words were few, but they acted like inspiration on the Magyar deputies. He said, amidst profound silence:"I enter the tribune to appeal to you for saving your father-in the great family of nations; allow me, even in before the memory of my suffering people; allow me to bear witness before you, that the people of Magyars can take, with noble self-esteem, a place proud to be a Magyar. While, during our holy view of your greatness, to proclaim that I feel struggle, we were secluded from the world, our enemies, wanting to cover their crimes by lies, told you the tale that we are in Hungary but an insig land. I feel the awful importance of the moment; I feel as if God had placed the trumpet in my hand, to rouse the nation from her dream, and to awaken her to a new and eternal life if she yet possess vital sub-nificant party, and this party fanaticized by myself. stance, or to condemn her to everlasting death if she is cowardly." The Assembly did not even await the conclusion, but rose to a man, and unanimously adopted the motion by the exclamation "Megadjuk!" (granted!) Kossuth answered:-"That it was which I would beg of you, deputies of my country! but you anticipated me, and I deeply bow to the greatness of this nation." * Well, I feel proud at my country's strength. They stirred up by foul delusions to the fury of civil war our Croat, Wallach, Serb, and Slovach brethren against us. It did not suffice. The house of Austria poured all his forces upon us; still it would not do. We beat them down! The proud dynasty had to stoop at the foot of the Czar. He thrust his legions upon us. * Afterwards, the scorned party turned out to be a nation, and a valiant one; but still they said it is I who inPowerful and dramatic as this must be inspiring such a nation, and to such a degree. spired it. Perhaps there might be some glory in confessed to be, it is surpassed by some other But I cannot accept the praise. No; it is not I passages in the orator's Birmingham address. who inspired the Hungarian people,-it was the What, for instance, in the literature of elo-Hungarian people who inspired me. Whatever quence, is finer than the allusion to his own representative character? "You remember [he said] Paulus Emilius, whose triumph by a whim of fate was placed between the tombs of his two sons. You remember his quite Roman words- Cladem domûs mea vestra felicitas consolatur.' Were there anything in the world able to console a Magyar for the misfortunes of his fatherland, here is the place where I would repeat the words of yonder Roman son! But, alas! even here where I am, and so surrounded as I am, still I feel myself a homeless exile,—and all that I see carries back my memory to my down-trodden land. Sorrow takes deeper root in human breasts than joys; one must be an exile, and the home of the poor exile must be suffering as mine is, that the heart of man can feel the boundless intensity of the love of home. Strange it may appear to you, the roots of my life are not within myself, my individuality is absorbed in this thought, 'Freedom and Fatherland! What is the key of that boundless faith and trust my people bear to me, their plain unpretending brother, a faith and confidence seldom to be met in like manner in his way? What is the key of it, that this faith, this confidence, stands still fast, neither troubled by the deluge of calumnies, nor broken by adversities? It is that my people took, and take me still, for the incarnated personification of their wishes, their sentiments, their affections, and their hopes. Is it not then quite natural that the woes of my people also should be embodied in myself? I have the concentrated woes of millions of Magyars in my breast. And allow me, gentlemen, a sort of national self-esteem in that respect. * * To me, a Hungarian, that sort of sentiment may not be becoming which befits a British man, who, whatever be his personal merits, puts-and with right-his greatest pride in the idea to be a citizen of Great Britain; still, allow me to prostrate myself in spirit I thought, and still think,-whatever I felt, and still feel, it is but a feeble pulsation of that heart which in the breast of my people beats. history-theirs are the laurels of immortality. And The glory of battles is ascribed to the leaders, in yet on meeting the danger, they knew that, alive or dead, their names will upon the lips of the people for ever live. How different, how purer, is the light spread on the image of thousands of the people's will lie unknown, their names unhonored and unsons, who, knowing that where they fall they sung, but who, nevertheless, animated by the love of freedom and fatherland, went on calmly, singing national anthems, against the batteries whose cross-fire vomited death and destruction on them, and took them without firing a shot--they who fell, falling with the shout, 