200 



HEPORTIXG AND REPOBTEES. 



try the stomach less than the head, 

 the heart, and the temper bowls 

 that will not roll right well-laid 

 schemes that will ' gang aglee' and 

 ill winds that blow with the perti- 

 nacity of the monsoon. Of these, 

 Providence has allotted me a full 

 share ; but still, paradoxical as it 

 may sound, my burden has been 

 greatly lightened by a load of books. 

 The manner of this will be best un- 

 derstood from a feline illustration. 

 Everybody has heard of the two 

 Kilkenny cats, who devoured each 

 other ; but it is not so generally 

 known that they left behind them 

 an orphan kitten, which, true to the 

 breed, began to eat itself up, till it 

 was diverted from the operation by 

 a mouse. Now, the human mind, 

 under vexation, is like that kitten, 

 for it is apt to prey upon itself, unless 

 drawn oif by a new object ; and 

 none better for the purpose than a 

 book ; for example, one of Defoe's ; 

 for who, in reading his thrilling 

 History of the Great Plague, would 



not be reconciled to a few little 

 ones? 



" Many, many a dreary, weary 

 hour have I got over many a 

 gloomy misgiving postponed many 

 a mental or bodily annoyance for- 

 gotten, by help of the tragedies and 

 comedies of our dramatists and 

 novelists ! Many a trouble lias been 

 soothed by the still small voice of 

 the moral philosopher many a 

 dragon-like care charmed to sleep 

 by the sweet song of the poet ; for all 

 which I cry incessantly, not aloud, 

 but in my heart, Thanks and honour 

 to the glorious masters of the pen, 

 and the great inventors of the press ! 



" Such has been my own experi- 

 ence of the blessing and comfort of 

 literature and intellectual pursuits ; 

 and of the same mind, doubtless, 

 was Sir Humphry Davy, who went 

 for ' consolations in Travel," not to 

 the inn or the posting house, but to 

 his library and his books. I am, 

 gentlemen, yours, very truly, 



"Tnos. HOOD." 



REPORTING AND REPORTERS, 



W1LBERFORCE AKD MORGAN 

 O'SULLIVAN. 



A certain popular debate, which 

 was about English labourers, being 

 one evening unusually dull, Jack 

 Finnarty, who had but a short time 

 before been imported from Tipper- 

 ary, said to the only other reporter 

 in the gallery at the time, that he 

 felt very drowsy, and that he would 

 be after taking a little bit of a nap, 

 if he would tell him when he awoke 

 anything which might take place. 

 The other agreed, and Jack, in a 

 moment, was fast locked in the 

 arms of Morpheus. An hour 

 elapsed, and after half a dozen 

 yawns, Jack opened his eyes. 



" Has anything happened ?" was 

 his first question to his friend. 



"To be sure there has/' said the 



other, whose name was Morgan 

 O'Sullivan. 



" Has there, by the powers ?" ex- 

 claimed Jack, pricking up his ears 

 in the plenitude of his anxiety to 

 learn what it was. 



" Yes, Jack, and very important^ 

 too." 



"And why don't you be after 

 telling it me at once 1 What was it 

 about ?" 



"About the virtue of the Irish 

 potato, Jack." 



"Was it the Irish potato, you 

 said, Morgan 1" 



"The Irish potato, and a most 

 eloquent speech it was." 



"Thunder and lightning, then, 

 and why don't you tell it me ?" 



" I'll read it from my note-book, 

 Jack, and you'll take it down as I 

 go on," said Morgan. 



