THEY THEN commenced, in a tone of mock gravity, to lecture him upon his future duties - detailing the advantages of his situation, and the comforts he would enjoy among them - although they might as well have addressed themselves to the stone on the other side. In this manner they got along, amusing themselves at Mat’s expense, and highly elated with the success of their undertaking. About two o’clock in the morning they reached the top of the little hill above the village, when, on looking back along the level stretch of road which I have already described, they noticed their companions, with Mat’s wife and children, moving briskly after them. A general huzza now took place, which, in a few minutes, was answered by two or three dozen of the young folks, who were assembled in Barny Brady’s, waiting their arrival. The scene now became quite animated - cheer after cheer succeeded - jokes, laughter, and rustic wit, pointed by the spirit of Brady’s poteen, flew briskly about. When Mat was unsacked, several of them came up, and, shaking him cordially by the hand, welcomed him among them. To the kindness of this reception, however, Mat was wholly insensible, having been for the greater part of the journey in a profound sleep. The boys next slipped the loop of the sack off the straddle-pin; and, carrying Mat into a farmer’s house, they deposited him in a settle-bed, where he slept, unconscious of the journey he had performed, until breakfast-time on the next morning. In the mean time, the wife and children were taken care of by Mrs. Connell, who provided them with a bed, and every other comfort which they could require. The next morning, when Mat awoke, his first call was for a drink. (But I should have observed, that Mrs. Kavanagh had been sent for by the good woman in whose house Mat had slept, that they might all breakfast and have a drop together, for they had already succeeded in reconciling her to the change.)
 “Wather!” said Mat - “a drink of wather, if it’s to be had, for love or money, or I’ll split wid druth - I’m all in a state of conflagration; and my head - by the sowl of Newton, the invintor of fluxions - but my head is a complete illucidation of the centrifugle motion, so it is. Tundher an’ turf! is there no wather to be had? Nancy, I say, for God’s sake, quicken yourself wid the hydraulics, or the best mathemathician in Ireland’s gone to the abode of Euclid and Pythagorass, that first invented the multiplication table.”
 On cooling his burning blood with the “hydraulics”, he again lay down, with an intention of composing himself for another sleep; but his eye having noticed the novelty of his situation, he once more called Nancy.
 “Nancy, avourneen, he enquired”, will you be afther resolving me one single proposition - Where am I at the present spaking? Is it in the Siminary at home, Nancy?”
 Nancy, in the mean time, had been desired to answer in the affirmative, hoping that if his mind was made easy on that point, be might refresh himself by another hour or two’s sleep, as he appeared to be not at all free from the effects of his previous intoxication.
 “Why, Mat, jewel, where else would you be, a lannah, but at home? Sure, isn’t here Jack, and Biddy, an’ myself, Mat, agra, along wid me. Your head isn’t well, but all you want is a good rousin’ sleep.”
 “Very well, Nancy; very well, that’s enough - quite satisfacthory - quod erat demonstrandum. May all kinds of bad luck rest upon the Findramore boys, any way! The unlucky vagabonds - I’m the third they’ve done up. Nancy, off wid ye, like quicksilver for the priest.”
 “The priest! Why, Mat, jewel, what puts that in your head? Sure, there’s nothing wrong wid ye, only the sup o’ dhrink you tuck yestherday.”
“Go, woman;” said Mat, “did you ever know me to make a wrong calculation. I tell you, I’m non compos mentis from head to heel. Head! by my sowl, Nancy, it’ill soon be a caput mortuum wid me - I’m far gone in a disease they call an opthical delusion - the devil a thing less it is - me bein’ in my own place, an’ to think I’m lyin’ in a settle-bed; that there is a large dresser, covered wid pewter dishes and plates; and, to crown to all, the door on the wrong side of the house. Off wid ye, an’ tell his Reverence that I want to be anointed, and to die in pace and charity wid all men: - may the most especial kind of bad luck light down upon you, Findramore, an’ all that’s in you, both man and baste - you have given me my gruel along wid the rest; but, thank God, you won’t hang me, any how! Off, Nancy, for the priest, till I die like a Christhan, in pace and forgiveness wid the world; - all kinds of hard fortune to them! Make haste, woman, if you expect me to die like a Christhan. If they had let me alone till I’d publish to the world my Treatise upon Conic Sections; but to be cut off on my march to fame! Another draught of the hydraulics, Nancy, an’ then for the priest; but see, bring Father Connell, the curate, for he understands something about Mathew-maticks; an’ never heed Father Roger, for little he knows about them, not even the difference betune a right line and a curve - in the page of histhory, to his everlastin’ disgrace, be it recorded.”
 “Mat”, replied Nancy, scarcely preserving her gravity, “keep yourself from talkin’, and fall asleep, then you’ll be well enough.”
 “Is there e’er a sup at all in the house?” said Mat; “if there is, let me get it; for there’s an ould proverb, though it’s a most unmathematical axiom as ever was invinted - ‘try a hair of the same dog that bit you’; give me a glass, Nancy, any how - an’ you can go for Father Connell after. Oh, by the sowl of Isaac, that invinted fluxions, what’s this for?”
 A general burst of laughter followed this demand and ejaculation; and Mat sat up once more in the Settle, and examined the place with keener scrutiny. Nancy herself laughed heartily; and, as she handed him the full glass, entered into an explanation of the circumstances attending his translation.
