The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-04-16 00:00:00

tatraturt.

and daughters felt it is forcibly as his wife ; their lamenta-
tions were full of the strongest and sharpest agony.
I For nearly three hours did they remain in this situation ;
poor Lanigan sieking by degrees into that collapsed state
from which there is no possibility of rallying. He was
merely able to speak, and recngnise his family ; but every
uncle sorn's Peculiarities, by Uncle Sam. 2 vols. moment advanced him, with awful certainty, nearer and
John Mortimer, London. nearer to his end.
We have seen most of the works published of late years A great number of the neighbours were now assembled, by British travellers. detailing their "impressions" during all participating in the awful feeling which predominated,
their sojourn in the United States—including, of course, and anxious to compensate by their prayers for the ab-
Mrs. Trollope, and more latterly, the versatile Dickens sence of that confidence derived by Roman Catholics dur-
but we do not remember having derived, so much amuse- ing the approach of death, from the spiritual aid of the
rnent, and we may add instruction, in respect to the "p - priest. They were all at prayer; the sick room and kit-
culiarities" of American life, as from a perusal (thoh ellen were crowded with his friends and acquaintances,
hasty) of the two handsome volumes before us. The two many of whom knelt out before the door, and joined with
authors whom we have named are generally considered to loud voices in the Rosary which was offered up in his be-
have dealt—from the force of national prejudices—too half.
largely in what may be called romance of character : both In this crisis were they, when a horseman, dressed in
of them having mingled almost exclusively with the re- black, approached the house. Every head was instantly
Publican and foreign aristocracy of the country, drew their turned round, with a hope that it might be the parish
" experiences" more especially from those classes; and priest or his curate ; but, alas ! they were doomed to ex-
indulging in the usual latitude of flying voyageurs—if we perience a fresh disappointment. 'The stranger, though
may judge from various favourable specimens of the clerical enough in his appearance, presented a counte..
" natives," both here and their own land—have furnished 'lance with which none of them was acquainted. On
pictures generally overcharged in colouring, or imperfectly glancing at the group who knelt around the door, he ap-
finished in detail. This is the besetting sin of most tour- peered to understand the melancholy cause which brought
ists ; and though our present author is not entirely free them together.
from a similar charge, we think, that if offence there be, " How is this ?" he exclaimed.
it is of a mitigated nature—his expositions bearing that irn- sick or dying ?"
press, which evidently approximates to truth. The author, " Poor Misther Lanigan, sir, is jilt departin', glory be
who, we may staie—having learned the fact sub rosa—is to God ! An' what is terrible all out upon himself and
a talented, literary, and scientific townsman, in fact pleads family, he's dyin' widout the priest. They're both at
guilty, in his preface, of the probability of " a few carica- Conwhirence, sir, and can't come—Mr. Dogherty an' his
tures." but adds, and we think properly, that " these curate."
may be considered attributable to the " art of compres- " Make way !" said the stranger, throwing himself
Sion." " If," he continues, " three of the most comical his horse, and passing quickly through the people. "Shoffow
Kentucks' be rolled into one, a caricature will certainly me to the sick man's room—be quick, my friends—l am
be produced ; but, at the distance taken by readers to a Catholic clergyman."
view a pen and ink sketch, the likeness will be the more In a moment a passage was cleared, and the stranger
striking. Beyond this no exaggeration is admitted, found himself beside the bed of death. Grief in the room
The " peculiarities," he further states, are by Uncle Sam, was loud and bitter ; but his presence stilled it despite of
(U. S.) as he himself developes most of them in dialogue, what they felt.
The papers, he informs us, comprising the volumes. ‘. -My dear friends," said he, " you know there should
were written from memoranda made by a mercantile be silence in the apartment of a dying man. For shame !
tourist outing a twelve month's residence in the United —for shame ! Cease this clamour, it will but distract
tes." An enthusiastic republican, detesting the mere him for whom you weep, and prevent him from coropos-
pithe of subject, previous to his residence among citizens, ing his mind for the great trial that is before him."
ned to England to consider, and ultimately to Sir," said Lanigan's wife, seizing his hand in both
his former republican phantasies, perfectly satis- hers, and looking distractedly in his face, " are you a
ed that " the best of all possible republics, to use the priest ? For heaven's sake tell us !"
words of La Fayette, "is a monarchy surrounded by re- " I am," he replied ; " leave the room every one of you.