'Hurrah for Hungary!' And so they died by thousands, the unnamed demigods." Not less lofty in tone and poetical in thought is the following paragraph: "Still they say it is I who have inspired them. No; a thousand times, no! It is they who have inspired me. The moment of death, gentlemen, is a dreary one. Even the features of Cato partook of the impression of this dreariness. A shadow passed over the brow of Socrates on drinking the hemlock cup. With us, those who beheld the nameless victims of the love of country, lying on the death field beneath Buda's walls, met but the expression of a smile on the frozen lips of the dead, and the dying answered those who would console, but by the words, Never mind; Buda is ours. Hurrah for the fatherland!' So they spoke and died. He who witnessed such scenes, not as an exception, but as a constant rule, he who saw the adolescent weep when told he was yet too young to die for his land; he who saw the sacrifices of spontaneity; he who heard what a fury spread over the people on hearing of 6 the catastrophe; he who marked his behavior towards the victors, after all was lost; he who knows what sort of curse is mixed in the prayers of the Magyar, and knows what sort of sentiment is burning alike in the breast of the old and of the young, of the strong man and of the tender wife-and ever will be burning on, till the hour of national resurrection strikes; he who is aware of all this will surely bow before this people with respect, and will acknowledge, with me, that such a people wants not to be inspired, but that it is an everlasting source of inspiration itself. This is the people of Hungary!" speeches whose titles are placed at the head of this article we need not say much,-since we cannot say anything in their favor. Got up in haste to meet a sudden demand, they are almost of necessity extremely imperfect. Some of the earlier speeches are best reported by Mr. Gilpin; but the last and greatest, the address at Birmingham, is very badly given in his copy. Messrs. Bradbury & Evans render an excellent report of the Birmingham speech,-and it is from their edition that we have taken our illustrative extracts; but their other reports are often Of the two collections of M. Kossuth's meagre and unsatisfactory. From Bentley's Miscellany. A VISIT TO THE GREAT SKELLIG ROCK. By dint of sharp walking we arrived at Cahirciveen, just as the night came on. About a couple of miles from this town we saw the huge mansion of Mr. Charles O'Connell, built in the middle of a wild black bog, without a single tree or shrub to distract the eye from the monotony around. Truly a man might as well plant himself down in the marshes of Australia as here; yet if his object be to shun mankind, he will probably succeed to his heart's content. Not very far from this, at the bottom of a small creek, are the ruins of what was probably a considerable farm-house, where the celebrated Daniel O'Connell-or, as they style him in this part of the country, Liberathur-was born. The ruined tenement is called "Old Carnes," and stands on ground now belonging to the individual born there. The immediate vicinity is rather pretty, and a hill planted with fir and larch overhanging the creek is a picturesque feature. Here it was that Mr. O'Connell's father-whose real name was Connell, the O' having been assumed by his sonlived, and made some little money by retailing all kinds of goods. It was his brother, however, well known in Kerry as "Hunting Cap Connell," who patronized the gossoon, and to him may Ireland consider herself indebted for the benefits or evils-we are no politicians-conferred on her by the Liber | athur. When yet a boy, this same Hunting Cap transferred him from Old Carnes to Derrynane, and after forwarding his education in France, and the Dublin University, died, leaving the abbey to his nephew. Had we space, we might be disposed to introduce some curious anecdotes relative to the Hunting Cap, for he was extremely singular in his habits. Indeed he was always looked upon with a species of awe, approaching to veneration, by all the peasantry; and it is more than probable that those wedges of gold, which were ever and anon cast up on the beach-by a blessed Providence, as he said—not a little tended to impress the neighbors with this feeling. It was quite dark when we entered Cahirciveen, and had it not been for our wish to sleep in Valentia, and thus achieve the triumph of carrying into effect the plan of the morning, we should have remained in this town. The ferry was distant two miles, and when we arrived at the shore we found all the boatmen absent, and the boats hauled up. This was provoking, but with the lights of Valentia in view, the distance across being but little more than a quarter of a mile, it would have betrayed a sad want of spirit not to persevere. The boats were not very