He would very much like, he said, to see England before he died; and spoke with much interest about the great things to be seen there. When I told him of that chamber in the British Museum wherein are preserved household memorials of a race that ceased to be, thousands of years ago, he was very attentive, and it was not hard to see that he had a reference in his mind to the gradual fading away of his own people.

"This led us to speak of Mr. Catlin's gallery, which he praised highly: observing that his own portrait was among the collection, and that all the likenesses were elegant.' Mr. Cooper, he said, had painted the Red Man well; and so would I, he knew, if I would go home with him and hunt buffaloes, which he was quite anxious I should do. When I told him that supposing I went, I should not be very likely to damage the buffaloes much, he took it as a great joke and laughed heartily.

"He was a remarkably handsome man: some years past forty I should judge; with long black hair, an aquiline nose, broad cheek bones, a sunburnt complexion, and a very bright, keen, dark, and piercing eye. There were but twenty thousand of the Choctaws left, he said, and their number was decreasing every day. A few of his brother chiefs had been obliged to become civilised, and to make themselves acquainted with what the whites knew, for it was their only chance of existence. But they were not many; and the rest were as they always had been. He dwelt on this: and said several times that unless they tried to assimilate themselves to their conquerors, they must be swept away before the strides of civilised society.

"When we shook hands at parting, I told him he must come to England, as he longed to see the land so much: that I should hope to see him there, one day; and that I could promise him he would be well received and kindly treated. He was evidently pleased with this assurance, though he rejoined with a good-humoured smile and an arch shake of his head, that the English used to be very fond of the Red Men when they wanted their help, but had not cared much for them, since.

"He took his leave; as stately and complete a gentleman of Nature's making as ever I beheld; and moved among the people in the boat, another kind of being. He sent me a lithographed portrait of himself soon afterwards; very like, though scarcely handsome enough; which I have carefully preserved in memory of our brief acquaintance."

This is to our minds very beautiful. It has all the grace and simplicity of a chapter from Goldsmith or Sterne. The italics are our own; but we will not at this moment offer any further remark. If it does not set our readers thinking, they have colder hearts and duller brains than we give them credit for; and comment on our part would be useless.

A considerable portion of the second volume relates to Canada, which, short as was his stay in America, Mr. Dickens found time to visit. Here, it is hardly necessary to say, he is much more at home, and amply satisfied with what he finds of progress and prosperity. And indeed, if his testimony be not too partial, that country is thriving apace. We have only room for a single remark of more general interest, called forth from our thoughtful tourist by his meeting some humble emigrants in the packet from Quebec to Montreal:

"The vessel in which we returned from Quebec to Montreal was crowded with them, and at night they spread their beds between decks (those who had beds, at least), and slept so close and thick about our cabin door, that the passage to and fro was quite blocked up. They were nearly all English; from Gloucestershire the greater part, and had had a long-winter passage out: but it was wonderful to see how clean the children had been kept, and how untiring in their love and self-denial all the poor parents were.

"Cant as we may, and as we shall to the end of all things, it is very much harder for

the poor to be virtuous than it is for the rich; and the good that is in them shines the brighter for it. In many a noble mansion lives a man, the best of husbands and of fathers, whose private worth in both capacities is justly lauded to the skies. But bring him here, upon this crowded deck. Strip from his fair young wife her silken dress and jewels, unbind her braided hair, stamp early wrinkles on her brow, pinch her pale cheek with care and much privation, array her faded form in coarsely patched attire, let there be nothing but his love to set her forth or deck her out, and you shall put it to the proof indeed. So change his station in the world, that he shall see in those young things who climb about his knee: not records of his wealth and name: but little wrestlers with him for his daily bread; so many poachers on his scanty meal; so many units to divide his every sum of comfort, and farther to reduce its small amount. In lieu of the endearments of childhood in its sweetest aspect, heap upon him all its pains and wants, its sicknesses and ills, its fretfulness, caprice, and querulous endurance; let its prattle be, not of engaging infant fancies, but of cold, and thirst, and hunger: and if his fatherly affection outlive all this, and he be patient, watchful, tender; careful of his children's lives, and mindful always of their joys and sorrows; then send him back to Parliament, and Pulpit, and to Quarter Sessions, and when he hears fine talk of the depravity of those who live from hand to mouth, and labour hard to do it, let him speak up, as one who knows, and tell those holders forth that they, by parallel with such a class, should be High Angels in their daily lives, and lay but humble siege to Heaven at last.

"Which of us shall say what he would be, if such realities, with small relief or change all through his days, were his! Looking round upon these people: far from home, houseless, indigent, wandering, weary with travel and hard living: and seeing how patiently they nursed and tended their young children; how they consulted ever their wants first, then half supplied their own; what gentle ministers of hope and faith the women were; how the men profited by their example; and how very, very seldom even a moment's petulance or harsh complaint broke out among them: I felt a stronger love and honour of my kind come glowing on my heart, and wished to God there had been many Atheists in the better part of human nature there, to read with me this simple lesson in the book of Life."

With this we may appropriately conclude. His lively popular sympathies Mr. Dickens evinces on many occasions. He understands the people, and therefore fails not to feel for them and with them. And if he has no great liking for democratic crotchets or popular excesses, his testimony to the worth of the people of his own and other countries, his warm wishes for their amelioration, and impassioned appeals for the supply of their many wants,—above all, their want of wise guidance and good government,—are only the more valuable as coming from a man whose objects are above suspicion. In disquisitions of this nature, scattered through the work before us, Mr. Dickens has appeared in a new character; and though he cannot expect any immediate increase to a reputation already so widely extended, we are confident the ultimate result will be to give him a higher and more enduring position in public estimation and respect. England is at the present time most sadly in want of honest political writing. We know few men who could more effectually supply that want than Mr. Dickens; and we should be rejoiced to see him occasionally throw aside the tambour-frame of domestic fiction, and wield the falchion of indignant remonstrance in behalf of national morals and popular rights.

LINES

TO A DEW DROP.

Child of the night,

So bright and simple, glittering and clear,
The sparkling herald of the morning light,
So pretty and so small, a tiny sphere

Of purer radiance than the fairest gem
That ever graced an eastern diadem!

Out of the flowers,

Filled with their lavish fragrance, thou hast passed,
In their folds seeming to have slept the hours
Of night away-and when its gloom was past,
And morning bid the slumbering world awake,
Out of their silken bondage thou didst break.
But can it be,

That the refulgent blossoms have no charm

To keep thee? Is their fragrance known to thee?

Or will their downy surface do thee harm,

That thou should'st make so very short a stay,

And to the cold dark grave thus steal away?

Could'st thou not hold

A few short seconds on the shining flower,
And sparkle like a drop of liquid gold
In the warm sunbeams, till their genial power

Had called thee to themselves? Thus would they save
Thy orient beauty from the noisome grave.

And then when gone,

Just as if seeking whither thou hast fled,
Another sparkling crystal drop comes on,
And also falls among its brethren-dead!
Onward to death successively they fly,
Glitter a moment, and then droop and die.
And thus shall we

Fall from this sinning world, almost unknown,
Into the grave-forgotten, just like thee
Our loss is scarce perceived, and not alone,

Too often they for whom we would have died,
Scared by our fall, soon slumber by our side.

But he the King

Who called us from the dust-who gave us breath,

Who formed from nothing each created thing,
Our GOD, who made the world-who conquered death-
Should we deserve His glorious face to see,

Calls us to share His immortality.

Our souls then rise

From death, to meet a sun more bright than thine;
We soar from earth into the glistening skies,

In His pure radiance evermore to shine;

Nor re-descend, like thee-there's nought to sever
Us from our God; with him we live and reign for ever.

H. D.

THE NATIVE MUSIC OF IRELAND.

NOVEMBER.

No. XXXVIII.

Naire ni Ura. The air we now have to present to our musical readers is another gem from that rare cabinet, our "Miscellaneous Collection," which suited the plaintive character of Callanan's lines so admirably, that we had no difficulty in at once determining that, as they almost seemed to be made for one another, it was our duty to unite them; and we trust the charms of each will be enhanced by their being heard together.

"MARY O'HARA."

Though dark fate hath reft me of all that was sweet,
And widely we sever,-too widely to meet,

Oh! yet while one life pulse remains in this heart,

'Twill remember thee, Mary, wherever thou art.

How sad were the glances at parting we threw,
No word could we speak, but the stifled adieu,
My lips o'er thy cold cheek all raptureless passed,
'Twas the first time I pressed it-it must be the last.

But why should I dwell thus on scenes that but pain,
Or think on thee, Mary, when thinking is vain?
Thy name to this bosom now sounds like a knell;
My fond one-my dear one-for ever-farewell!

No. XXXIX

The next air in our present selection is o a widely different character from the last; it is full of life and fun, as might be expected from the thoroughly Irish words which have been associated with it. We do not know the antient name of the air, which we obtained from our worthy ally, Paddy Conneely, under its present designation. When Peel introduced his police force into Ireland, they were universally detested by the natives for their tyrannical and inquisitorial character, so different from the military, whose place they were intended to take in the rural districts; the consequence was, that when the following admirable satire on that body was written, (we believe, by an Irish peasant) it spread like wildfire throughout the length and breadth of the land, and there was scarcely a village in the whole country, where the itinerant ballad singer did not reap a rich harvest, by shouting forth the popular song of

THE PEELER AND THE GOAT.

As a Bansha Peeler was out one night, On duty and patrolling Oh!

He met a goat upon the road, That seemed to be a-strolling oh!
With bay'net fixed he sallied forth, And caught him by the weazen oh!

And thundered out a dreadful oath That he'd "send him to New Zealand oh !"

Goat speaks.

"Oh mercy, sir," the Goat replied, "Pray let me tell my story oh!

"I am no rogue, nor Ribbonman, nor Croppy, Whig, nor Tory oh!
"Nor guilty, sir, of any crime; Of petty or high treason oh!
"Our tribe is wantin' at this time, For 'tis the ranting season oh!"

Peeler speaks.

"It is in vain that you complain, Or give your tongue such bridle oh!
"You're absent from your dwelling place, Disorderly and idle oh!
"Your hoary locks will not prevail, Nor your sublime oration oh!
"For Peelers' act will you transport, By your own information oh!
Goat speaks.

"No penal laws did I transgress, By deed or combination oh!

"I have no certain place of rest, Nor house of habitation oh!

"But Bansha is my dwelling place, Where I was bred and born oh!
"I'm descended from an honest race, That's all the trade I've learn'd oh!"
Peeler speaks.

"I will chastise your insolence, And violent behaviour oh!

"Well bound to Cashel you'll be sent, Where you will gain no favour oh!
"The Magistrates will all consent To sign your condemnation oh!
"From thence to Cork you will be sent For speedy transportation oh!”

Goat speaks.

"This parish and the neighbourhood Are peaceable and tranquil oh!
"There's no disturbance here, thank God, And long may it continue so!
"Your oath I don't regard a pin, To make out my committal oh!
"For my jury will be gentlemen, Who'll grant me my acquittal oh!"

Peeler speaks.

"Let the consequence be what it will A Peeler's power I'll let you know!
"I'll handcuff you at all events, And march you off to prison oh!
"You villian, sure you can't deny Before the Judge and Jury oh!
"With you I did find two long spears which threatened me with fury O!"
Goat speaks.

"I'm certain, if you were not drunk, With whiskey, rum, or brandy oh!
"You would not have such gallant spunk, To be so bold and manly oh!
"You readily would let me pass, If I had sterling handy oh!

“To treat you to a poteen glass,—Oh! it's then I'd be the dandy oh!"

No. XL.

This is a specimen of the Irish Reel, which we also obtained from Paddy Conneely, by whom it was called "The Flogging Reel;"-and the name of it is undoubtedly the most strikingly characteristic mark of its national roigin.

No. XLI.

Noll Tiġearnaiġ, is another of those airs which we obtained in the olden time from poor O'Reilly. Who this pleasant Dame "Moll Tierney" may have been, and who was the author of this effort to immortalize her in Irish song, are points on which we are unfortunately unable to throw any light at present. She must nevertheless, we opine, have been a comical lass, and we trust our readers will rejoice at the introduction, and lose no time (as she is remarkable for her liveliness and spirit) in "making her acquaintance."