publican institutions." He thus concludes his prefatory I hope your husband is not speechless ?"
remarks—" That the United States do not form the best " Sweet Queen of Heaven, not yet, may her name be
of republics, let Slavery and Repudiation cry aloud! And praised! but near it, your Reverence—widin little or no
if there should be a reader who cannot admit the fact from time ofit."
the
but seine enunciation of these two words, it is humbly, Whilst they spoke, he was engaged in putting the stole
tly recommended by the ptesent author, that about his neck, after which he cleared the he should visit America."—We have not ourselves been
commenced hearing Lanigan's confession. room, and
in the United States, but a first glance at these papers— The appearance of a priest, and the consolation it pro-
which may he called a series of lively sketches, that may dared, rallied the powers of life in the benevolent farmer.
be dipped into at any chapter and almost at any page— I He became more collected ; made a clear and satisfac-
excited in us some surprise that the author could, after so j tory confession ; received the sacrament of Extreme
comparatively short a residence in that country, throw , Unction ; and felt himself able to speak with tolerable
together, in so handsome a form, such a body of inforrna- distinctness and precision. The effects of all this were
tion and amusement—still preserving, in the various clia- I seren
astonishing. A placid ity, of
racters he introduces, that keeping and vraisemblance in I
beamed from the pale and worn full
features of him who was hope and confidence,
action and in idiom, which cannot be the work of invert- 1
but a few minutes before in a state of terror altogether in-
tion, but clearly of lively impressions derived from the describable. When his wife and family, after having been
reality, and therefore entitled to almost implicit credence. I called in, observed this change, they immediately parti-
The marvel is, however, explained on a closer perusal; cipated in his tranquility. Death had been deprived of its
for we find that while other recent tourists were co fined, stn.-, and grief of its bitterness their sorrow was still
by circumstances or taste, to the study of exclusive and deep, but it was not darkened by the dread a future mis
nearly exclusively independent grades of society, our sery. They felt for him as a beloved father, a kind hus-
author " conversed" (to use a Yankee phrase) with the band, and a dear friend, who had lived a virtuous life,
middle and lower orders, as well as occasionally with the feared God, and who was now about to pass into happiness.
high and wealthy. He ming ed with them at their town When the rites of the church were administered, and
and country inns and places of amusement, and in their the family again assembled round the bed, the priest sat
private domiciles • spent his long winter evenings amongst down in a position which enabled him to see the features
them; partook of their localities, and humoured their foibles of this good man more distinctly.
—so that, though still Maintaining his national integrity, " I would be glad," said Lanigan, "to know who it is
and on all possible and safe occasions " " speaking out" that God in his goodness has sent to smooth my bed in
against the abominations of slavery, the repudiation" death if it 'ud be plaisin', Sir, to you to tell me ?"
of just debts, and the eternal and empty brag of "beat- "Do you remember," replied the priest, "a young lad
ing the British, he contrived to keep himself within a whom you met some years ago on his way to Munster, as
whole skin; to command from the more enlightened a a poor scholar? You and your family were particularly
degree of grateful respect; and, if we mistake not, to ex- kind to him ;so kind that he has never since forgotten
cite impressions amongst his opponents in conversation your affectionate hospitality."
that staggered their previous crude and erroneous con- "We do, your Reverence, we do. A mild, gentle
victions, and led not a few of them to a more correct esti- crathur he was, poor boy. I hope God prospered him."
motion of " the old country" and its inhabitants, and a " You see him now before you," said the priest. " I
less boastful assumption of the superiority of their own am that boy, and I thank God that I can testify, however
and its institutions. There are many graphic and highly slightly, my deep sense of the virtues which you exer-
amusing descriptions of men, manners, and scenery, eised towards me ; although I regret that the occasion is
throughout the volumes • but we have not space to par- one of such affliction."
ticularise. The traits of character are well sustained, and The farmer raised his eyes and feeble hands towards
some of the scenes rendered even dramatic by the intro- heaven. " Praise an' glory to your holy name, good God !"
duction of dialogue. American idioms, anecdotes, and he exclaimed. "Praise an' glory to your holy name!
" Jonathanisms," are copious, and many of them highly Now I know that I'm not forgotten, when you brought
original and ludicrous. A vein of good humour prevails back the little kindness I did that boy for your sake, wid
