Of an opponent who tried to do him an injury, and who plumed himself upon his cleverness, Sheridan neatly remarked: "I could laugh at his malice, but not at his wit." A clergyman, who desired to annotate Shakespeare's plays, took a specimen of his work to Sheridan, and asked his opinion. "Sir," said Sheridan, shortly, "I wonder people won't mind their own affairs; you may spoil your own Bible if you please, but pray, let ours alone." During the debate on Pitt's Indian Bill, when John Robinson was Secretary to the Treasury, Sheridan, one evening when Fox's majorities were decreasing, said: "Mr. Speaker, this is not at all to be wondered at, when a member is employed to corrupt everybody in order to obtain votes." Upon this, there was a general outcry made by everybody in the House: " Who is it? Name him! Name him!' "Sir," said Sheridan to the Speaker, "I shall not name the person. It is an unpleasant and invidious thing to do so, and therefore I shall not name him. But don't suppose, sir, that I abstain because there is any difficulty in naming; I could do that, sir, as soon as you could say Jack Robinson." When some one proposed to tax milestones, Sheridan protested that it would not be constitutional or fair, as they could not meet to remonstrate. Lord Lauderdale having declared his intention to circulate some witticism of Sheridan's, the latter hastily exclaimed: "Pray don't, my dear Lauderdale; a joke in your mouth is no laughing matter!" Lord Erskine on one occasion said that "a wife was only a tin canister tied to one's tail." Lady Erskine was justly annoyed at this remark, and Sheridan dashed off this: "Lord Erskine, at woman presuming to rail, And fair Lady Anne, while the subject he carries on, But wherefore degrading? Considered aright, A canister's polished and useful and bright; That's the fault of the puppy to whom it is tied." MRS. CLEMENT SHORTER (DORA SIGERSON). DORA SIGERSON is the eldest daughter of Dr. George Sigerson, F.R.U.I., a distinguished scholar and man of letters, and of Mrs. Hester Sigerson, a woman of fine literary talent. She was born in Dublin, was educated at home, and lived in Dublin till her marriage to Mr. Clement Shorter, then editor of The Illustrated London News, in July, 1895. She has published Verses' (1894); The Fairy Changeling and Other Poems' (1897); My Lady's Slipper and Other Poems' (1899); Ballads and Poems (1899); The Father Confessor' (1900); and 'The Woman who went to Hell and Other Poems' (1901). 6 Speaking of one phase of her work, Mr. Douglas Hyde writes in 'A Treasury of Irish Poetry.'"She has turned herself with signal success to ballad-poetry, and in many of her pieces, especially in her second volume, she has sought inspiration from Irish motives and dealt with Irish superstition. Her very absence from Ireland has made her a phenomenon which we may often witness-more Irish than if she had never left it." CEAN DUV DEELISH. Cean duv deelish, beside the sea I stand and stretch my hands to thee Across the world. The riderless horses race to shore With thundering hoofs and shuddering, hoar, Cean duv deelish, I cry to thee Where hast thou hidden from the beat Cean duv deelish, 't is hard to pray And no reply; When the passionate challenge of sky is cast Goes by. God bless the woman, whoever she be, From the tossing waves will recover thee And lashing wind. Who will take thee out of the wind and storm, Dry thy wet face on her bosom warm I not to know! It is hard to pray, But I shall for this woman from day to day. "Comfort my dead, The sport of the winds and the play of the sea." I loved thee too well for this thing to be, O dear black head! THE WIND ON THE HILLS. Go not to the hills of Erin When the night winds are about; For the good-folk whirl within it, And lo! you have forgotten What you have known of tears, That the world goes full of years: A year there is a lifetime, And a second but a day; And an older world will meet you Your wife grows old with weeping, And it will chance some morning And your children will inherit They shall seek some face elusive, When the wind is loud, they sighing And all your children's children, THE ONE FORGOTTEN. A spirit speeding down on All Souls Eve 1 From the wide gates of that mysterious shore And, ""T is the souls that pass us on their way," Still the pale spirit, singing through the night, Into the room; then passing to the door Where crouched the whining dog, afraid to bark, And said the old man, crouching to the fire : "Draw close your chairs, for colder falls the night; And then his daughter's daughter with her hand Have that within their hearts to flame and sting." 1 There is a belief in some parts of Ireland that the dead are allowed to return to earth on November 2 (All Souls Night), and the peasantry leave food and fire for their comfort, and set a chair by the hearth for their resting before they themselves retire to bed.-Author. And then the spirit, moving from her place, But no one heeded her, or seemed to hear. And then from dreaming the long dreams of age I set no chair to welcome you, my dear." Hush! hear the banshee sobbing past the door." ALL SOULS NIGHT. O mother, mother, I swept the hearth, I set his chair and the white board spread, I prayed for his coming to our kind Lady when Death's sad doors would let out the dead; A strange wind rattled the window-pane, and down the lane a dog howled on; I called his name, and the candle flame burnt dim, pressed a hand the door-latch upon. Deelish! Deelish! my woe for ever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear. I called his name, and the pale Ghost came; but I was afraid to meet my dear. O mother, mother, in tears I checked the sad hours past of the year that 's o'er, Till by God's grace I might see his face and hear the sound of his voice once more; The chair I set from the cold and wet, he took when he came from unknown skies Of the land of the dead, on my bent brown head I felt the reproach of his saddened eyes; I closed my lids on my heart's desire, crouched by the fire, my voice was dumb: At my clean-swept hearth he had no mirth, and at my table he broke no crumb. |