from an ancient manuscript known as "Codex Z," Dublin, 1801.

One story, from a hundred, may illustrate the strange ways of this peculiar and uncouth being:He was passing through the College court early in the morning, when a giddy young student, standing in a doorway, shouted, "Sweep, sweep!" The Doctor noted him, and had him summoned before the Board. "I will chastise him," said he, “for scandalum magnatum; for sure amn't I the Vice-Provost ?"

The youngster, however, pleaded that he did not mean the Doctor.

"How can that be," said Barrett, "when there was no other sweep in the court but myself?"

He left most of his great wealth to charitable institutions, but many of his own family being in a state of penury, by a liberal and equitable construction of the will they were considered by the law as the fittest objects, and thus became recipients of a large portion of his property.

CHAPTER II.

AFTER John Wesley's first visit to this country he testified of the Irish, that they were "an immeasurably loving people ;" and about one hundred and fifty years before, Doctor John Owen, the great Puritan Divine, then sojourning in Trinity College Dublin, records that he was in the habit of "preaching to as numerous a multitude of as thirsting a people after the Gospel as he had ever conversed with."

This spirit of natural devotion in religion still exists even among the most ignorant of the Romish peasantry; but the Book which would gratify while it regulated their feelings, is withheld from their affections, and "the Church" put in its place by their clergy, by which adroit substitution their superstition is nourished, while true religion runs to weeds.

In the sixteenth century, at Venice, Fulgentio, an enlightened monk, afterwards martyred at the stake, preached from the text, "What is Truth?" Here is Truth," he said, holding forth a Bible; but, added he, putting the volume into the folds of his cassock, "the book is prohibited."

And as then, so now, the Book is prohibited to the Roman Catholic laity. But by God's goodness, the great body of Protestants in Ireland honour their Bible and the tidings it brings, and this spirit of devotion is doubtless enhanced by their extreme enjoyment of social religious gatherings. Therefore John Wesley's itinerating preachers, riding day by day among the hills, from farmhouse to farmhouse, breakfasting with one family, dining with a second, and supping and sleeping at the house of a third, and praying and preaching and singing of hymns with all-among congregations which flocked from each neighbourhood-was an organization as wisely planned as it was successfully performed.

The people loved these gatherings, and flowed from their homesteads in a stream to meet their friends and hear the preachers, who, if not educated men, were often eloquent, and always earnest.

When living in Donegal we frequently had these men to breakfast, my good old rector giving them sage and sweet advice in his study, while I, occupying a lower department, took care that the steed which was to bear the preacher many a mile should have a Benjamin's portion of good corn to speed him on his travels.

This love of social gatherings, in the cause of religion, seems to have spread among the more educated classes in the beginning of this century, and to have produced or accompanied the dawning

of Evangelical life in Ireland. In Dublin, while coldness, mistiness, or formality was found in many of the churches, weekly meetings for prayer or reading the Scriptures began to be held among the laity. The La Touche family, high in position and wealth, and ever foremost in good, now stood out in the cause of religion. Some of the learned fellows of Trinity College were pious and useful men, among whom were Dr. Henry Maturin, a cousin and namesake of the author's; Doctor John Ussher, afterwards Archdeacon of Raphoe; and Doctor Joseph Stopford, who had the largest class of pupils in college. Peter Roe, of Kilkenny, one of Ireland's best clergymen, told me many years afterwards, that he first learned the Gospel in Stopford's rooms, who "never lost sight of him," but had him ordained afterwards by introducing him to his kinsman, Dr. Thomas Stopford, Bishop of Cork.

Alderman Hutton, a rich citizen, opened his house in Leeson Street for meetings; and Mrs. Johnson, of Stephen's Green, a very accomplished old lady, had frequent evening assemblies of a decidedly grave character, where the Rev. James Dunne, chaplain of the Magdalene Asylum, and the Rev. Thomas Kelly, son of the Chief Baron of that name, and the author of so many beautiful hymns, presided, and led the conversation to good and high things.

The cause of God at this time was strangely benefited by an element of hostility. Persecution arose from some of the Church rulers, and opposition, as it always does, but fanned the gracious flame. Mr. Mathias, who occupied Bethesda Chapel (an unlicensed place of worship), the eloquent Chrysostom of Dublin, was inhibited by his Archbishop, Dr. Fowler, from preaching in any of the parish churches; and the Rev. Thomas Kelly, too independent in mind and in means, to obey where he could not respect, and too sensitive to endure continued thwartings, forsook the ministry of our Church for ever.

In the midst of these clouds there was much to cheer and encourage, and men began to arise who afterwards shone like stars in the Irish Church. Then stood forth Robert Daly, an honest and stout soldier in the defence of the Bible Society, against which many of the Bishops were arrayed. Edward Wingfield was with him, a fellow-minister, a Viscount's brother in the peerage of earth, but a King's son in the nobility of heaven; a man of a heavenly spirit, who died too soon for the good he wrought. Then stood up Horace Newman, Dean of Cork; and William Bushe, with the sweet voice and taking eloquence of his family, was soon about to draw crowds to hear the Gospel in the newly erected church of St. George's. Then there were active and godly laymen-Benjamin Digby, and

C