appellation, "A Bill (as amended by the Committee,) to amend the representation of the people, &c. &c." There seemed something so odd in the coincidence between this chance selection and the evening's conversation, that I determined to re-peruse it. More in sorrow than in anger, I waded through its various preliminary clauses, and concluding condemnatory schedules. Throwing myself back in despair, a long train of disagreeable images floated before my disturbed imagination. The whole beautifully-proportioned and profitable machinery of paper votes, the snug brotherhood of boroughs, places, profits, and pensions, together with all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of mighty membermongering, cozening, and corruption, all my poor little ones of schedule A, at one fell swoop torn off from the roll of our glorious constitution! A lawyer's occupation gone! Boroughs huddled up with shires in indecent and unwilling union,-constrained connexion of uncongenial counties,—the ancient splendour of royalties forced into the democratic arms of upstart and mushroom manufactories, or perchance for ever blotted out from the map of political power,-viewing all these, I wept for my unhappy country. Musing, like old Mortality, on this painful record of a goodly army of martyred greatness, a heavy sleep overcame my maudlin sensibilities, and disclosed to my astonished "mind's eye a new host of frightful representations. Methought I had bent my steps towards St. Giles's. On the way up, I was particularly struck by the altered appearance of every thing around me. A new freshness, a new health and contentment seemed to glow in the countenances of our mechanics, while a teeming commerce appeared transacting at every counter, behind which stood the pleased and prosperous shopman, whose windows displayed a list of prices, which made his goods within the reach of all, even of the poorest. Every thing, in fine, bespoke a wealth, a happiness, and comfort, I had not hitherto in any city observed. I could have fancied myself transported into the fabled land where roast pigeons fly into the mouths of the inhabitants, and fountains of champagne bubble up perennially to kiss their lips. There was one thing which struck me with peculiar force. The brazen sceptre which adorned the statue of the Grand Monarque in the crossing of Hanover Street, was wrested from the Royal grasp. Regretting this unaccountable change, and the loss sustained by the arts, I pressed forward on my journey. A new subject of marvel soon occurred. In the window of a flourishing-looking shop, I read the startling notice, "JUST PUBLISHED, TAIT'S MAGAZINE FOR JANUARY, ́1836 !—Did I dream? Where was I? Again I looked, there 1836 still met my eyes, it was incomprehensible,—had I slept over the intermediate space? This was a mystery I could not understand. A tide of men, in merry congratulation, poured down the Earthen Mound. I hurried up, but every one seemed to avoid me as an unclean thing. As I turned into the High Street, a vast congregation had assembled, cheering an individual mounted on a triumphal car. Do I see, do I hear aright? Hustings erected at the Cross of Edinburgh, and the man of the people returned as its independent representative! I could not bear the sight. I entered the Parliament Square. A sombre and unwonted stillness, not the hurrying to and fro of ordinary days, had possession of the place. As I crossed the threshold of the great hall, I gazed with redoubled astonishment on the scene before me. Every thing was changed. There was none of that confusion and noise, none of that crowding and congregating, none of that clamouring of angry counsel wrangling at the side bar I had usually observed; even the jesters of the stove were silent ; the voice of the crier was hushed, and his desk desolate as the walls of Balclutha ! Yet was the hall not untenanted. There might be about two hundred individuals there assembled. Heavens! who are they? Their glaring eyes and haggard looks must now portend some dreadful purpose! One of them, I remembered in his high and palmy state, but he now appeared with a pale and deathlike hue o'erspreading his once noble countenance. He thus addressed me :-' "The game is now up,— years have proved that the Reform Bill has saved the country, but we— we are ruined. Jobbing, our only hope, has been wrested from our hands, we are held up to the world's scorn as false prophets and placeless politicians, but we will not succumb,-no-on this day are gathered together from all parts of the country, the sole remnants of a once great party now breathing forth its last; there be yet a few makers of votes, whom men call political agents, and traders in votes, whom men call boroughmongers, who have the courage to consummate this terrible sacrifice which is now preparing,—who will suffer martyrdom rather than change their opinions, detestable though they may be.” A vast mass of musty parchments was borne into the hall, and piled up at the foot of the statue of Lord Melville, which those around regarded as a fitting altar-piece to receive the offering, an altar-piece at which they had all often, and not unanswered, kneeled. An emphatic address was delivered by one of the members, who, holding aloft, what I was told, was a copy of the Reform Bill, called down imprecations on the heads of those who were its promoters, its authors, and admirers. Applying to it a lighted torch, he thrust it blazing into the pile before him, cast himself upon it, and called upon those around him to follow his example. At this time a new and strange occurrence distracted their attention—a huge and ponderous cheese, on which was graven the name of a wealthy western county, came rolling along the floor. This did not fail to attract the attention of a large fat man, who seemed by no means ambitious of the honours of martyrdom. He looked amongst his former friends, but they seemed to proffer nothing worthy of his acceptance. By and by an extraordinary metamorphosis seemed to take place as he gazed with riveted delight on the tempting bait that travelled past before him. His ears began to prick up his face, from which now protruded a long and wiry whisker, commenced an unnatural elongation-his arms seemed gradually to assume the appearance of fore legs; and at last a long tail began to emanate from the hinder part of his now embrowned and brutified body. Round and round about he whisked in delighted pursuit of the said tail, gambolling and squeaking as if proud of his newly acquired honours, when off he banged in the chase, succeeded in running down the game, and disappeared from my view into some musty hole, to chew and to mumble it at leisure. He was quickly followed by nearly the whole of the assemblage, all of whom underwent the same extraordinary transmogrification. With the exception of myself, one only remained. He lay stretched on the blazing pile, imprecating curses on the heads of the deserters. I wept for the departure of political consistency, and as he beheld the tears trickle down my cheeks, he called me to come near to him. I advanced within his reach,-" Thou alone art worthy to share the glorious death of the last of the Boroughmongers." Saying this, he dragged me amongst the flames, and clasped me as with a giant's strength within his scorching embrace. In vain I struggled to escape-the flames seized on my quivering members. I looked up, in beseeching prayer, to the statue overhead, and beheld, dropping from the cold image of my former patron, tears, which but too clearly announced that the interest he and his once possessed was now gone for ever. I cast my eyes towards the painted window, which, instead of the figure of justice, now represented the angel of destruction, trampling on the ruins of rotten boroughs, on whose streets was imprinted the damning alpha of Reform. A long array of martyred patriots, leading in chains those forsworn jurymen who had convicted, and those corrupt judges who had condemned them, filled up the picture. Gazing on these my heart sickened within me. The dying curses of the wretch beside me added fresh horrors to my situation. The heat now became suffocating and intolerable; the flames reached all around me. Death, with his sunken eye and bloodless skull, hovered round, his arm uplifted for the blow. With a fiendlike stare he launched the fatal arrow. I bounded up with a horrid shriek, and-awoke in a devil of a fright. What was my astonishment to find my feet nearly fried by the fire, the Bill I had been reading, and which I still held in my hand, in a blaze, from being placed too near the candle, and my man John, with hands upraised, in the act of throwing over me a pitcher of cold water, fresh drawn from the pump! IRISH TITHES. IN Scotland, where the right of resuming the wealth bestowed upon an intolerant and oppressive church was, de facto, asserted, several centuries ago, we find it difficult to account for the infatuation which still continues to see something sacred in the institution of tithes. We would not exactly go the length of recommending that the example set by our ancestors should be followed in all its details. The portion of the produce of the land which was entailed upon the Episcopalian Church of Ireland, may be better bestowed than upon a rapacious and domineering aristocracy. But the application of the tithes of Ireland, which the will of the nation has decreed shall no longer be applied to the support of an anti-national priesthood, is not the subject which we propose to discuss at present, any more than the abstract expediency of tithing as a mode of impost. We may be more usefully employed in submitting to the English and Scottish public-which, in this matter is shamefully ignorant—a detailed account of the real nature and pressure of the tithe system in Ireland, occasionally interspersing the dry and revolting narrative with such reflections as naturally suggest themselves. We are enabled to do this in the most satisfactory manner, from the returns made to the Catholic Association. The census-book, compiled by order of that Assembly, has been kindly placed in our hands—a favour which he alone who has waded through the mass of unsatisfactory Parliamentary papers, or yet more unsatisfactory private reports, labouring to attain clear information on this subject, can adequately appreciate. These returns, if complete, would furnish the finest body of moral statistics that per haps ever existed, within the same compass; and yet we cannot regret that they are imperfect, for this imperfection was caused by the wise and noble measure which gave peace to the consciences of seven millions of British subjects. The returns were interrupted by emancipation. The fragment of the blade, however, that remains would be sufficient to give a death-blow to tithes, had not the general combination of the Irish people already extinguished them. The returns embrace many subjects. The first column contains the number of Catholics in the parish; the second that of Not-Catholics; the third the amount of tithes; the fourth of church cess; the fifth of glebe; the sixth of bishop's lands; the seventh contains information respecting schools; the eighth respecting places of religious worship; the ninth contains a list of the principal landed. proprietors, whether absentee or resident; the tenth remarks on the state of cultivation, with such other general observations