriction ; do with it as you please, I could not leave 
 it in better hands. And now farewell for a short season — Heave 
 you to the care of that Holy Lord, who never abandons his elect !" 
 These were the last words of the gallant Captain : a few moments 
 after he breathed his last in the arms of his devoted wife, and 
 his noble spirit winged its flight to join " the assembly of the 
 just made perfect." He expired, in his thirty-fifth year. The 
 devoted wife having closed the eyes of her departed husband, 
 arranged his bed, and sat by it for some time, gazing intently on 
 the lifeless features of the deceased. The expression seemed that 
 of a tranquil mind enjoying the blessings of repose — so calm — 
 so heavenly. 
 
 The servants, who distinctly heard his last farewell to their 
 mistress, had no idea that he was dead ; the mistress did not 
 apprise them of it, but continued to sit by his bed, though she 
 neither spoke nor wept ; — at length she gently touched the bell, 
 and when the nurse entered the mistress merely pointed at 
 the bed, and seemed as if perfectly dumb — but the nurse, an 
 
323 THE TUTOR 
 
 old and faithful servant, seeing that her master was dead, fell 
 upon the neck of her mistress and wept bitterly. " Alas ! dear 
 nurse," said the lady, " the spring of my heart is dried up. I 
 am denied the luxury of tears — I am now a widow indeed : but 
 ' the Lord is good, and his mercy endureth for ever.' He wiU 
 not leave me desolate — I know He wiU not ; He wiU soon 
 take me to himself, and allow me to join my husband and children 
 in the glory of the Father." Having spoken these few words she 
 resumed her -silence : the nurse would have spoken, but she 
 motioned to her not, and remained sitting by the death-bed 
 until the clock struck six, when the parson's lady and others, 
 near relatives, entered, and prevailed upon the widow to accom- 
 pany them to an adjoining room, where they tried all means to 
 soothe her afilictions, and to administer the balm of religious 
 consolation to her wounded spirit. Mrs. L — expressed her 
 gratitude for their kindness ; but turning suddenly to the parson's 
 wife, she said, " Are you aware that the wives of the Hindoos 
 seldom survive their departed husbands, but generally make 
 away with themselves ?" she paused for a moment, — " but never 
 fear. — I trust I am a Christian woman, the widow of a Christian 
 man, and don't mean to follow the example of the Infidel or 
 idolater : but the Lord who created and redeemed me is a Grod 
 of mercy, and this mercy I trust He will extend to me, by taking 
 me out of a world no longer tolerable. 'Twas in vain that the 
 ladies tried to prevail on her to take a little tea or some refresh- 
 ment, — ^this she obstinately refused ; at length, having prayed 
 with her for some time, they took their departure, leaving her to 
 the care of her nurse and a near relative, and expressing their 
 hope with God's blessing to see her better the following morning. 
 The disconsolate widow, being left, returned again to the 
 death-bed of her husband,' accompanied by her faithful nurse. 
 
AND STUDENT. 323 
 
 where she remained for some time, gazing on. the remains of her 
 husband. She then kissed his cold lips, arranged his hair, and 
 told the nurse that she felt inclined for a little rest, and that 
 she might leave her until nine o'clock, and then come back. 
 The nurse accordingly obeyed. The widow being left alone, 
 stripped off her clothes, put on her night-dress, combed her 
 hair, and lay down by the side of her husband. The mental 
 excitement caused by the melancholy sensation that she had lost 
 the only object that bound her to life was too much for her 
 nervous temperament ; the main-spring of life snapped, and the 
 human timepiece ceased to beat. The nurse having come into 
 the room at nine o'clock, approached the death-bed, thinking 
 that her mistress was only taking some refreshing sleep, but 
 found it to be the sleep of death. She instantly screamed aloud, 
 when all the servants rushed into the room, and witnessed the 
 fatal catastrophe — the husband and wife lay dead together ! The 
 awful news was quickly circulated through the neighbourhood, 
 where it created the utmost consternation. The Eector and his 
 fanuly having heard the rumour, were instantly on the spot, 
 and found it a sad reality. The following morning was one of 
 the utmost excitement ; the people assembled by thousands 
 to ascertain the truth of the rumour. Finding it too true, 
 despair seemed depicted on every countenance; all felt 
 that they had lost their dearest friends, and that their once 
 bright prospects were now blighted for ever. The day of the 
 funeral at length arrived — a gloomy day to the tenantry of the 
 gallant Captain. The crowds that assembled on the occasion 
 to join the sad procession, and to testify their gratitude and 
 respect to the memoiy of a great and good man and his devoted 
 wife, were such as were rarely, if ever, seen to attend to their 
 last resting-place the remains of an Irish landlord. The 
 
224 THE TUTOB AND STUDENT. 
 
 parson having read the solemn funeral service ( 1 Cor. xv.,), 
 not a dry eye was to be seen in the immense multitude ; 
 the women sobbed aloud : those only who know the warm 
 feelings of the Irish heart can judge of the intensity of those 
 feelings, when they saw the coffins of the husband and wife 
 lowered down into the family vault, near the coflJn of their 
 beloved daughter — the, admiration and respect of the people for 
 a devoted lady, who fell a martyr to her regard for the man of 
 her choice and the object of her everlasting love — ^no words 
 can express. The ceremony being ended, the tenants returned 
 home with downcast hearts, and minds fuU of ominous fore- 
 bodings, and no sun ever went down more fuU of gloom on the 
 prospects of the Irish tenant, than that which saw consigned to 
 the tomb of his ancestors the gallant Captain and his devoted 
 wife. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Dipfose and Bateman, Printers, IS, Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane.