"They rise from their feast,

And hot are their brains,
A cubit at least

The length of their scians."

Mr. O'Connor seems to speak of the use of the carab or military chariot amongst the early Irish as an undoubted fact, and says that great feats are recorded of some of our ancient charioteers. And Mr. Harris observes, that in the Tain-bo-cuailgne, military chariots, and the manner of fighting in them, are described much after the way that Cæsar describes the Britons fighting in the same sort of carriage; and the guider of the chariot is there called ara, a page or lacquey. Every reader of Ossian's poems must remember the beautiful description of the chariot of Cucholinn, the famous Irish chieftain, in the first book of Fingal. But the blaze of splendour which Mr. Macpherson has thrown around this chariot will not allow the eye to look steadily on it. In an Irish romance now lying before me, of which the subject is the death of the same hero, his chariot is mentioned, but not described: "Cucholinn having put on his helmet and habiliments of war, leaped into his chariot without taking leave of Cauff or his guests, and his weapons fell down at his feet."

The chariot falling into disuse, the Irish were taught by the English to caparison the horses of their cavalry with the strong brass bit, sliding reins, and shank pillion; and as well to mount without the aid of the stirrup, as to ride after the English fashion.

Firearms were unknown in Ireland till the reign of Henry VIII. "In the year 1489

(says Harris) the first musquets or firearms that perhaps were ever seen in Ireland were brought to Dublin from Germany, and six of them, as a great rarity, were presented to Gerald, Earl of Kildare, then lord-deputy, which he put into the hands of his guards, as they stood sentinels before his house in Thomas Court." After this period firearms were no longer a rarity in this country; during the Elizabethan wars they were liberally diffused through the kingdom. It was for the purpose of carrying on those wars with more terror to the natives that pieces of ordnance were first

introduced.

At this time part of the Spanish Armada happening to be wrecked on the Irish coast, some of the cannon were cast on shore. One of them is now preserved in the armoury of the castle of Dublin, where it was deposited by Colonel Vallancey, who had it brought up from Kinsale. In the same repository is preserved the cannon which killed St. Ruth; but, being covered with ammunition carriages, I could not obtain a drawing of it. It is, I am told, a long six-pounder.

Thus, with a rapid hand, having completed my design, I shall dismiss this memoir with a poetical adjunct. O'Hoesy, a modern Irish bard, contrasting the ancient discipline of the Irish with that of late days, exclaims with indignation—

"No more the foe now trembles at our name,

No more their captive numbers swell our fame;
No martial earth is by the soldier prest,
The sword, the sole companion of his rest:
No warriors nightly canopy'd with air,
See the frost bind the ringlets of their hair;
Our weapons idly in our scabbards stand,.
Nor
grow, as erst, to ev'ry valiant hand."

house of his uncle at Cork, where he remained for a couple of years. Before that short time had expired, however, he had given ample proofs of his unsuitableness for business. It was the original intention of his relatives that he should go out to the West Indies to take charge of an estate belonging to his uncle, but his wayward temper, his dabbling in verses, and his loose though not vicious ways, deterred his uncle from trusting him in a responsible

In the latter part of 1752 he took the first open step in his long literary career by issuing a political periodical called Gray's Inn Journal. This was no great success, but it continued to exist for two years, and was the means of Murphy's introduction to a great number of actors and men of letters in London. This extension of his acquaintance was an advantage to him from one point of view; but it was also a disadvantage, as it led him into debt, most of which was incurred under the belief that it would be paid off by a legacy from his uncle. In this he was disappointed, and being hard pressed even for a living, he went on the stage at the advice of Foote. He appeared in the onerous part of Othello, and although his success was not great, he managed by his good figure and other qualities to gain a position which enabled him to pay off his debts and save £400. When this point was reached he determined to leave the stage and join the bar. His application for admission to the Middle Temple met with a refusal in consequence of his connection with the stage, but at Lincoln's Inn he found greater liberality of opinion, and was received in 1757, and called to the bar in 1762. A few years after he had trod the stage at Drury Lane he appeared as a pleader at Westminster Hall. He occasionally attended the circuits, but without much success, and he was forced to eke out his income by political writing. In 1788 he left the bar in disgust, the last straw which broke the back of his patience being the appointment of a junior as king's counsel. From this time until his death he devoted himself entirely to literature, with the exception of the time necessary to perform the duties of a commissioner of bankruptcy, to which post he was appointed in 1798 by the interest of Lord Loughborough.

Murphy's first dramatic attempt, The Apprentice, was produced shortly before he joined the stage. In 1759 his tragedy of The Orphan of China was the means of making Mrs. Yates at once a great favourite with the public, and in 1761 she also had another success with the author's All in the Wrong. This last comedy was also a great financial success to Murphy, and with Know your Own Mind and The Way to Keep Him, held the stage until a few years ago; indeed the three plays may yet be seen acted occasionally in provincial theatres. The Grecian Daughter, a tragedy, Three Weeks after Marriage, and The Citizen, both comedies, were

In 1792, after his retirement to Hammersmith, Murphy published his Essay on the Life and Genius of Dr. Johnson, a work in which he defended his friend from the many attacks which it had then become the fashion to make upon him. In 1793 appeared his scholarly translation of Tacitus with an essay on his life and genius, which has frequently been reprinted. He also wrote a Life of Fielding, and shortly before his death a Lise of Garrick, which last is generally reputed his least talented work. In 1798 appeared his tragedy of Arminius, in which he displayed great warmth in favour of the then pending war, and for which he was granted a pension of £200 a year. This he enjoyed till his death, which occurred at Knightsbridge, June, 1805, in the seventy-eighth year of his age.

