to supply what flies off and is worn away, and much more so for the growth of animals. But animals have particular constitutions, and cannot be nourished by any sort of matter; some choice therefore must be made of it, to which they are to be urged by an importunity strong enough to excite their endeavours after it. Hence hunger and thirst come to affect the soul; affections that are sometimes indeed troublesome, but yet necessary, and which bring more pleasures than pain along with them. But why, say you, are we obliged to labour in quest of food? why are not the elements themselves sufficient? I answer, they are sufficient for some animals; but mankind required such a disposition of matter as was to be prepared by various actions and changes, and that daily, because it is soon liable to corruption, and if kept long would be unfit for nourishment. Hence labour becomes necessary to provide victuals in this present state of things; neither could hunger, or thirst, or labour (which are reckoned among natural evils) be prevented without greater inconveniences. The divine goodness, therefore, had the highest reason for affixing these to animals. Now as animals require different sorts of food, as was shown, according to their different constitutions, so God has placed every one of them where it may find what is proper for it; on which account there is scarce anything in the elements but what may be food for some. Every herb has its insect which it supports. The earth, the water, the very stones, serve for aliment to living creatures. for the food of a more noble animal, since it was on this condition only that it had life given, which it could not otherwise have enjoyed. Matter which is fit for the nourishment of man is also capable of life; if, therefore, God had denied it life, he had omitted a degree of good which might have been produced without any impediment to his principal design, which does not seem very agreeable to infinite goodness. It is better, therefore, that it should be endowed with life for a time, though it is to be devoured afterwards, than to continue totally stupid and inactive. The common objection then is of no force, viz., that inanimate matter might have been prepared for this use; for it is better that it should be animated, especially as such animals are ignorant of futurity, and are neither conscious nor solicitous about their being made for this purpose. So that as long as they live they enjoy themselves without anxiety, at least they rejoice in the present good, and are neither tormented with the remembrance of what is past nor the fear that is to come; and lastly, are killed with less pain than they would be by a distemper or old age. Let us not be surprised then at the universal war, as it were, among animals, or that the stronger devour the weaker; for these are made on purpose to afford aliment to the others. It is to be observed, in the last place, that animals are of such a nature as to delight in action, or the exercise of their faculties, nor But some stand in need of more delicate can we have any other notion of happiness food: now God could have created an inani- even in God himself. Since then the faculties mate machine, which might have supplied of both body and mind are to be exercised in them with such food; but one that is animated order to produce pleasure, where is the wonder does it much better and with more ease. A if God destined that exercise in part for probeing that has life is (cæteris paribus) pre- curing of food, and connected this pleasure ferable to one that has not; God therefore with it? The infinite power of God was able animated that machine which furnishes out to produce animals of such capacities; and provision for the more perfect animals; which since the creation of them was no inconvenience was both graciously and providently done; to other beings who might exercise themselves for by this means he gained so much life to in a more noble manner, may not the infinite the world as there is in those animals which goodness of God be conceived to have almost are food for others; by this means they them- compelled him not to refuse or envy those the selves enjoy some kind of life, and are of benefit of life? Some of this kind were to be service also to the rest. An ox, for instance, created, since there was room left for them in or a calf, is bred, nourished, and protected for the work of God after so many others were some time in order to become fit food for man. made as was convenient. But you may wish This certainly is better and more eligible than that some other place and condition had fallen if the matter of its body had been converted to your lot. Perhaps so. But if you had into an inanimate mass, such as a pompion, taken up another place, that other, or some or continued in the state of unformed clay. one else, must have been put into yours, who, Nor is it hardly dealt withal by being made | being alike ungrateful to the divine pro vidence, would wish for the place you have now occupied. Know, then, that it was necessary that you should either be what you are or not at all. For since every other place and state which the system or nature of things allowed was occupied by some others, you must of necessity either fill that which you are now in, or be banished out of nature. For do you expect that any other should be turned out of his order and you placed in his room? that is, that God should exhibit a peculiar and extraordinary munificence towards you to the prejudice of others. You ought therefore not to censure, but adore the divine goodness for making you what you are. You could neither have been made otherwise, nor in a better manner, but to the disadvantage of some others, or of the whole. WHY HAS GOD PLACED MAN IN REACH It is plain that in the present state of things it is impossible for man to live without natural evils, or the danger of erring. 