U2 RESTIVENESS. 



Pippin seized him somewhere about the shoulders or chest, and, says Mr. Watts 

 (Mr. Castle/ s informant) ' 1 know of nothing I can compare it to, so much as 

 a dog shaking a rat.' Fortunately for the poor fellow, his body was very thickly 

 covered with clothes, for on such occasions an Irishman of this class is fond 

 of displaying his wardrobe, and if he lias three coats at all in the world, he is sure 

 to put them all on. 



"This circumstance in all probability saved the individual who had so gallantly 

 volunteered the forlorn hope. His person was so deeply enveloped in extra- 

 teguments, that the horse never got fairly hold of his skin, and 1 understand that 

 he escaped with but little injury, beside the sadly rent and totally ruined state 

 of his holyday toggery. 



" The Whisperer was sent for, who, having arrived, was shut up with the 

 horse all night, and in the morning he exhibited this hitherto ferocious animal, 

 following him about the course like a dog — lying down at his command — suffer- 

 ing his mouth to be opened, and any person's hand to be introduced into it — in 

 short, as quiet almost as a sheep. 



" He came out the same meeting, arid won his race, and his docility continued 

 satisfactory for a considerable time ; but at the end of about three years his 

 vice returned, and then he is said to have killed u man, for which he was 

 destroyed." 



It may not be uninteresting, in this connexion, to give some account of this 

 tamer of quadruped vice. However strange and magical his power may seem 

 to be, there is no doubt of the truth of the account that is given of him. The 

 Rev. Mr. Townsend, in his Statistical Survey of Cork, first introduced him to 

 the notice of the public generally, although his fame had long spread over that 

 part of Ireland. We, however, give the following extract from Croker's Fairy 

 Legends and Traditions of Ireland, Part II. p. 200, for his performances seem the 

 work of some elfin sprite, rather than of a rude and ignorant horse-breaker. 



" He was an awkward, ignorant rustic of the lowest class, of the name of 

 Sullivan, but better known by the appellation of the Whisperer. His occupation 

 was horse-breaking. The nickname he acquired from the vulgar notion of his 

 being able to communicate to the animal what he wished by means of a whisper ; 

 and the singularity of his method seemed in some degree to justify the supposi- 

 tion. In his own neighbourhood the notoriety of the fact made it seem less 

 remarkable, but I doubt if any instance of similar subjugating talent is to be 

 found on record. As far as the sphere of his control extended, the boast of 

 veni, vidi, vici, was more justly claimed by Sullivan than even by Csesar himself. 



" How his art was acquired, and in what it consisted, is likely to be for ever 

 unknown, as he has lately (about 1810) left the world without divulging it. His 

 son, who follows the same trade, possesses but a small portion of the art, having 

 either never learned the true secret, or being incapable of putting it into prac- 

 tice. The wonder of his skill consisted in the celerity of the operation, which 

 was performed in privacy, without any apparent means of coercion. Every 

 description of horse, or even mule, whether previously broken or unhandled, 

 whatever their peculiar habits or vices might have been, submitted without 

 show of resistance to the magical influence of his art, and in the short space of 

 half an hour became gentle and tractable. This effect, though instantaneously 

 produced, was generally durable. Though more submissive to him than to 

 others, the animals seemed to have acquired a docility unknown before. 



" When sent for to tame a vicious beast, for which he was either paid according 

 to the distance, or generally two or three guineas, he directed the stable, in which 

 he and the object of the experiment were, to be shut, with orders not to open the 

 door until a signal was given. After a tete-d-tete of about half an hour, during 

 which little or no bustle was heard, the signal was made, and, upon opening 