 Mat, at all times rather of a pliant disposition, felt rejoiced on finding that he was still compos mentis; and on hearing what took place, he could not help entering into the humour of the enterprise, at which he laughed as heartily as any of them.
 “Mat”, said the farmer, and half a dozen of the neighbours, “you’re a happy man; there’s a hundred of the boys have a school-house half built for you this same blessed shining morning, while you’re lying at ase in your bed.”
 “By the sowl of Newton, that invented fluxions!” replied Mat, “but I’ll take revenge for the disgrace you put upon my profission, by stringing up a school-master among you, and I’ll hang you all! It’s death to stale a four-footed animal; but what do ye desarve for stalin’ a Christhan baste, a two-legged school-masther without feathers, eighteen miles, and he not to know it?”
 In the course of a short time Mat was dressed, and having found benefit from the “hair of the dog that bit him”, he tried another glass, which strung his nerves, or, as he himself expressed it - “ they’ve got the raal mathemathical tinsion agin.” What the farmer said, however, about the school-house, had been true. Early that morning all the growing and grown young men of Findramore and its “vircinity” had assembled, selected a suitable spot, and, with merry hearts, were then busily engaged in erecting a school house for their general accommodation.
 The manner of building hedge school-houses being rather curious, I will describe it. The usual spot selected for their erection is a ditch on the road-side, in some situation where there will be as little damp as possible. From such a spot an excavation is made equal to the size of the building, so that, when this is scooped out, the back side-wall and the two gables are already formed, the banks being dug quite perpendicularly. The front side-wall, with a window in each side of the door, is then built of clay or green sods laid along in rows; the gables are also topped with sods, and, perhaps, a row or two laid upon the back side-wall, if it should be considered too low. Having got the erection of Mat’s house thus far, they procured a scraw-spade, and repaired with a couple dozen of cars to the next bog, from which they cut the light heathy surface in stripes the length of the roof. A scraw-spade is an instrument resembling the letter T, with an iron plate at the lower end, considerably bent, and well adapted for the purpose for which it is intended. Whilst one party cut the scraws, another bound the couples and bauks, and a third cut as many green branches as were sufficient to wattle it. The couples, being bound, were raised - the ribs laid on - then the wattles, and, afterwards, the scraws. Whilst these successive processes went forward, another party had been engaged all the morning cutting rushes; and the scraws were no sooner laid on, than half a dozen thatchers mounted the roof, and long before the evening was closed, a school-house, capable of holding nearly a hundred children, was finished. But among the peasantry no new house is ever put up without a hearth-warming, and a dance. Accordingly, the clay floor was paired - a fiddler procured - Barny Brady and his stock of poteen sent for; the young women of the village and surrounding neighbourhood attended in their best finery; dancing commenced - and it was four o.’clock the next morning when the merry-makers departed, leaving Mat a new home and a hard floor, ready for the reception of his scholars.
 Business now commenced. At nine o’clock the next day Mat’s furniture was settled in a small cabin, given to him, at a cheap rate, by one of the neighbouring farmers; for, whilst the school-house was being built, two men, with horses and cars, had gone to Clansallagh, accompanied by Nancy, and removed the furniture, such as it was, to their new residence. Nor was Mat, upon the whole, displeased at what had happened; he was now fixed in a flourishing country - fertile and well cultivated; nay, the bright landscape which his school-house commanded was sufficient in itself to reconcile him to his situation. The inhabitants were in comparatively good circumstances; many of them wealthy, respectable farmers, and capable of remunerating him very decently for his literary labours; and what was equally flattering, there was a certainty of his having a numerous and well-attended school, in a neighbourhood with whose inhabitants he was acquainted.
 Honest, kind-hearted Paddy! - pity that you should ever feel distress or hunger! - pity that you should be compelled to seek, in a neighbouring land, the hard-earned pittance by which you keep the humble cabin over the head of your chaste wife and naked children! Alas! what noble materials for composing a national character, of which humanity might be justly proud, if raised and cultivated by a Christian education! Pardon me, gentle readers, for this momentary ebullition; I grant I am a little dark now. I assure you, however, the tear of enthusiastic admiration is warm on my eye-lids, when I remember the flitches of bacon, the sacks of potatoes, the bags of meal, the miscawns of butter, and the dishes of eggs - not omitting creat after creat of turf which came in such rapid succession to Mat Kavanagh, during the first week on which he opened his school. Ay, and many a bottle of stout poteen, when “The eye of the gauger saw it not”, was, with a sly, good-humoured wink, handed over to Mat or Nancy, no matter which, from under the comfortable drab jock, with velvet-covered collar, erect about the honest, ruddy face of a warm, smiling farmer, or the tattered frize of a poor labourer - anxious to secure the attention of the “masther” to his little “Shoneen”, whom, in the extravagance of his ambition, he destined to “wear the robes as a clargy.” Let no man say, I repeat, that the Irish are not fond of education.
 In the course of a month Mat’s school was full to the door-posts, for, in fact, he had the parish to himself - many attending from a distance of three, four, and five miles. His merits, however, were believed to be great, and his character for learning stood high, though unjustly so; for a more superficial and, at the same time, a more presuming dunce never existed; but his character alone could secure him a good attendance; he, therefore, belied the unfavourable prejudices against the Findramore folk, which had gone abroad, and was a proof, in his own person, that the reason of the former schoolmasters’ miscarriage, lay in the belief of their incapacity, which existed among the people. But Mat was one of those showy, shallow fellows, who did not lack for assurance.