heavy-there was one close to the water, and after some searching we found a couple of oars. We also succeeded in rousing a lad, who said he was one of the boatmen's sons; and pressing him into our service, we managed to launch the boat. Pulling briskly, we were under the island in a few minutes. Having landed, we bent our steps to a solitary light burning in the hotel, and those who have gone through such a day of adventure and fatigue as I have attempted to describe, will best be able to appreciate our feelings when, at past midnight, we found ourselves ensconced in a comfortable parlor, with the happy prospect of a good supper and a clean bed. The following morning was most lovely, and it was difficult to believe that the previous day had witnessed such a storm. We went, after breakfast, to visit the slate quarries, for which the island is celebrated, and as they are of an interesting nature, I shall briefly describe them. They lie on the northern side of the island, about two miles from the town of the same name, and at an elevation of about eight hundred feet above the sea, though not immediately over it. The workings are pretty extensive, and penetrate to a considerable depth, The slate-stone is detached in large slabs, some measuring upwards of twenty feet in length, and six in breadth. A steam engine is employed to drive machinery, constructed for planing and sawing the stone, after which it passes through various hands, according to the purposes it is intended for. extensive, and the eye wanders for miles along the picturesque outlines of the Kerry mountains, until they become lost in the distance. One of the most remarkable objects in the panorama is the Great Skellig, which is situated about eight miles south of Valentia, and twelve from the main land. This is a stupendous mass of rock, rising majestically from the sea to the height of one hundred and eighty feet, and being divided into two pyramidal summits, the highest of which towers to an elevation of fifteen hundred feet above high-water mark, and terminates in a mere point. As I shall have occasion to speak more at length concerning this, I refrain from doing more than mentioning it now, as one of the most striking features of the view from the highlands of Valentia. I could not avoid paying considerable attention to the harbor, which lay as a map beneath me, and concerning which so much has been said and written with reference to its being made a steam-packet station. Setting aside its own immediate advantages, which appear to me to have been much exaggerated, the great difficulty of communication with the mainland seems an insurmountable objection; and, as for constructing a railway direct to Dublin, the bare idea is absurd. Not all the shipping that could ride in the harbor, supposing the latter to be constantly full, would pay for so prodigious an outlay; and, I apprehend, it is equally certain that the internal trade of Ireland could never make up the deficiency. In fine, the idea of ever establishing an American steam-packet station at Valentia seems so chimerical, that I conceive it could only have originated with some one highly interested in the accomplishment of such a scheme. 2 cwt. 2 qrs. 22 lbs. The Shannon has always appeared to me a far more appropriate site, and the circumstance of having a water conveyance to Dublin not a little in its favor. Ships of the largest tonnage can ascend to within twenty miles of Limerick; thus bringing the station ninety miles nearer the metropolis. Its main qualities are strength, durability, and non-absorbent properties; and, as regards the first, experiments made by command of the Board of Ordnance showed that to break slabs of equal dimensions required a weight of— 11 1 25 And on trial by the hydro-mechanical press, it was found to bear a greater pressure than any of the granites. I believe this stone has been used successfully in many of the public buildings in London. The quarries are the property of the Knight of Kerry, and are worked by him; they are capable of great extension-in fact, the supply may be deemed almost exhaustless-but a want of capital necessarily fetters the owner's enterprise. Were they on English ground, how different would be the scene!