'Tis a common question, Why does not God change this state and translate man to some other, where, all occasions of error and excitements to evil | being cut off, he might choose only good? i.e. in reality, why has he placed man upon the earth? Why did he not leave it to be inhabited by the brutes alone? There are some persons who expect such things as these from the divine goodness, but without any sense or reason; since it manifestly appears to be better that we should contend with the present evils than that the earth should be void of all rational inhabitants. Some make it a question why so great a part of the earth is given away to the brutes; but these men would have it all left to them, and mankind itself extinct. We have often declared that evils are chiefly to be avoided, nay, that they are prohibited by God, because they are prejudicial to human nature; but how much worse would it be to take that nature entirely away? They therefore who require this of the divine goodness, desire the greatest evil of all as a remedy for evils. The same persons also that with such earnestness desire a change of their condition are afraid of death, forgetting this change of their condition is what they dread the most of all in death. Mankind believes, indeed, from the light of nature, that God will translate good men into a better state; but it is necessary that they should be prepared here, as plants in a nursery, before they be removed into the garden where they are to bear fruit. God has therefore devised this life to be, as it were, the passage to a better. Thus this earth is replenished with inhabitants, who, being educated under discipline for a while, till they have finished their course, shall depart into another state suited to their deserts. They who find fault with this in God seem to me to do the same as if one who knows nothing of harvest or the nature of agriculture should laugh at the sower for throwing away his corn. For there is no doubt but the present state of things is as necessary, not only to the earth, lest it should be void of inhabitants, and to the animals, which for the most part depend upon the labours of men, but also to men themselves; and as requisite in the divine administration, in order to some better life, as seed-time is to harvest. JOHN O'NEACHTAN. FLOURISHED ABOUT 1695-1720. [John O'Neachtan, now chiefly known for | session at the time of writing his Irish Minthe two poems we quote below, was born probably in the latter half of the seventeenth century. He was a native as well as resident of Meath, " a learned man and an ingenious poet," as Hardiman says, "and enriched his native language with many original compositions and translations." Hardiman further states that several of these were in his pos strelsy, the most important of them being "A copious treatise in Irish on general geography extending to nearly five hundred closely written pages, and containing many interesting particulars." He also possessed O'Neachtan's "Curious Annals of Ireland from A.D. 1167 to the Beginning of the Last (Seventeenth) Century." When O'Neachtan died, or what the incidents of his life may have been beyond those of an ordinary bard, we are unable to discover. In his days the death of a bard or a writer in Irish was a thing not worth notice, or if noticed to be only a subject of gratulation as ridding the world of one more pest. As a poet and miscellaneous writer Hardiman asserts that "O'Neachtan holds the same rank in Irish literature that Dr. Young, author of Night Thoughts, occupies in English. With equal genius and learning the Irish bard's compositions are more equal and correct, and his style less diffuse, than those of the favoured English author."] MAGGY LAIDIR.1 Here's first the toast, the pride and boast, Let old and young, with ready tongue Whose smiles with joy have crown'd us, Come, friends, don't fail to toast O'Neill, The madder fill with right good will, And as he steers thro' life's long years, of composition, 'Maggy Laidir' is superior to 'O'Rorke's Feast,' so humorously translated by Dean Swift. Here the chairman only speaks throughout. His first toast is Old Ireland under the name of 'Maggy Laidir,'-then the beauteous daughters of Erin - the ancient families of the four provinces Leinster, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught the clergy, who have been always dear to the Irish-and finally, he wishes disappointment to the foes and success to the friends of the country. After these libations he becomes a little gay, and must have music. Come mark the call, and drink to all Long as of old may Connaught hold A curse for those who dare oppose May lasting joys attend the boys Come raise the voice! rejoice, rejoice, Where's Thady Oge? up, Dan, you rogue, Now frisk it round-aye, there's the sound Our sires were fond of hearing; The harp rings clear-hear, gossip, hear! O sure such notes are cheering! Your health, my friend! till life shall end May no bad chance betide us; He calls on the harpers to strike up. Finally a quarrel, more Thracian, ensues, which our elevated chairman, in the true Irish style of commanding peace, orders to be quelled by knocking down the combatants; and he concludes by alluding to his noble ancestry and kindred to enforce his claim to respect and obedience. "The air as well as the words of 'Maggy Laidir,' though long naturalized in North Britain, is Irish. The name signifies in the original strong or powerful Maggy, and by it was meant Ireland, also designated by our bards under the names of Granua Weale, Roisin Dubh, Sheelas na Guira, &c. By an easy change the adjective laidir, strong, was converted into Lauder, the patronymic of a Scotch family, and the air was employed to celebrate a famous courtezan of Crail." Oh may we still, our grief to kill, Put out the clown or knock him down— Tie up his tongue-am I not sprung O'Brien the strong, Maguire, whose song A LAMENT.1 Dark source of my anguish! deep wound of a land Whose young and defenceless the loss will deplore; The munificent spirit, the liberal hand, Still stretched the full bounty it prompted to pour. The stone is laid o'er thee! the fair glossy braid, The high brow, the light cheek with its roseate glow; The bright form, and the berry that dwelt and could fade On these lips, thou sage giver, all, all are laid low. The virgin, the saint-though heav'n's radiance illume Their brows-Erin's wrongs can o'ershadow them yet. And rank be the poison, the plagues that distil Through the heart of the spoiler that laid them in dust, The rapt bard with their glory the nations shall fill, With the fame of his patrons, the generous, the just. Wherever the beam of the morning is shed, With its light the full fame of our lov'd ones hath shone, The deep curse of our sorrow shall burst on his head That hath hurl'd them, the pride of our hearts, from their throne. The mid-day is dark with unnatural gloom- Bids the old and the young bend in agony there! Faint the lowing of kine o'er the sear'd yellow lawn! And tuneless the warbler that droops on the spray! The bright tenants that flashed through the current are gone, For the princess we honoured is laid in the clay. Darkly brooding alone o'er his bondage and shame, Like a swan on the billows, she moved in her By the shore in mute agony wanders the Gael, grace, Snow-white were her limbs, and with beauty replete, And time on that pure brow had left no more trace Than if he had sped with her own fairy feet. Whatever of purity, glory, hath ever Been linked with the name, lovely Mary, was thine; And sad is my spirit, and clouded my dream, What woe beyond this hath dark fortune to wreak? What wrath o'er the land yet remains to be hurl'd? They turn them to Rome! but despairing they shriek, For Spain's flag in defeat and defection is furled. Woe, woe, that the tomb, ruthless tyrant, should Though our sorrows avail not, our hope is not SIR RICHARD STEELE. BORN 1672-DIED 1729. him at once popular with the town. In 1703 it was followed by The Tender Husband, which was dedicated to Addison, and to which Addison wrote a prologue. This comedy is gay in manner and full of pure wit, yet it preaches an effective moral, and has many a hit at the fashionable vices of the day. In 1704 he produced the Lying Lovers, an adap [Richard Steele was born in Dublin on the | condemnation of the things condemned in his 12th March, 1672, a few weeks before the book. This comedy, first acted in 1702, made birth of his life-long friend Joseph Addison. | His father was an attorney, his mother, as he himself “ says, a very beautiful woman, of a noble spirit." While he was in his fifth year his father died; but notwithstanding this there was little change in his condition until his thirteenth year, when, through the influence of the Duke of Ormond, he became a foundationer at the Charterhouse in London. Theretation from the French. The play was not a in 1686 he met with Addison, and from there he went to Oxford in 1690. Addison had already gone to Oxford, and on Steele joining him the friendship was renewed. While at Oxford, Steele, as a matter of course, began to write verses, and in 1695 he made public his first poem, The Procession, which had for its subject the funeral of Queen Mary. His best work at this time, however, was in helping Addison to "break loose from the critical cobwebs of an age of periwigs and patches," and in helping to lay the first foundation of that reputation, which, with the generosity of his nature, he builded so high that it is only now his own is beginning to properly appear out of the shadow. Presently, leaving Addison to his slow-going longings to "launch into a bolder strain," Steele allowed his patriotism to carry him away, and he enlisted as a private in the Coldstream Guards. | For this, as he says himself, "he lost the succession to a very good estate in the county of Wexford, from the same humour which he has preserved ever since, of preferring the state of his mind to that of his fortune." The colonel of the regiment, Lord Cutts, soon made Steele his secretary, and got him a commission as ensign. While an ensign he wrote his Christian Hero, chiefly to confirm himself in resisting the temptations of his position; but as it rather failed to do this he made it public, in the hope that then it would have a greater effect on him. The book was at once a success, but in the eyes of his brother officers he had changed from being a good companion into a disagreeable fellow. To remedy this, and also to show that his style was not in reality a didactic one, he soon after produced a bright little comedy, The Funeral; or, Grief à la Mode, in which, however, he adhered to the success, art being sacrificed in it to morality. Its failure placed Steele in the position "of being the only English dramatist who had had a piece damned for its piety." Foote afterwards re-adapted it as The Liar, in which form it still keeps the stage. From 1704 to 1707 Steele wrote little, except possibly as a collaborateur. In May of the latter year he was appointed to the office of gazetteer, the work of which he performed with care and faithfulness. In the same year he married his second wife, he having already been married to a lady belonging to Barbadoes, who died a few months after her marriage. From Addison he borrowed a thousand pounds to "set up house," and the thousand was repaid within a year. On the 12th of April, 1709, he published the first number of his Tatler, "for the use of the good people of England,” but in which he candidly declared that he was "an author writing for the public, who expected from the public payment for his work, and that he preferred this to gambling for the patronage of men in office." The first eighty numbers of the publication he produced entirely out of his own resources, but the mental strain must have been great, and no doubt he welcomed the return of Addison from Ireland, as it gave him an opportunity of inducing his friend to join him in the work. On the 2d of January, 1711, the Tatler was discontinued, after a career of great usefulness and influence, and on the 1st of the following March appeared the first number of the Spectator, that living monument to the friendship of two honest men. The Spectator was even a greater success than the Tatler, and on the articles contributed to it to please his friend now chiefly rests Addison's fame-a fame which Steele took every opportunity of enlarg |