 The first step a hedge schoolmaster took, on establishing himself in a school, was to write out, in his best copperplate hand, a flaming advertisement, detailing, at full length, the several branches he professed himself capable of teaching. I have seen many of these - as who, that is acquainted with Ireland, has not ? - and, beyond all doubt, if the persons that issued them were acquainted with the various heads recapitulated, they must have been buried in the most profound obscurity, as no man but a walking Encyclopaedia - an Admirable Crichton - could claim an intimacy with them, embracing, as they often did, the whole circle of human knowledge. ’Tis true, the vanity of the pedagogue had full scope in these advertisements, as there was none to bring hirn to an account, except some rival, who could only attack him on those practical subjects which were common to both. Independently of this, there was a good- natured collusion between them on those points which were beyond their knowledge, inasmuch as they were not practical but speculative, and by no means involved their character or personal interests. The next Sunday, therefore, after Mat’s establishment at Findramore, you might see a circle of the peasantry assembled at the chapel door, perusing, with suitable reverence and admiration on their faces, the following advertisement; or, perhaps, Mat himself, with a learned, consequential air, in the act of explaining it to them.

Having posted this document upon the chapel-door, and in all the public places and cross roads of the parish, Mat considered himself as having done his duty. He now began to teach, and his school continued to encrease to his heart’s content, every day bringing him fresh scholars. ln this manner he flourished till the beginning of winter, when those boys, who, by the poverty of their parents, had been compelled to go to service to the neighbouring farmers, flocked to him in numbers, quite voracious for knowledge. An addition was consequently built to the school-house, which was considerably too small; so that, as Christmas approached, it would be difficult to find a more numerous or merry establishment under the roof of a hedge school. But it is time to give an account of its interior.
 The reader will then be pleased to picture to himself such a house as I have already described, - in a line with the hedge; the eave of the back roof within a foot of the ground behind it; a large hole exactly in the middle of the “riggin” as a chimney; immediately under which is an excavation in the floor, formed by a large fire of turf, loosely heaped together. This is surrounded by a circle of urchins, sitting on the bare earth, and exhibiting a series of speckled shins, all radiating towards the fire, like sausages on a Poloni dish. There they are - wedged as close as they can sit; one with half a thigh off his breeches - another with half an arm off his tattered coat - a third without breeches at all, wearing, as a substitute, a piece of his mother’s old petticoat pinned about his loins - a fourth, no coat - a fifth with a cap on him, because he has got a scald, from having sat under the juice of fresh hung bacon - a sixth with a black eye - a seventh with two rags about his heels to keep his kibes clean - an eighth crying to get home, because he has a head ache, though it may be as well to hint, that there is a drag-hunt to start from beside his father’s in the course of the day. In the ring itself, with his legs stretched in a most lordly manner, sits, upon a deal chair, Mat himself, with his hat on, basking in the enjoyment of unlimited authority. His dress consists of a black coat, considerably in want of repair, transferred to his shoulders through the medium of a clothes-broker in the county town; a white cravat, round a large stuffing, having that part of it which comes in contact with the chin somewhat streaked with brown - a black waistcoat with one or two ’tooth-an’-egg’ metal buttons sewed on where the original had fallen off - black corduroy inexpressibles, twice dyed, and sheep’s-grey stockings. In his hand is a large, broad ruler, the emblem of his power, the woful instrument of executive justice, and the signal of terror to all within his jurisdictiori. In a corner below is a pile of turf, where, on entering, every boy throws his two sods, with a pitch from under his left arm. He then comes up to the master, catches his forelock with finger and thumb, and bobs down his head, by way of making him a bow, and goes to his seat. Along the walls on the ground is a series of round stones, some of them capped with a straw collar or hassock, on which the boys sit; others have bosses, and many of them hobs - a light but compact kind of boggy substance found in the mountains. On these several of them sit; the greater number, however, have no seats whatever, but squat themselves down, without compunction, on the hard floor. Hung about, on wooden pegs driven into the walls, are the shapeless yellow “caubeens” of such as can boast the luxury of a hat, or caps made of goat or hare skin, the latter having the ears of the animal rising ludicrously over the temples, or cocked out at the sides, and the scut either before or behind, according to the taste or humour of the wearer. The floor, which is only swept every Saturday, is strewed over with tops of quills, pens, pieces of broken slate, and tattered leaves of “Reading made easy”, or fragments of old copies. In one corner is a knot engaged at “Fox-and- geese”, or the “Walls of Troy”, on their slates; in another, a pair of them are “fighting bottles”, which consists in striking the bottoms together, and he whose bottle breaks first of course loses. Behind the master is a third set, playing “Heads and points” - a game of pins. Some are more industriously employed in writing their copies, which they perform seated on the ground, with their paper on a copy-board - a piece of planed deal the size of the copy, an appendage now nearly exploded - their cheek-bones laid within half an inch of the left side of the copy, and the eye set to gulde the motion of the hand across, and to regulate the straightness of the lines and the forms of the letters. Others, again, of the more grown boys, are working their sums with becoming industry. In a dark corner are a pair of urchins thumping each other, their eyes steadily fixed on the master, lest he might happen to glance in that direction. Near the master himself are the larger boys, from twenty-two to fifteen - shaggy-headed slips, with loose-breasted shirts lying open about their bare chests; ragged colts, with white, dry, bristling beards upon them, that never knew a razor; strong stockings on their legs; heavy brogues, with broad nail-paved soles; and breeches open at the knees. Nor is the establishment altogether without females; but these, in hedge schools, were too few in number to form a distinct class. They were for the most part the daughters of wealthy farmers, who considered it necessary to their respectability, that they should not be altogether illiterate; such a circumstance being a considerable draw back, in the opinion of an admirer, from the character of a young woman for whom he was about to propose - a draw back too, which was always weighty in proportion to her wealth or respectability.
