proof of its excellence. My dear child, give up your Irish harp, and 

 your Irish howl, and study Italian music; you are worthy of knowing 

 it ; you have a true musical organization, but it is all perverted." 



Mr. Kirwan was of a kindly and feeling character ; many stories 

 are told of his affection for his mother, his grief for a temporary 

 separation from her in his boyish days ; and even the illness in- 

 duced by his grief. In his mature age, it is said that when he was 

 informed of the death of his friend Saussure, he absolutely shed 

 tears, although his friendship was only founded on correspondence 

 and similarity of pursuits. His humane disposition caused him to 

 form strong attachments to animals ; he was fond of making pets, and 

 these were sometimes of an unusual kind. When he was living in the 

 county of Galway, some of his people captured a wild, fierce, young 

 eagle, and presented it to him. He hit upon the following mode 

 of taming it: he starved it for one or two days, and during the 

 whole time caused a boy to tease it in its cage, in order to prevent 

 its sleeping. He then made his appearance, and, having beaten 

 and scolded the boy, he drove him away, as if in anger; he next pre- 

 sented a plate of meat to the eagle ; and by repetition of this pro- 

 cess a few times, the affections of the bird were won, and he became 

 devotedly attached to his master. When Mr. Kirwan walked or 

 even rode about his grounds, the eagle was his companion, some- 

 times perched on his shoulder, sometimes soaring in the sky, and 

 wheeling in many a circumvolution until he again descended to his 

 master's shoulder. But the poor bird was doomed to be the sub- 

 ject of a woeful tragedy. A visitor, who knew nothing of Mr. Kir- 

 wen's favourite, happened to be out shooting, and on his way home 

 saw the eagle descending from the sky to meet his master, who was 

 at a little distance, taking his accustomed walk. The sportsman 

 levelled, fired, and down fell the royal bird, dead, almost at his 

 master's feet. Mr. Kirwan's grief is not to be described ; he long 

 mourned his poor favourite. 



At another time he had cultivated a friendship of a different 

 kind ; his pets were two Irish wolf-dogs, two mastiffs, and two 

 greyhounds, all of uncommon size. They all accompanied him when 

 he went abroad, and on one occasion, perhaps, saved his life. 

 One day he went on horseback to visit a friend, attended by his 