-instead of a couple of hundred, the number of men employed then would be a thousand at least. The view from the summit of the island is We had determined, before leaving Valentia, on visiting, if possible, the far-famed Skellig rock, to which I have alluded, but as this can only be attempted during the calmest and most settled weather, we were obliged to wait until the sea became somewhat more tranquil. The difficulty and danger attendant on a pilgrimage to the summit of this extraordinary rock, coupled with the romance attached to it, heightened its interest in my eyes. With considerable pleasure, therefore, I watched the setting sun illuminating the west with all the majesty of his golden grandeur, and giving every promise of "A goodly day to-morrow." Nor did he prove a faithless harbinger, as the following morning was so favorable as to warrant us in making the attempt; and we accordingly engaged a strong boat, with six able-bodied sailors, to row us to the rock. We left the harbor at nine, and soon after clearing the channel dividing the island from the mainland, saw the object of our enterprise looming to the south like some gigantic obelisk. The Great Skellig does not, however, stand quite alone. Two other rocks, known by the names of the Lemon and Little, or Middle Skellig, are in the vicinity. The first of these is circular, having an elevation considerably above high-water mark, and abbunding with various kinds of sea-fowl; and about three miles to the south is the Little Skellig, consisting of a reddish kind of slate, rising abruptly from the sea, and frequented by vast numbers of gannets, or solan geese, and a great variety of other birds, all of which are eagerly sought by the peasantry for their feathers, as also, in seasons of scarcity, for food. About a league farther from the mainland lies the Great Skellig, which we were now fast approaching, after a pretty severe pull of some three hours. Calm as the day was, yet the roll of the waves, as they came sweeping in from the Atlantic, rendered it most difficult to effect a landing, and as the boat rose and fell on the giant swell, her sides occasionally grating against the jagged rocks, I certainly expected every moment to see her impaled on them. I ought to mention that there are but two spots on the rock where a landing is at all practicable, even in the calmest weather, and, notwithstanding every precaution, it has frequently happened that the attempt has been attended by loss of life. We find it recorded in the Irish histories that one of Milesius's sons was lost in endeavoring to land for the purpose of visiting the monastery, and was, according to the same authorities, buried on the island. Our sailors happened, fortunately, to be powerful fellows, and being well accustomed to the management of a boat in these rough seas, assured us, if we would only remain perfectly tranquil, they would speedily land us in safety. Three of the strongest, watching their opportunity, leaped on the rock, and securing the end of a stout rope to an iron ring, contrived by dint of perseverance and strength to steady the boat so as to permit us to land. I can hardly express the feelings of awe that overcame me as I gazed upwards at the immense mass of rock which towered above in so threatening a manner, as to give one great reason to doubt its stability. I stood riveted to the spot, spellbound, as it were, and was only roused to activity by my friend, who exclaimed as he pointed upwards "There is our destination." The object to which my attention was thus drawn, appeared, as seen from below, like a small jutting crag, whose dimensions seemed hardly capable of bearing the most diminutive sea-bird, much less the foot of man; and, involuntarily shuddering at the bare contemplation of standing on so giddy a height, I demanded if he really proposed guiding me to such a break-neck place. "You can hardly say you have visited the Great Skellig unless you have kissed the cross on its summit," was his reply. "And although but few have the head to do so, yet almost all make the trial." "Allons donc !" I responded; and bracing my nerves to the task, we commenced the ascent. A rude path led from the rock on which we landed, to a small sloping plain of about a couple of acres in dimension, which forms the middle region of the island, and is bounded on all sides by precipices; from this plain, which is about one hundred and fifty feet from the base, the rock divides into two peaks, the tallest of which has an elevation of about one thousand five hundred feet. To surmount this was the object of our enter prise. Before, however, addressing ourselves to so formidable an undertaking, we proceeded to view the remains of two small wells, which, together with a chapel, are dedicated to St. Michael. In fact, we stood. on holy ground; this circumscribed spot having been in the earlier ages of Christianity selected as a place of religious seclusion. In support of this tradition the remains of the abbey of St. Tinian, and the cells of the monks who lived here in most austere solitude, are still to be seen. The chapels, or cells, are built of stone, dovetailed without mortar, similar to those at the Seven Churches in the county of Wicklow, and possess conical roofs of the same material. It was when the abbey flourished that the cross to which we have alluded was erected, with a view, in all probability, of increasing the church funds, as it was declared that the circumstance