216 Ir doubtless is a noble thing To serve the country and the king. To serve the country and the king. They left their own-their native land, Direct the trembling pris'ner there Who tend the shop, the school, the farm, And yet, their histories plainly tell Poetic Manual. HERE is a picture of an Irish car. You have no such cars as this in England, I think. The driver you see sits on an elevated seat in front, with a whip in one hand, and the reins of the horse in the other. In the middle of the car is a hole for luggage, about eighteen inches wide, called a "well." The passengers, you see, sit back to back, and the "well" for their luggage is between them. The horse trots along in fine style, and the driver, with all the passengers, look happy. Ireland is a beautiful country. Our lakes and mountains are very interesting to English visitors, and though many of the people are ignorant and very poor, yet they are always humorous and kind, especially to those who are kind to them. But travellers on an Irish car must be careful. Sometimes the horses are bad, and the cars rickety; but the drivers are merry, and the passengers talkative. I was travelling on an Irish car once, across some very wild mountains, and, as we were jogging along, the horse fell down, the car broke, and we did not reach home till nearly midnight. But there was so much good humour in the company, that cheerfulness prevailed till we reached the end of our journey. A friend of mine was over here to visit us from England some time ago, and he was so seriously injured by the breaking down of the car on which he rode, that he nearly lost his life. But roads and cars are improving in Ireland. We also have railways now, so that by and bye the people in Ireland will travel nearly as fast and as safe as the people in England. We should be thankful for every mercy, and especially for travelling mercies. It is a great blessing to be preserved during a long journey, and restored to our families in safety. Only a few days ago I was riding on an Irish car with many passengers, and I soon found that most of them were on their way to America. We took up one young man on the road. As he gave the last shake of his hand to his friends they were much affected, and no wonder, for they loved each other, and their parting perhaps was for ever. He then stepped up on the car with great glee, the driver smacked his whip, and the horse went swiftly on; but the young man stood up, and every now and then looked back towards his home, as if he felt deeply at leaving his friends behind him. They were all fine young men, and one of them said, "I have thirty full cousins in America." Ireland is like a bee-hive, and year after year thousands of her sons and daughters leave their homes to go and dwell in distant lands. On this occasion a poor man and his wife sat quietly at my right hand. The poor woman looked cold, and I lent her a large cloak to keep her warm, for which she "thanked his honour," her husband at the same time, with a smile of satisfaction, putting it about her to the best advantage. Some things were said about the goodness of America and the badness of Ireland, to which I listened with attention, wishing there were more real "goodness" and less "badness" in each of these countries. "Come-up," said the driver to the horse, smacking his whip, and we were rapidly taken round the corner of a street before the door of an hotel, at which the horse knew to stop, and we had to change cars. But we were soon mounted again, and after six hours drive we had travelled twenty-five miles, which brought us to the end of our journey. What a long way a person might have travelled by steam during this time, but here, in some places, the roads are very bad, and the horses are poor. Let my little reader remember that life is but a journey, and accident or no accident, we shall soon reach its end. Let us all look to Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life. The path to heaven is narrow and safe, and if you walk therein, God "will not suffer thy foot to be moved." Ireland. ALXANDER THE GREAT. THE CHILD'S INQUIRY. Child.-"How big was Alexander, Was he so large, that he could stand J. B. And, while his feet were on the ground Father. "Oh no, my child, about as large 'Tis not the stature makes men great, C.-"His name so great? I know 'tis long, And more than half a year ago, I knew it very well." F.-"I mean, my child, his actions were So great he got a name, That every body speaks with praise, C.-"Well, what great actions did he do? F. "Why he it was that conquered Tyre And thousands of her people slew; A hundred conquered cities shone C.-"Did killing people make him great? I never heard them call him great." C.-"Well, then, if I should kill a man, I should be great and not be hung, F.-"Not so, my child, 'twill never do; C. "Then they that kill, and they that praise, F.-"You know, my child, the Bible says, C.-"But did great Alexander wish That some strong man should come |