 Having given our readers an imperfect sketch of the interior of Mat’s establishment, we will now proceed, however feebly, to represent him at work - with all the machinery of the system in full operation.
 “Come, boys, rehearse. ... (buzz, buzz, buzz.) ... I’ll soon be after calling up the first spelling lesson - (buzz, buzz, buz) - then the mathematicians - bookkeepers - Latinists, and Grecians, successfully. (Buz buzz, buz)...Silence, there below! your pens? Tim Casey, isn’t this a purty hour o’ the day for you to come in to school at; arrah, and what kept you, Tim? Walk up wid yourseff here, till we have a confabulation together; you see I love to be talking to you.” ... “Sir, Larry Brannigan; here, he’s throwing spits at me out of his pen.” ... (buzz, buzz, buz) ...”
 “By my sowl, Larry, there’s a rod steeped for you.” - (”Fly away, Jack - fly away, Jill; come again, Jack -”.)...
“I had to go to Paddy Nowlan’s for tobaccy, Sir, for my father.” ... (Weeping, with his hand knowingly across his face - one eye laughing at his comrades) ...
  “You lie it wasn’t.”
 “If you call me a liar agin, I’ll give you a dig in the mug.”
 “It’s not in your jacket.”
 “Isn’t it ?”
 “Behave yourself; ha! there’s the masther looking at you - ye’ll get it now.” ...
 “None at all, Tim ? - and she’s not afther sinding an excuse wid you ? - what’s that undher your arm . My Gough, Sir.”... (buzz, buzz, buz)
 “Silence, boys. And you blackguard Lilliputian, you, what kept you away till this ?” -
 “One bird pickin’ - two men thrashin’ - wan bird pickin’ - two men thrashin’ - one bird pickin’ -”
 “Sir, they’re stickin’ pins in me, here.”
 “Who is? Briney.”
  “I don’t know, Sir, they’re all at it.”
 “Boys, I’ll go down to yous.” ...
 “I can’t carry him, Sir, he’d be too heavy for me: let Larry Toole do it, he’s stronger nor me; any way, there he’s putting a corker pin in his mouth.” ... (buzz, buzz, buz) ...”
 “Who - hoo - hoo - hoo - I’ll never stay away agin, Sir; indeed I won’t, Sir. Oh, Sir, dear, pardon me this wan time - and if ever you cotch me doing the like agin, I’ll give you lave to welt the sowl out of me.” ... (buzz, buzz, buzz.)
 “Behave yourself, Barny Byrne.”
 “I’m not touching you.”
 “Yes you are; didn’t you make me blot my copy.”
 “Ho, by the livin’, I’ll pay you goin’ home for this.”
 “Hand me the taws.”
 “Whoo - hoo - hoo - hoo - hoo - hoo - what’ll I do, at all at all! Oh, Sir dear, Sir dear, Sir dear - hoo - hoo - hoo.”
 “Did she send no message good or had, before I lay on?”
 “Oh, not a word, Sir, only that my father killed a pig yestherday, and he wants you to go up to day at dinner time.” ...(buzz, buzz, buzz.) ...
 “It’s time to get lave, it isn’t, it is, it isn’t, it is”, &c ...”
 “You lie, I say, your faction never was able to fight ours, didn’t we lick all your dirty breed in Buillagh-battha fair?”
 “Silence there.” ... (buzz, huz, buzz.)
 “Will you meet us on Sathurday, and we’ll fight it out clane?”
 “Ha-ha-ha! Tim, but you got a big fright, any how: whist, ma bouchal, sure I was only jokin’ you; and sorry I’d be to bate your father’s son, Tim. Come over, and sit beside myself at the fire here. Get up, Micky Donoghue, you big burnt-shin’d spalpeen you, and let the dacent boy sit at the fire..”
“Hullabaloo hoo - hoo - hoo - to go to give me such a welt, only for sitting at the fire, and me brought turf wid me.”
 “To day, Tim?”
 “Yes, Sir.”
 “At dinner-time, is id ?”
 “Yes, Sir.”
 “Faith, the dacent strain was always in the same family.”... (buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.)
 “Horns, horns, cock horns: oh, you up’d wid them, you lifted your fingers - that’s a mark, now - hould your face, till I blacken you.” ...
 “Do you call thim two sods, Jack Lannigan? why, ’tis only one long one, broke in the middle; but you must make it up to-morrow, Jack; how is your mother’s tooth? did she get it pull’d yet ?”
 “No, Sir.”
 “Well, tell her to come to me, an’ I’ll write a charm for it, that’ill cure her... What kept you till now, Paddy Magouran?”
 “Couldn’t come any sooner, Sir.”
 “You couldn’t, Sir - and why, Sir, couldn’t you come any sooner, Sir?” ...
 “See, Sir, what Andy Nowlan done to my copy.” ... (buzz, buzz, buzz.)...
 “Silence, I’ll massacre yees, if yees don’t make less noise.”... (buzz, buzz, buzz.)