as were deemed proper to communicate. One word as to the authority of this valuable document. We regard it as entitled to the highest degree of credit. The returns were made, in almost every instance, by the Roman Catholic clergyman of the parish, attested by his signature, published in the newspapers, and circulated through the empire. If incorrect, they were open to contradiction and exposure. The full blaze of publicity was about them; a vigilant, active, wealthy party, with an able and not very scrupulous portion of the press at its command, was watching for any instance of misrepresentation or error. As we are not aware that any objection of moment has been made to them, it is unnecessary to say more. If respectability of character, the fullest publicity, and the scrutinizing examination of enemies, cannot secure fidelity in such returns, we know not what precautions can secure it. Without further preface we address ourselves to our task. In the three parishes of Magherafelt, Arboe, and Clonoe, (diocese of Armagh) there were, at the time the return was made :— Catholics, 11,626 Amount of Tithes alone, £1,383 a-year; independent of 215 acres of glebe in the first parish; a house and glebe, worth £200 a-year, in the second; and a house and glebe in the third, worth £100 a-year. The total sum, therefore, paid—not for 6,089 members of the Established Church, but for the proportion of its adherents contained in 6,089 Non-Catholics— amounts to within a few pounds of £2000 a-year. This in a parish where nearly two-thirds of the inhabitants are Catholic! The Catholics of these three parishes, consequently, pay for the spiritual necessities of perhaps 3000 Protestants, about £1200 a-year. A reader, whose perceptions of justice have not been blunted by early participation in something similar to that iniquitous system of jobbing and plunder which prevails in Ireland, will think this sufficiently unjust; but what will his surprise be when he is told that to this sum of £2000 a-year, he is to add "an immense tract of church lands," in the same district? When he is further informed, that the Catholic inhabitants of one parish are in such a state of poverty, that their own chapel is in a miserable, decaying state, can he wonder they should detest the Establishment, which clothes itself in splendour from the money of the poor, while the services of their religion are dishonoured and disabled by the distress which that Establishment occasions? If he were further informed, that, although the 3 Establishment possesses the tithes, the glebes and parsonages-although it possesses "the immense tract of church lands"-the poor Catholics, who have a clergy of their own to support, and chapels to build, out of the earnings of an ill-requited industry, are heavily taxed for the erection and maintenance of the Protestant Church; and for salaries, to an amount regulated by Protestants alone, paid to the Protestant clerk, sexton, bell-ringer, pew-opener, &c. &c., with, perhaps, their assistants : -if all the iniquitous jobs that are hourly spawned by this system of legalized plunder were fully opened up-if he could enlarge his mind to an adequate conception of its mingled impudence, hypocrisy, fraud, and oppression, wonder at any isolated outrage would give way to astonishment at the patience which long familiarity with misgovernment had produced in the Irish people. In the diocese of Derry we take by chance the parishes of Langfield, Lifford and Camus, West Ardstraw and Malin, in which the numbers stand thus: Catholics, 18,420 In these parishes, where the Catholics exceeded the members of every other denomination, by upwards of 6000, or one-third, the tithes amounted to £3,840 a-year. Besides this large sum, the glebe of one parish amounted in value to £180 a-year; of another, to £179; of another to £200, independent of 100 acres of detached land; and of another, the glebe contained 300 acres. Besides this, the bishop's lands, in one parish, amount to 300 acres ; in another, they are "considerable ;" and in a third, "extensive." To these large sums must be added the church-cess, of which we find only a return in the parish of Langfield, where it amounted to £110 a-year. If it be estimated for the others, in the same proportion, the sums paid stand thus :— Tithes, Glebes and land, about £3,840 480 1000 £5,320 We find, therefore, for the proportion of Episcopalians, in 12,371 Not-Catholics, the unconscionable sum of £5,320 a-year paid; threefifths of which is levied off Catholics, deriving no earthly advantagewith no compensation of any kind for it-most of whom are very poor, and all of whom must regard their contributions to the Establishment much in the same manner as an early Christian did the offering of sacrifice on a heathen altar. Furthermore, there are the bishop's lands, the precise amount of which we have no data for estimating. Upon looking to another column, under the head of Langfield, we find that it contains "two good churches, one chapel not half large enough." The reader perhaps, on perusing the first part of this pregnant commentary, pictures to himself scenes of rustic comfort and happiness-the cheerful Sunday morning, the pretty church, and the decent crowds moving towards it. But such fancies must instantly be dispelled, by the reflection that the blanket of the Catholic peasant has been often sold, the potato taken from the hand of his squalid child, and his own heart wrung with grief to furnish that very elegance of the church he admires. Often, while the members of the Establishment are seated in their comfortable pews, half the Catholic population, unable to find room in their little, cold, unplastered, shabby chapel, are |