In addition to the works already named Murphy wrote several farces, sketches, prologues, epilogues, addresses, and contributions to periodical literature. During his political career he also produced The Test and The Auditor, weekly papers in defence of the existing government; and in 1786 he edited a collection of his own works in seven volumes plays, poems, and miscellanies.

Murphy's position in literature is not a well ascertained one. He has been considered by some as merely a better class hack in his general works, a judgment anything but just. As regards his dramatic works, however, he ranks high, some of his comedies being reckoned as almost second to none in their day. That three or four of them have kept the stage until the present time is proof of their value; and that they will bear reading in the closet, is a still higher proof that their author deserves a foremost place among British dramatists.

Foote wrote a life of Murphy, which was published in 1811.]

A DAUGHTER'S LOVE. (FROM "THE GRECIAN DAUGHTER.") PHILOTAS alone, on watch, spear in hand. Phil. Some dread event is lab'ring into birth. At close of day the sullen sky held forth Unerring signals. With disastrous glare The moon's full orb rose crimson'd o'er with

blood;

Yield to the gen'rous instinct; grant my pray'r; Let my eyes view him, gaze their last upon him, And show you have some sense of human woe. Phil. Her vehemence of grief o'erpow'rs me

quite.

My honest heart condemns the barb'rous deed,
And if I dare-

Euph. And if you dare!-Is that

The voice of manhood? Honest, if you dare!
'Tis the slave's virtue! 'tis the utmost limit
Of the base coward's honour.-Not a wretch,
There's not a villain, not a tool of pow'r,
But, silence interest, extinguish fear,
And he will prove benevolent to man.

The gen'rous heart does more: will dare to all
That honour prompts. -How dost thou dare to

murder?

Respect the gods, and know no other fear.

Phil. No other fear assails this warlike breast. I pity your misfortunes; yes, by heav'n, My heart bleeds for you. Gods! you've touch'd

my soul!

The gen'rous impulse is not giv'n in vain.

I feel thee, Nature, and I dare obey.
Oh! thou hast conquer'd.-Go, Euphrasia, go,
Behold thy father.

Euph. Raise me, raise me up;

I'll bathe thy hand with tears, thou gen'rous man! Phil. Yet mark my words; if aught of nourishment

Thou wouldst convey, my partners of the watch Will ne'er consent.

Euph. I will observe your orders:

On any terms, oh! let me, let me see him.

Phil. Yon lamp will guide thee thro' the cav

ern'd way.

Euph. My heart runs o'er in thanks; the pious act Timoleon shall reward; the bounteous gods, And thy own virtue, shall reward the deed.

[Goes into the cave.

A SATIRIST.

(FROM "KNOW YOUR OWN MIND.")

MALVIL, BYGROVE, and SIR JOHN together. Enter DASHWOULD.

Dash. Sir John, I rejoice to see you. Mr. Bygrove, I kiss your hand. Malvil, have you been uneasy for any friend since?

Mal. Poh-absurd! [Walks away. Dash. I have been laughing with your son, Sir John. Pray, have I told you about Sir Richard Doriland?

him; I love Sir Richard. You know he was divorced from his wife; a good, fine woman, but an invincible idiot.

Mal. Look ye there, now, Mr. Bygrove! Byg. My Lady Doriland, sir, was always counted a very sensible woman.

Dash. She was so; with too much spirit to be ever at ease, and a rage for pleasure, that broke the bubble as she grasped it. She fainted away upon hearing that Mrs. Allnight had two card-tables more than herself.

Byg. Inveterate malice!

Dash. They waged war a whole winter, for the honour of having the greatest number of fools, thinking of nothing but the odd trick. First, Mrs. Allnight kept Sundays; her ladyship did the same; Mrs. Allnight had forty tables; her ladyship rose to fifty. Then one added, then t'other; till every room in the house was crammed like the Black Hole at Calcutta; and at last, upon casting up the account, Sir Richard sold off fifteen hundred acres to clear encumbrances.

Sir J. Ridiculous! And so they parted upon this?

Dash. Don't you know the history of that business?

Mal. Now mark him-now.

Dash. Tender of reputation, Malvil; the story is well known. She was detected with

the little foreign count-I call him the Salamander-I saw him five times in one winter upon the back of the fire at Bath, for cheating at cards.

Mal. Go on, sir, abuse everybody. My lady was perfectly innocent. I know the whole affair; a mere contrivance to lay the foundation of a divorce.

Dash. So they gave out. Sir Richard did not care a nine-pin for her while she was his. You know his way; he despises what is in his possession, and languishes for what is not. Her ladyship was no sooner married toWhat's-his-name-His father was a footman, and Madame Fortune, who every now and then loves a joke, sent him to the East Indies, and in a few years brought him back at the head of half a million for the jest's sake.

Mal. Mr. Dashwould, upon my word, sir,Families to be run down in this manner.

Dash. Mushroom was his name; my Lady Doriland was no sooner married to him, but up to his eyes Sir Richard was in love with her. He dressed at her; sighed at her; danced