 “I was down with Mrs. Kavanagh, Sir.”
“You were, Paddy - an’ Paddy, ma bouchal, aren’t you afeard to tell me that you go to see my wife behind my back - eh, Paddy?” ...
 “Masther, Sir, spake to Jem Kenny here; he made my nose bleed.” ...
 “Eh, Paddy, an’ so you were wid my wife? (buzz, buzz, buz - omnes - ha! ha! ha!) - oh, Paddy - ha! ha! ha!” [We give this as a specimen of the morality taught in such schools.]
 “I was ony bringin’ her a layin’ hen, Sir, that my mother promised her at mass on Sunday last; an, ’pon my sowl, that was all, Sir; an’ nothin’ bad passed betuxt us.”
 “Ah, Paddy, you’re a dangerous fellow among the fair sect; I must watch you, Paddy, and your layin’ hens; for when you get among them - ha! ha! ha - you’re as full o’ mischief as an egg’s full o’ mate - (omnes - ha, ha, ha, ha!) - Silence, boys - what are you laughin’ at? - ha, ha, ha! - Paddy, can you spell Nebachodnazure for me?”
 “No Sir.”
 “No, nor a betther scholar, Paddy, could not do that, ma bouchal; but I’ll spell it for you. Silence, boys - whisht, all of yees, till I spell Nebachodnazure for Paddy Magouran. Listen; and you yourself Paddy, are one of the letthers:A turf and a clod, spells Nebachod - A knife and a razure, spells Nebachodnazure - Three pair of boots and five pair of shoes - Spells Nebachodnazure, the king of the Jews.
 “Now, Paddy, that’s spelling Nebachodnazure by the science of Ventilation; but you’ll never go that deep, Paddy. “I want to go out, if you plase, Sir.” “Is that the way you ax me, you vagabone?”
 “I want to go out, Sir” - (pulling down the fore lock).
 “Yes, that’s something dacenter: by the sowl of Newton, that invinted fluxions, if you ever forget to make a bow again, I’ll flog the guts out of you - wait till the pass comes in.”
 Then comes the spelling lesson. “Come, boys, stand up to the spelling lesson.”
“Micky, show me your book, till I look at my word. I’m fifteenth.”’ “Wait till I see my own.” ... “Why do you crush for.” ... “That’s my place.”
“No it’s not.”
“Sir, spake to - I’ll tell the masther.”
“What’s the matther there?”
“Sir, he won’t let me into my place.”
“I’m before you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I say, I am.”
“You lie, pug-face; ha, I called you pug-face, tell now if you dare.” ... “Well, boys, down with your pins in the book: who’s king?”
“I am, Sir.”
“Who’s queen?”
“Me, Sir.”
“Who’s prince?”
“I am prince, Sir.”
“Tag rag and bobtail, fall into your places.” .... “I’ve no pin, Sir.”
“Well, down with you to the tail - now boys.” Having gone through the spelling task, it was Mat’s custom to give out six hard words, selected according to his own judgrnent - as a final test: but he did not always confine himself to that. sometimes he would put a number of syllables arbitrarily together, forming a most heterogeneous combination of articulate sounds.
 “Now, boys, here’s a deep word, that’ill try yees : come, Larry, spell, me-mo-man-dran- san-ti-fi-candu-ban-dan-ti-a-li-ty; or, mis-an-thro-po-mor-phi-tani-a-nus-mi-ca-li-a-tion: - that’s too hard for you, is id? well, spell phthisic. Ho, that’s physic you’re spelling. Now, Larry, do you know the difference between physic and phthisic.”
“No, Sir”, “Well, I’ll expound it: phthisic, you see, manes - whisht boys, will yees hould yer tongues there - phthisic, Larry, signifies - that is, phthisic - mind, it’s not physic I’m expounding, but phthisic: boys will yees stop yer noise there - signifies - but Larry it’s so deep a word in larning, that I should draw it out on a slate for you: and now I remimber, man alive, you’re not far enough on yet to understand it; but what’s physic, Larry?”
“Isn’t that, Sir, what my father tuck, the day he swell’d after the kolcanen?”
“That’s the very thing, Larry; it has what larned men call a medical property, and resembles little ricketty Dan Reilly there - it’s back-going. Och! och! I’m the boy that knows things - you see now how I expounded them two hard words for yees, boys - don’t yees ?”
“Yes Sir”, &c.
 “So, Larry, you haven’t the larnin’ for that either; but here’s an ’asier one; spell me Ephabridotas - (Epaphroditas) - you can’t ! hut ! man - you’re a big dunce entirely, that little shoneen Sharkey there below would sack. God be wid the day when I was the likes of you - it’s I that was the bright gorsoon entirely - and so sign was on it, when a great larned traveller - Silence, boys, till I tell yees this, [a dead silence] - from Thrinity College, all the way in Dublin, happened to meet me one day, - seeing the slate and Gough, you see, under my arm, he axes me - ’Arrah, Mat, ’ says he, ’what are you in?’ says he. ’Faith, I’m in my breeches, for one thing, ’ says I, off hand - Silence, childre, and don’t laugh so loud; (ha, ha, ha!) So he looks closer at me: ’I see that, ’ says he, ’but what are you reading?’ ’Nothing at all at all, ’ says I; ’bad manners to the taste, as you may see, if you’ve your eye sight.’ ’ I think, ’ says he, ’you’ll be apt to die in your breeches;’ and set spurs to a fine saddle mare he rid - faith he did so - thought me so cute - (omnes - ha, ha, ha!) Whisht, boys, whisht: isn’t it a terrible thing that I can’t tell you a joke, but you split your sides laughing at it - (ha, ha, ha !) - don’t laugh so loud, Barney Casey..’.’ (Ha, ha, ha!) Barney - “I want to go out, if you plase, Sir.”
