my heart in having prevented the sanctioning of any part of so promiscuous and unjustifiable a medley, by the attendance of any of the members of my dear family; and they will one day thank me. When the object is avowedly an act of worship, all is right, let who will sing and play: but when it is avowedly an act of amusement, religion, rightly felt and understood, forbids the profane performance of singingmen and singing-women, trifling with the things that belong to our everlasting peace, and turning them into mockery.'-Memoirs, p. 382. In reference to the same subject, Mr. Richmond had previously written to his wife as follows: 'I have never had but one opinion on the subject of these prostitutions of religion and music, at these theatrical, and, as I think, unwarrantable medleys. I wish you had the good sentiments of dear John Newton on the public oratorio of the Messiah at hand. I deeply lament that any who in other respects, so justly deserve the name of consistent Christians, should so little fathom the corruptions of their own hearts, and be so insensible to the dangerous tendency of public amusements which unite all the levity of the world with the professed sanctity of religious performances. Think not that I blame any one but myself, for not long since making my sentiments on this ensnaring subject better known to those so near and dear to me. It is somewhat singular that I should, with many Christian friends of all ranks in Edinburgh and Scotland, be making a firm stand against the principle and the practice of a musical festival held here, at the very time that I must also make as firm a stand against the same thing in the South. It is contrary to every feeling I can entertain on the subject. We have forsworn all these things on principle, and what is religious character and credit worth, if consistency is to be sacrificed?' That no man in England loved music better than Legh Richmond, can be attested by all who knew him. He not only delighted in it, as an amateur performer, but composed several pieces, to words furnished by his friends, and published them. Indeed the very soul of music must have pervaded the spirit of the man who wrote the descriptive parts of the Dairyman's Daughter, and the Negro Servant. We have, therefore, in the foregoing strong and solemn protest, a striking instance of triumphant principle, overpowering a most trying temptation. We may well glory in the grace given to this eminent man of God; and thankfully learn of him, as an appointed teacher of righteousness. He has now been admitted to join the full and rapturous chorus of heaven. Let us seriously ask ourselves this question—Could Legh Richmond speak to us from thence, would he retract what he has so faithfully written, and advise us to be less watchful against the pollutions of the world— less jealous for the glory of the Lord of Hosts? EDITOR.] ON A CHILD OF TWO-AND-A-HALF YEARS' OLD, WHO WIPED THE TEARS OF HIS FATHER WITH HIS DYING HAND. PALE was the little polish'd brow, That lately bloom'd so fair; Upon his sorrowing father's face, He gazed with dying eye, And so he wiped those weeping eyes Yes,-ere that gentle soul forsook A guiding cherub to that home Where every tear is dry. S L. H. SIGOURNEY. HOSPITALITY IN IRELAND. IRISH HOSPITALITY' is proverbial; but it is not generally known that its origin is to be traced to the legal enactments of a period long antecedent to the introduction of Christianity. The Brehon laws were very express on the subject, as the following quotation will show. It must be premised, that the raths referred to were the dwellings of the natives, composed of hurdles, very slightly put together, and easily removeable whenever the inhabitants of a village might agree to shift their quarters. Scattered over the wild and beautiful country, these raths, or enclosures, were like so many encampments, of which the tents might at any time be struck, and pitched on another-perhaps a distant spot. 'Whatever magnificent structures might have been erected for occasions of state, or for religious worship, it is certain,' says Leland, that both princes and people dwelt in houses slightly composed of hurdles. Among a rude people,' he continues, hospitality was a principal virtue. It was enjoined by law; and as neither lords nor tenants were bound to each other, as the whole tribe might migrate to some more favourable district, the Brehon institutes expressly enjoin that no rath shall break up suddenly, lest the traveller should be disappointed of his expected reception.... Even the lowest of the people claimed reception and refreshment by an almost perfect right and so ineffectual is the flux of many centuries to efface the ancient manners of a people, that at this day the wandering beggar enters the house of a farmer or a gentleman, with as much ease and freedom as an inmate. The benevolent spirit of Christianity served to enforce and countenance such manners. 'The most holy men of heaven,' say the Irish laws, 6 were remarkable for hospitality; and the gospel commands us to receive the sojourner, to entertain him, and to relieve his wants.''1 An incident occurred, about four years ago, that strikingly exemplified the remark above quoted. It was singular enough, that, at the very time, I was descanting on the Irish character to a friend who had never visited that country; and who used sometimes to smile at my warm descriptions of what, after all, I felt that they were very far from doing justice to. On that day I brought forth Leland to corroborate my assertions. My cottage stood beside one of the principal roads leading from a sea port to London; and many a call was made at its door by way-faring Irishmen. On the morning in question, I had waxed somewhat warm, in maintaining that the ancient spirit, referred to by Leland, had not yet evaporated from the land, when information was brought up stairs, that a poor traveller was asking alms at the door: and he comes from Ireland,' added the maid. 'Then he shall be entertained, and have his wants relieved,' said I, with rather a resentful glance at my friend, who followed me down stairs. There, to be sure, was a genuine Paddy, neat as 1 Leland's History of Ireland; Preliminary Discourse. |