throughout; and, although the author appears to us to so many blessings to me in the hour of my affliction an'
the
have sometimes hit rather hard, and to have lost sight of sufferin' ! Childher remimber this, now that I'm goin'
fact that there are " peculiarities" in our own coun- to lave yez for ever! Remimber always to help the stran-
try as well as in that of Uncle Sam, we forbear expressly ger, an' thim that's poor an' in sorrow. If you do, God
pointing out these trifling aberrations, in consideration of won't forget it to you ; but will bring it back to yez when
our inability within our circumscribed space, to do entire you stand in need of it, as he done to me this day. You
justice to the work in the aggregate. One or two ex- see, childhre dear, how small thrifles o' that kind depend
totracts will be found elsewhere, and we have a few others on one another. If 1 hadn't thought of helpin' his Reve-
rence. here when he was young and away from his own, he
, wouldn't think of callin upon us this day when he was
passin'. You see the hand of God is in it childhre
which it is, indeed, in every thing that passes about us, if
we could only see it as we ought to do. Thin, but I'd
like to look upon your face, Sir, if it's plaisin' to you ? A
little more to the light, Sir. There, I now see you. Ay,
indeed, it's changed for the betther it is—the same mild,
clear countenance, but not sorrowful, as when I seen it
last. Suffer me to put my hand on your head, Sir; I'd
like to bless you before I die, for I can't forget what you
unclhertook to do for your parents."
The priest sat near him ; but finding that he was
scarcely able to raise his hand to his head, he knelt down,
and the farmer, before he communicated the blessing, in-
quired—
" Musha, Sir, may I ax, wor you able to do anything
to help your family as you expected?"
" God," said the priest, "made me the instrument of
raising them from poverty ; they are now comfortable and
happy:"
"Ay ! Well I knew at the time, an' I- said it, that a
blessin' would attind your endayvours. An' now resave
my blessin'. May you never depart from the right way !
May the blessin' of God rest upon you for ever—Amin !
Childhre, I'm gettin' wake ; come near me till, till I bless
you, too, for the last time ! They wor good childhre, Sir,
Sir—they were ever, an always good to me, an' to their
poor mother, your Reverence; an'—God forgive me if
its a sin !—but I feel a great dale o' my heart an' my love
fixed upon them. But sure, I'm their father, an' God, I
hope, will look over it! Now, darlins, afore I bless yez,
I ax your forgiveness if ever I was harsher to yez than I
ought !"
The children with a simultaneous movement encircled
his bed, and could not reply for some minutes.
" Never, father darlin' ! Oh, never did you offind us !
Don't speak in that way, or you'll break our hearts; but
forgive us, father asthore ! Oh, forgive an' bless us, an'
don't remimber against us our folly an' disobedience, for
ifs only now that we see we warn't towards you as we
ought to be. Forgive us an' pardon us !"
He then made them all kneel around his bed, and with
solemn words, and an impressive manner, placed his
hand upon their heads, and blessed them with a virtuous
father's last blessing.
He then called for his wife, and the scene became not
only more touching, but more elevated. There was an
exultation in her manner, and an expression of vivid hope
in her eye, arising from the fact of her husband having
received, and being soothed by, the rites of her church,
that gave evident proof of the unparalleled attachment
borne by persons of her class to the Catholic religion.
The arrival of our hero had been so unexpected, and the
terrors of the tender wife for her husband's soul so great,
that the administration of the sacrament almost super-
seded from her heart every other sensation than that of
devotional triumph. Even now, in the midst of her tears,
that triumph kindled in her eye, with a light that shone in
melancholy beauty upon the bed of death. In propor-
tion, however. as the parting scene—which was to be their
last—began to work with greater power upon her sorrow,
so did this expression gradually fade away. Grief for his
loss resumed its dominion over her heart so strongly, that
their last parting was afflicting even to look upon.
When it was over, Lanigan once more addressed the
priest :
" Now, Sir," he observed, but with great difficulty,
" let me have your blessin' an' your prayers ; an' along
wid that, your Reverence, if you remimber a request I
once made to you"—
" I remember it well," replied the priest; "you allude
to the masses which you wished me to say for you, should
I ever receive orders. Make your mind easy on that
point. I not only shall ofkT up mass for the repose of
your soul, but I can assure you that I have mentioned
you by name in every mass which I celebrated since my
ordination."
He then proceeded to direct the mind of the dying be-
nefactor to such subjects as were best calculated to com-
fort and strengthen him.
About day-break the next morning, this man of, many
virtues, after struggling rather severely for two hours
preceding his death, passed into eternity, there to enjoy
the recompense of a well-spent life.