“Go, avick, you’ll be a good scholar yet, Barney.”
 “Well, Larry, you can’t spell Ephabridotas ? - thin, here’s a short weeshy one, and whoever spells it will get the pins - spell a red rogue wid three letters. You, Micky? Dan? Jack? Natty? Alick? Andy? Pether? Jim ? Tim? Pat? Rody ? - you? you? you? Now, boys, I’ll hould ye my little Andy here, that’s only beginning the Rational spelling book, bates you all; come here, Andy, alanna: now, boys, if he bates you, you must all bring him a little miscaun of butter between two kale blades, in the mornin.’, for himself; here, Andy, avourneen, spell red rogue wid three letthers.” Andy - “ M, a, t, - Mat.”
“No, no, avick, that’s myself, Andy; tis red rogue, Andy - hem ! - F - .”
“F, o, x, - fox.”
“That’s a man, Andy. Now, boys, mind what you owe Andy in the morning, plaze God, won’t yees?”
“Yes, Sir..”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I will, Sir.”
“And I will, Sir.”
“And so will I, Sir”, &c. &c. &c.
 I know not whether the Commissioners of Education found the monitorial system of instruction in such of the old hedge schools as maintained an obstinate resistance to the innovations of modern plans. That Bell and Lancaster deserve much credit for applying and extending the principle (I speak without any reference to its merits) I do not hesitate to grant: but it is unquestionably true, that the principle was reduced to practice in Irish hedge schools long before either of these worthy gentlemen were in existence. I do not, indeed, at present remember, whether or not they claim it as a discovery, or simply as an adaptation of a practice which experience, in accidental cases, had found useful, and which they considered capable of more extensive benefit. I remember many instances, however, in which it was applied - and applied, in my opinion, though not as a permanent system, yet more judiciously than it is at present. I think it is a mistake to suppose, that silence, among a number of children in school, is conducive to the improvement either of health or intellect. That the chest and the lungs are benefited by giving full play to the voice, I think will not be disputed; and that a child is capable of more intense study and abstraction in the din of a school-room, than in partial silence, (if I may be permitted the word, ) is a fact, which I think any rational observation would establish. Tliere is something cheering and cheerful in the noise of friendly voices about us - it is a restraint taken off the mind, and it will run the lighter for it - it produces more excitement, and puts the intellect in a better frame for study. The obligation to silence, though it may give the master more ease, imposes a new moral duty upon the child, the sense of which must necessarily weaken his application. Let the boy speak aloud, if he pleases - that is, to a certain pitch; let his blood circulate; let the natural secretions take place, and the physical effluvia be thrown off by a free exercise of voice and limbs: but do not keep him dumb and motionless as a statue - his blood and his intellect both in a state of stagnation, and his spirit below zero. Do not send him in quest of knowledge alone, but let him have cheerful companionship on his way; for, depend upon it, that the man who expects too much either in discipline or morals from a boy, is not in my opinion acquainted with human nature. If an urchin titter at his own joke, or that of another - if he give him a jag of a pin under the desk, imagine not that it will do him an injury, whatever Phrenologists may say concerning the organ of destruction. It is an exercise to the mind, and he will return to his business with greater vigour and effect. Children are not men, nor influenced by the same motives - they do not reflect, because their capacity for reflection is imperfect; so is their reason: whereas, on the contrary, their faculties for education (excepting judgrnent, which strengthens my argument) are in greater vigour in youth than in manhood. The general neglect of this distinction is, I am convinced, a stumbling-block in the way of youthful instruction, though it characterizes all our modern systems. We should never forget that they are children; nor should we bind them by a system, whose standard is taken from the maturity of human intellect. We may bend our reason to theirs, but we cannot elevate their capacity to our own. We may produce an external appearance, sufficiently satisfactory to ourselves; but, in the mean time, it is probable that the child may be growing in hypocrisy, and settling down into the habitual practice of a fictitious character.
 But another and more serious objection may be urged against the present strictness of scholastic discipline - which is, that it deprives the boy of a sense of free and independent agency. I speak this with limitations, for a master should be a monarch in his school, but by no means a tyrant; and, decidedly, the very worst species of tyranny, is that which stretches the young mind upon the bed of too rigorous a discipline - like the despot who exacted from his subjects so many barrels of perspiration, whenever there came a long and severe frost. Do not familiarize the mind when young to the toleration of slavery, lest it prove afterwards incapable of recognizing and relishing the principle of an honest and manly independance. I have known many children, on whom a rigour of discipline, affecting the mind only, (for corporal punishment is now almost exploded, ) impressed a degree of timidity almost bordering on pusillanimity. Away, then, with the specious and long-winded arguments of a false and mistaken philosophy. A child will be a child, and a boy a boy, to the conclusion of the chapter. Bell or Lancaster would not relish the pap or caudle-cup three times a day; neither would an infant on the breast feel comfortable after a gorge of ox beef. Let them, therefore, put a little of the mother’s milk of human kindness and consideration into their strait-laced systems.
