les, with
a coward's dread, before the sneer of the world. The poor man,
however, only appeals to this test on a very different score. The
"world" may prescribe to him the fashion of his hat, or the colour of
his coat--it may dictate the _locale_ of his residence, and the style
of his household, and he may, so far as in him lies, comply with a
tyranny so absurd; but with the free sentiments of his nature--his
honest pride, his feeling sympathy--with the open current of his warm
affection he suffers no interference: of this no man shall be the
arbiter. If, then, the shoals and quicksands of the world deprive him
of that tranquil guise and placid look--the enviable gift of richer
men--he has, in requital, the unrestricted use of those greater gifts
that God has given him, untrammelled by man's opinion, uncurbed by
the control of "the world."

Each supports a tyranny after his own kind:--

The rich man--above the dictates of fashion--subjects the thoughts of
his mind and the meditations of his heart to the world's rule.

The poor man--below it--keeps these for his prerogative, and has no
slavery save in form.

Happy the man who, amid all the seductions of wealth, and all the
blandishments of fortune, can keep his heart and mind in the healthy
exercise of its warm affections and its generous impulses. But still
happier he, whose wealth, the native purity of his heart--can limit
his desires to his means, and untrammelled by ambition, undeterred by
fear of failure, treads the lowly but peaceful path in life, neither
aspiring to be great, nor fearing to be humble.

[Illustration]

A NUT FOR ST. PATRICK'S NIGHT.

There is no cant offends me more than the oft-repeated criticisms on
the changed condition of Ireland. How very much worse or how very much
better we have become since this ministry, or that measure--what a
deplorable falling off!--what a gratifying prospect! how poor! how
prosperous! &c. &c. Now, we are exactly what and where we used to be:
not a whit wiser nor better, poorer nor prouder. The union, the relief
bill, the reform and corporation acts, have passed over us, like the
summer breeze upon the calm water of a lake, ruffling the surface for
a moment, but leaving all still and stagnant as before. Making new
laws for the use of a people who would not obey the old ones, is much
like the policy of altering the collar or the cuffs of a coat for a
savage, who insists all the while on going naked. Howe