NOTICES.

" Is there any one here

Present State of Aural Suroery : a Lecture at the Royal
Dispensary. By John Wanison Curtis. 4th edition.
Wil;ttaker.

This is an interesting pamphlet, and the suggestions it
contains on the subject of the public health, are very use-
ful. Ile tout hei on the subject of parks and squares—
and son e good hints may be gathered from perusing
them. tie alludes to the Prince's Park here in terms of
eulogy. Altogether, though the style savours rather of
egotism, yet it is a service to the public; and his remarks
on the deaf and dumb ought to have been carried out
earlier in London and elsewhere, we hope it will not be
lost sight of in our own schools for these pitiable objects
of Heaven's restricted hand.

SELECTIONS.

THE POOR SCHOLAR'S RETURN AFTER

ORDINATION.

From Carleton' :Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry.
No sooner was his ordination completed, than the long
suppressed yearnings after his home and kindred came
upon his spirit with a power that could not be restrained.
He took leave of his friends with a beating heart, and set
out on a delightful summer morning to revisit all that had
been, notwithstanding his long absence and severe trials,
so strongly wrought into his memory and affections. Our
readers may, therefore, suppose him on his journey home,
and permit themselves to be led in imagination to the
house of his former friend, Lanigan, where we must lay
the scene for the present.

Lanigan's residence has the same comfortable and warm
appearance which always distinguishes the habitation of
the independent and virtuous man. What, however, can
the stir, and bustle, and agitation which prevail in it
mean ? The daughters run out to a little mound, or na-
tural terrace, beside the house, and look anxiously to—
wards the road ; then return, and almost immediately ap-
pear again, with the same intense anxiety to catch a
glimpse of some one whom they expect. They look
keenly ; but why is it that their disappointment appears
to be attended with such dismay? They go into their fa-
ther's house once more, wringing their hands, and betray-
ing all the symptoms of affliction. Here is their mother,
too,.coming to peer into the distance, she is rocking with
that motion peculiar to Irishwomen when suffering dis-
tress. She places her open hand upon her brows that she
may collect her sight to a particular spot ; she is blinded
by her tears • breaks out into a low wail, and returns with
something like the darkness of despair on her counte-
nance. She goes into the house, passes through the kit-
chen, and enters into a bed-room ; seats herself on a chair
beside the bed, and renews her low but bitter wail of sor-
row. Her husband is lying in that state which the pea-
santry know usually precedes the agonies of death.