 A hedge school-master was the general scribe of the parish, to whom all who wanted letters or petitions written, uniformly applied; the remuneration usually consisted of a bottle of whiskey.
 “An’, how long is he gone, ma’am?”
“Och, thin, masther, he’s from me goin’ on fifteen years; an’ a comrade of his was spakin.’ to Jim Dwyer, an.’ says his ridgment’s lyin’ in the Island of Budanages, somewhere in the back parts of Africa.”
“An.’ is it a letther or petition you’d be afther havin’ me to indite for you, ma.’am?”
“Och, a letther, Sir - a letther, masther; an.’ may the Lord grant you all kinds of luck, good, bad, an’ indifferent, both to you an’ yours - an’ well it’s known, by the same token, that it’s yourself has the nice hand at the pen entirely, an’ can indite a letther or pertition, that the priest o’ the parish mightn’t be ashamed to own to it.”
“Why, thin, ’tis I that ’ud scorn to deteriorate upon the superiminance of my own execution at inditin’ wid a pen in my hand: but would you feel a delectability in my superscriptionizing the epistolary correspondence, ma’am, that I’m about to adopt ?” - “ Eagh? och, what am I sayin’ ! - Sir - masther--Sir? - the noise of the crathurs, you see, is got into my ears; and, besides, I’m a bit bothered on both sides o’ my head, ever since I had that weary weed.”
“Silence, boys - bad manners to yees, will ye be asy, you Lilliputian Boeotians - by my s - - hem, - upon my credit, if I go down to that corner, I’ll castigate yees in dozens: I can’t spake to this dacent woman, with your insuperable turbulentiality.”
“Ah, avourneen, masther, but the larnin’s a fine thing, any how; an’ maybe ’tis yourself that hasn’t the tongue in your head, an’ can spake the tall, high-flown English: a wurrah, but your tongue hangs well, any how - the Lord incrase it!.”
“Lanty Cassidy, are you gettin’ on wid yer Stereometry? festina, mi discipuli; vocabo Homerum mox atque mox You see, ma’am, I must tache thim to spake an’ effectuate a translation of the larned languges sometimes.”
“Arrah, masther dear, how did you get it all into your head, at all at all?”
“Silence, boys, - tace - ’conticuere omnes intentique ora tenebant.’ Silence, I say agin.”
“You could slip over, maybe, to Doran’s, masther - do you see? you’d do it betther there, I’ll engage: sure an’ you’d want a dhrop to steady your hand, any how.”
 “Now, boys, I am goin’ to indite a small taste of literal correspondency over at the public house here; you literati will hear the lessons for me, boys, till after I’m back agin; but mind, boys - absente domino strepuunt servi - meditate on the philosophy of that; and, Mick Mahon, take your slate and put down all the names; and, upon my sow - hem - credit, I will castigate any boy guilty of misty manners on my retrogradation thither; ergo momentote, cave ne titubes mandataque frangas.”
 “In throth, Sir, I’d be long sarry to trouble you; but he’s away fifteen years, and I wouidn’t thrust it to another; and the corplar that commands the ridgment would regard your hand-write and your inditin.”
“Don’t, ma’am, plead the smallest taste of apology.”
“Eagh?”
 “I’m happy that I can sarve you, ma’am.”
 “Musha long life to you, masther, for that same, any how - but it’s yourself that’s deep in the larnin’ an’ the langridges; the Lord incrase yer knowledge - sure, an’ we all want his blessin’ you know.”

 “Well, boys, ye’ve been at it - here’s swelled faces and bloody noses - what blackened your eye, Callaghan ? - you’re a purty prime ministher, ye boxing blackguard you; I left you to keep pace among these factions, and you’ve kicked up a purty dust: what blackened your eye - egh?”
 “I’ll tell you, Sir, when I come in, if you plase.”
 “Ho, you vagabones, this is the ould work of the faction between the Bradys and the Callaghans - bastin’ one another! but by my sowl, I’ll baste you all through other. You don’t want to go out, Callaghan - you had fine work here since; there’s a dead silence now; but l’ll pay you presently. Here, Duggan, go out wid Callaghan, an.’ see that you bring him back in less than no time. It’s not enough for your fathers and brothers to be at it, who have a right to fight, but you must battle betune you - have your field days itself?” (Duggan returns) - “Hoo - hoo - Sir, my nose. Oh, murdher sheery, my nose is broked!”
 “D - n your nose, you spalpeen you - where’s Callaghan?”
 “Oh, Sir, bad luck to him every day he rises out of his bed; he got a stone in his fist too, that he hot me a pelt on the nose wid, and then made off home.”
 “Home, is id? Start boys, off - chase him, lie into him - asy, curse yees, take time gettin’ out: that’s it - keep to him - don’t wait for me: take care, you little spalpeens, or you’ll brake your bones, so you will - curse the dust of this road, I can’t see my way in it!”
 “Oh! murdher, Jem, agra, my knee’s out o’ joint..”
 “My elbow’s smashed, Paddy..”
 “Bad luck to him - the divil fly away wid him - oh ! ha! ha ! - oh! ha! ha! murdher - hard fortune to me, but little Mickey Geery fell, an’ thripped the masther, an’ himself’s disabled now - his black breeches split behind, too - look at him feelin.’ them - oh! oh! ha! ha! - by tare-an-ounty, Callaghan will be murdhered, if they cotch him.”
