546 
*¢ many-coloured life ;”? and if we cannot 
know too much, even of the possibilities, 
we cannot, surely, of the realities of society. 
The writer of the volumes before us pro- 
fesses to furnish realities ; and though the 
details are not of a very instructive or strik- 
ing interest, they are capable of exciting, in 
certain states of the diaphragm, a hearty 
laugh or two, and are probably the best his 
experience could supply. The performance 
may, perhaps, prompt others, who have more 
to communicate; and thus, after the fashion 
of Falstaff, he may not only be funny him- 
self, but awake the recollections of fun in 
others. 
The hero of the piece is the son of a Cork 
merchant—a dealer in bacon and butter, 
who is seized with a passion for a red coat, 
and finally abandons the desk for a cornetcy 
of dragoons. He is in love, too, with a 
neighbouring rector’s daughter, though he 
shas never told his love; and the develop- 
ment of these softer feelings, with the oppo- 
sition he meets with, and his final triumph, 
make up the plot of the story ; but all this 
is of so insignificant, or, at least now-a-days, 
of so common a kind, that it is not at all 
worth while to waste good paper in tracing 
the steps of it. Nor is the story by any 
means the writer’s prime object—that is 
rather 4n exhibition of professional scenes 
and occasional adventure. The new cornet 
joins his regiment at a small town in Ire- 
land, and a large space is occupied with his 
initiations into the socialities, or rather the 
debaucheries of the mess, and the mysteries 
of the drill, told with some relish of humour, 
surely ; but the incidents generally are of 
too boisterous and schoolboy-like a cast, to 
ensure sympathy, except among the rude 
brothers of the mess. The first night, in 
‘spite of all resolution and actual resistance, 
he is made dead drunk, and left by the party 
‘laid out as a corpse, on the table, with 
candles placed round him, and regularly 
waked. Though cheated at the first start, 
‘by an officer of the corps, in the purchase of 
a horse—this is universally, we believe, a 
very venial offence among gentlemen of this 
cast—he is pretty much on the qui vive, 
and sharp enough to get through his novi- 
‘ciate with tolerable credit. The riding- 
master he softens by a well-timed purchase, 
and the adjutant’s good-will he secures by 
giving punch-parties. One of the first acts 
of service is a still hunt, that is, aiding an 
excise-officer in seizing illicit distillers. The 
party were, in this case, baffled by the dex- 
terity of an urchin of ten or twelve ; and every 
intelligent and considerate person must wish 
for the same result in every case, and depre- 
cate the continuance ofa system that requires 
a military force to support it. These moun- 
tain makers of potheen—like smugglers and 
poachers—are created by the laws, and by 
unequal laws; for they tempt the poor into 
crime for the benefit of the rich. Prohibi- 
tions of this kind are against natural feel- 
‘ings, and undemanded for the security, or 
° 
: Monthly Review of Literature, 
[May, 
for any general advantage of society. But 
the particular adventure, from which we 
have thus been led, is well told, and must 
be classed among the best morceaua of the 
book—the best hit at a description of active 
scenes. Considerable efforts are made in 
getting up the ludicrous and perilous—par- 
ticularly crossing a torrent in a post-chaise— 
a sort of mock corporation scene of glut- 
tony, at Cork—and a Sunday dinner, given 
by a man more prompt in offering hospi- 
talities than affording them; but there is 
too often in these efforts a want of concen- 
trating object—a certain hardness and angu- 
larity in the details—the consequence of a 
want of practice, probably—which has occa- 
sionally a very disappointing effect: they 
fall dead-born. 
At Clonmell, during the assizes, the cor- 
net visits the court, and listens to a trial, 
which is, at all events, no bad caricature, if 
it be not, as is probable enough, a faithful 
portraiture of the scene. On struggling 
through the crowd, he found the clerk of 
the crown calling on the prisoners. 
Clerk.— Patrick Gilloughly, are you ready for 
your trial?” 
Prisoner.—* Na, my lord.” 
Clerk,—Well, you must be ready to-morrow. 
Timothy Spillaan, are you ready for your trial?” 
Prisoner.—* My lard,my wutnesses arn’t come 
yit ; they’ll be here a Monday.” 
Clerk.—*« The court can wait no longer, you 
promised to be ready yesterday. Gentlemen of 
the jury, you are to understand, that in No, 203, 
Timothy Spillaan stands indicted, for that he, not 
having the fear of God before his eyes, but being 
moved and seduced by the instigation of the 
devil—” 
Prisoner.—* Och, my lard, my lard, I’m as 
innocent as the shyld unborn.” 
Clerk.—* Hold your tongue, Sir; his lordship 
will hear you, by and by.—On the third May 
&e. &c. with a certain oak stick, value six 
pence.” 
Prisoner.—* Och, my lard, my lard, I didn’t do 
it.” 
Clerk.—‘* Silence, Sir.—Which he, the said 
Timothy Spillaan, then and there held, did assault 
one Patrick Hurliby; and in and upon his head 
did give him one mortal wound, of the breadth 
of three inches, and of the depth of four inches, 
&e. mo.” 
This is followed by the counsel for the 
crown, who states the particulars of the 
case, and that in astyle of peculiarity, which, 
no doubt, will be readily recognized by 
those who are acquainted with the Irish bar. 
Then comes forward a witness. 
Counsel.—* Did you know Patrick Hurlihy?”’ 
Witness.—(pretending not to hear, and in- 
clining his body towards the counsel)—“ What’s 
that, Sir?” 
Counsel.—“ Did you know Patrick Hurlihy ?” 
Witness —* DidI know him?” 
‘Counsel.—* Yes, Sir ;—did you know him?” ~ 
Witness.—* Did 1 know bim?” 
Judge.—* Why don’t you answer the question, 
witness? Did youknow him?” 