" For the sake of the livin' God," saidhe,on seeing
her, " is there any sign o' them ?"
" Not yet, a sunfish ; but they will so,:n—they must
soon, asthore, be here, an' thin your mind will be asy."
" Oh, Alley, Alley, if you could know what I suffer for
'fraid I'd die widout the priest, you'd pity me l"
" I do pity you astore . but don't be cast down, for I
have my trust in God that he won't desart you in your
last hour. You did what you could, my heart's pride;
you bent before him night an' morning', and sure the
poor neighbour never wint from your door widout lavin'
his blessin' behind him."
The dying man raised his hands feebly from the bed-
clothes ; " Ab !" h exclaimed, " I thought I did a grate
dale, Alley : but now—but now—it appears nothin' to
what I ought to a' done when I could. Still, avourneen,
tay life's not unpleasant when I look back at it; for I
can't remimber that I ever purpoely offinded a livin' mor-
tal. All I want to satisfy me is the priest."
" No, avourneen, you did not; for it wasn't in you to
offind a child."

" Alley, you'll pardon and forgive me acushla, if ever
—if ever I did what was displasin' to you! An' call in the
childhre, till I see them about me—l want to have their
forgiveness, too. I know I'll have it—for they wor good
childhre, an' ever loved me."

The daughters now entered the room, exclaiming—
" Ahir dheelish, (beloved father,) Petber is cumin' by
himself, but no priest ! Blessed Queen of Heaven, what
will we do ! Oh ! father darlin', are you to die widout
the Holy Ointment?"

A dancer said to a Spartan "You cannot stand on one
leg so long as I can." " Perhaps not " said the Spartan,
"but any goose can."
ILL-ASSORTED MARRIAGE.—Life has no wretched.
ness equal to an ill-assorted marriage ; it is the sepulchre
of the heart, haunted by the ghost of past affections, and
hopes gone for ever.—Miss Landon.
VOTING BY BALLOT IN THE UNITED STATES.—Much
has been said on the subject of the ballot in America :
some English tourists have declared that the Americans
absolutely adore it. I can only say I did not see any
strong feelings on the subject, and I cannot think the bal-
lot, as the Americans work it, effects the great objects,
secrecy and security against the undue influence of em-
ployers. A merchant or storekeeper can say to his clerk,
" I expect you are going to vote the democratic Whig
ticket. Here it is, tied with a red string, and Mr. Smith
will go with you, so that you can both vote together."
This Mr. Smith, being a stanch Whig, takes care that the
clerk shall vote that ticket, and accordingly puts it into
the voter's hand when at the window, and the crowd
around see on which side he is voting by the red string.
Besides, politics are such a never-ending subject of con-
versation in the States, that every one has frequently to
confess to what party he belongs, and secrecy cannot be
indulged to any extent. I overheard a " boa (master)
joiner observe to one of his men, " I say, neighbour,
Silas tells me you are a locofoco." "No I aint," was
the answer, " I went the whole anti-ticket last fall."
' Well, 1 expect Silas ought to know, as you both board
in the same house." " Why I was locofoco two years
ago, but I came round when I jined your jiner's store."
—Uncle Sam' &Peculiarities.

The sick man clasped his bands, looked towards heaven,
and groaned aloud.
" Oh, it's hard, this," said he. " It's hard upon me !
Yet I wont be cast down. I'll trust in my good God ;
I'll trust in his blessed name !" . . . .

His wife on hearing that her son was returned without
the priest, sat, with her face shrouded by her apron, weep-
ing in grief that none but they who know the dependence
which those belonging to her church place in its last rites
can comprehend. The children appeared almost dis-
tracted ; their grief had more of that stunning character
which attends unexpected calamity, than of sorrow for
one who is gradually drawn from life.

At length the messenger entered the room, and almost
choked with tears, stated that both priests were absent
that day at Conference, and would not return till late.
The hitherto moderated grief of the wife arose to a itch
much wilder than the death of her husband could, under
ordinary circumstances occasion. To die without abso-
lution—to pass away into eternity " unanointed, un-
anealed"—without being purified from the inherent stains
of humanity—was to her a much deeper affliction than her
final separation from him. She cried in tones of the most
piercing despair, and clapped her hands, as they do who
weep over the dead. Had he died in the calm confidence
of having received the Viaticum, or Sacratneut before
death, his decease would have had nothing remarkably
calamitous in it, beyond usual occurrencesof a similar na-
ture. Now the grief was intensely bitter in consequence
of his expected departure without the priest. His sons