domestic relations. Unlike the people of
other nations, his grief is loud but lasting, vehement but deep; and
whilst its shadow has been chequered by the laughter and mirth of a
cheerful disposition, still in the moments of seclusion, at his bedside
prayer, or over the grave of those he loved, it will put itself forth
after half a life with a vivid power of recollection which is sometimes
almost beyond belief.

The Irish, however, are naturally a refined people; but by this I mean
the refinement which appreciates and cherishes whatever there is in
nature, as manifested through the influence of the softer arts of music
and poetry. The effect of music upon the Irish heart I ought to know
well, and no man need tell me that a barbarous or cruel people ever
possessed national music that was beautiful and pathetic. The music of
any nation is the manifestation of its general feeling, and not that
which creates it; although there is no doubt but the one when formed
perpetuates and reproduces the other. It is no wonder, then, that the
domestic feelings of the Irish should be so singularly affectionate
and strong, when we consider that they have been, in spite of every
obstruction, kept under the softening influence of music and poetry.
This music and poetry, too, essentially their own--and whether streaming
of a summer through their still glens, or poured forth at the winter
hearth, still, by its soft and melancholy spirit, stirring up a thousand
tender associations that must necessarily touch and improve the heart.
And it is for this reason that, that heart becomes so remarkably
eloquent, if not poetical, when moved by sorrow. Many a time I have seen
a Keener commence her wail over the corpse of a near relative, and by
degrees she has risen from the simple wail or cry to a high but mournful
recitative, extemporized, under the excitement of the moment, into
sentiments that were highly figurative and impressive. In this she
was aided very much by the genius of the language, which possesses the
finest and most copious vocabulary in the world for the expression of
either sorrow or love.

It has been said that the Irish, notwithstanding a deep susceptibility
of sorrow, are a light-hearted people; and this is strictly true. What,
however, is the one fact but a natural consequence of the other? No man
for instance ever possessed a higher order of humor, whose temperament
was not naturally melancholy, and no country in the world more