of kissing it absolved the individual from a heavy load of sin; but no one was permitted to attempt the adventure without first paying a sum of money. The scheme, if we may so call it, answered marvellously well, and for many years thousands of both sexes visited the Great Skellig, when the weather permitted, for the sole purpose of kissing the cross, though frequently at the imminent hazard of their life. Indeed, so great a virtue was attached to the performance of this penance, and such was the extraordinary infatuation in the minds of the lower classes of Roman Catholics, that even of late years individuals have been known to travel barefooted long distances to the coast, where they had frequently to wait many days, during which time they subsisted entirely on wild berries and sea-weed, (for during the performance of any penance, fasting is strictly enjoined,) until the weather was sufficiently moderate to permit them to cross to the rock. In fact, it was only after the fatal termination of this religious fanaticism in the case of an unfortunate youth, whose tragical and romantic death we shall probably detail to our readers, that the appalling penance of embracing the cross on the Great Skellig was put an end to by the clergy, who had no wish to carry the zeal for their religion so far as to run the risk of annually immolating some members of their flocks. lurking devil in his eye, and a roguish smile playing around his handsome mouth, that would have won the heart of many a sighing maiden, and so impressed was I in his favor, that I at once engaged him; and now beg to introduce Tim Healey, at the reader's very humble service, should he ever find himself at the base of the Great Skellig, and meditate an ascent to the cross; unless, indeed, the said Tim, from his foolish and rash daring, meets with a premature end, which is by no means improbable. Well," said I, as we closed an argument with a draught of potheen, imbibed in the most primitive manner from a wicker-cased flask; "so you really know the shortest and safest way to the summit ?" "Know it, yer honor! I think I ought to know it, when I've been going up ever since I was a bit of a gossoon.' 66 And is the ascent very difficult ?" "A thrifling degree, yer honor; though, indeed, I may say it's difficult enough to those who've no breath, or what's worse, no head." "No head, Tim! Why, I think it would puzzle a man without a head to make his way to the top." "Oh! yer honor knows what I mean well enough. Why, sir, some fine gentlemen come here and talk as big of going to the very top, but bless yer honor, the light-house was enough for them, for when they crept to the edge and peeped over, they alter'd their As we were viewing the scattered remains mind all of a sudden, and said they had no of the monastery, a peasant accosted us, and time to go higher, or they were too tired, or demanding if we contemplated ascending to it was too could, or too hot; but atween ourthe crass, as he called it, proffered his ser-selves, yer honor, it's afear'd I think they vices as a guide. He was a true Kerryman, inquisitive and intelligent, and had, moreover, a touch of classical lore, which might have shamed some of his superiors in worldly sta tion. It may be remarked here, how prevalent a knowledge of Latin is amongst the lower classes in Kerry. Few, who have been at the Lakes of Killarney, will fail to remember the frequent outbreak of occasional scraps of Latin amongst the peasantry, and especially those acting as boatmen. I saw at a glance that the specimen of "the finest pisantry in the world," now before us, was none of your prattling, parrotlike cicerones, who describe the same thing, in the same words and tone, day after day, until it becomes so habitual, that were they checked, or put out, they would in all probability have to commence again at the beginning. No, our friend never could claim any relationship with the latter; there was a were.' By this time we had ascended some two hundred feet, and stood on the ledge-like terrace, on which the light-house alluded to is erected. It is a strong and compact building, and appears incorporated with the rock, into which, indeed, it is dovetailed. The lantern displays a fixed bright light. The house is tenanted by a family consisting of seven individuals, who reside here throughout the year: their stock of provisions is always calculated to endure six months; a precaution rendered highly necessary, when it is remembered they are sometimes cut off from all communication with the main land for months together, and during the winter it is rarely that a landing can be effected. Few situations can be conceived more dreary than that of these poor light keepers, and when we add to the above the additional misery of a lamentable deficiency of wholesome water, it may well be believed that they |