 This was a specimen of civilization which Ireland oniy could furnish: nothing, indeed, could be more perfectly ludicrous than such a chase; and such scenes were by no means uncommon in hedge schools; for, wherever severe punishment was dreaded - and, in truth, most of the hedge-masters were unfeeling tyrants - the boy, if sufficiently grown to make a good race, usually broke away, and fled home at the top of his speed. The pack then were led on by the master, who usually headed them himself, all in full cry, exhibiting such a scene as should be witnessed, in order to be enjoyed. The neighbours, men, women, and children, ran out to be spectators; the labourers suspended their work to enjoy it, assembling on such eminences as commanded a full view of the pursuit. “Bravo, boys - success, masther; lie into him - where’s yer huntin’-horn, Mr. Kavanagh - he’ll bate yees, if ye don’t take the wind of him. Well done, Callaghan, keep up yer heart, yer sowl, and you’ll do it asy - yer gainin’ on them, ma bouchal - the masther’s down, you gallows clip, an’ there’s none but the scholars afther ye - he’s safe.”
 “Not he; I’ll hould a naggin, the poor scholar has him; don’t you see he’s close at his heels.”
 “Done, by my sowl - they’ll never come up wid him; listen to their leather crackers, and cord-a-roys, as their knees bang agin one another - hark forrit, boys! hark forrit! huaw, you thieves, huaw.”
“Yer beagle is well winded, Mr. Kavanagh, an’ gives good tongue.”
 “Well, masther, you had that chase for nothin’, I see.” “Mr. Kavanagh”, another would observe, “I didn’t think you war so stiff in the hams, as to let the gorsoon bate you that-a-way - your wind’s failin’, Sir.” The schoolmaster was abroad, then, and never was the ‘march of intellect’ at once so rapid and unsuccessful.
 During the summer season, it was the usual practice for the scholars to transfer their paper, slates, and books, to the green which lay immediately behind the school house, where they stretched themselves on the grass, and resumed their business. Mat would bring out his chair, and, placing it on the shady side of the hedge, sit with his pipe in his mouth, the contented lord of his little realm, whilst nearly a hundred and fifty scholars of all sorts and sizes, lay scattered over the grass, basking under the scorching sun in all the luxury of novelty, nakedness, and freedom. The sight was original and characteristic, and such as Mr. Brougham would have been delighted with - “The schoolmaster was abroad again.” As soon as one o’clock drew near, Mat would pull out his Ring-dial, hold it against the sun, and declare the hour. “Now boys, to yer dinners, and the rest to play.”
“Hurroo, darlins’, to play - the masther says its dinner-time! - whip - spur-an’-away-grey - Hurroo - whack - hurroo.”
 “Masther, Sir, my father bid me ax you home to yer dinner.”
 “No, he’ll come to huz - come wid me if you plase, Sir.”
 “Sir, never heed them; my mother, Sir, has some of what you know - of the flitch I brought to Shoneen on last Aisther, Sir.” This was a subject on which the boys gave themselves great liberty, an invitation, even when not accepted, being an indemnity for the day; it was usually followed by a battle between the claimants, and bloody noses were the issue. The master himself, after deciding to go where he was certain of getting the best dinner, generally put an end to the quarrels by a reprimand, and then gave notice to the disappointed claimants of the successive days on which he would attend at their respective houses. “Boys, you all know my maxim; to go, for fear of any jealousies, boys, wherever I get the worst dinner; so tell me now, boys, what yer dacent mothers have all got at home for me?”
 “My mother killed a fat hen to-day, Sir, an’ you’ll have a lump of bacon and ’flat dutch’ along wid it.”
 “We’ll have hang beef and greens, Sir.”
 “We tried the praties this mornin’, Sir, an’ we’ll have new praties, and bread and butter, Sir.”
 “Well, it’s all good, boys; but rather than show favour or affection, do you see, I’ll go wid Andy, here, and take share of the hen an’ bacon; but, boys, for all that, I’m fonder of the other things, you persave; and as I can’t go wid you, Mat, tell your respectable mother that I’ll be with her to-morrow; and with you, Larry, ma bouchal, the day afther.”’
 If a master were a single man, he usually “went round” with the scholars each night; but there were generally a few comfortable farmers, leading men in the parish, at whose houses he chiefly resided; and the children of these men were treated with the grossest and most barefaced partiality. They were altogether privileged persons, and had liberty to beat and abuse the other children of the school, who were certain of being most unmercifully flogged, if they even dared to prefer a complaint against the favourites. Indeed the instances of atrocious cruelty in hedge schools, were almost incredible, and such as would, in the present enlightened time, draw down the just punishment of the law upon the head of any master who should dare to wreak his bad passions upon the child committed to his care. As to the state of the poor scholar, it exceeded belief; for he was friendless and unprotected But though legal prosecutions in those days were never resorted to, yet, according to the characteristic notions of Irish retributive justice, certain cases occurred, in which a signal, and, at times, a fatal, vengeance was executed on the person of the brutal master. Sometimes the brothers and other relatives of the mutilated child would come in a body to the school, and flog the pedagogue with his own taws, until his back was lapped in blood. Sometimes they would beat him until few symptoms of life remained.
 Occasionally he would get a nocturnal notice to quit the parish in a given time, under a penalty which seldom proved a dead letter in case of non-compliance; and not unfrequently did those whom he had, when boys, treated with such barbarity, go back to him, when young men, not so much for education’s sake as for the especial purpose of retaliating upon him for his former cruelty. When cases of this nature occurred, he found himself a mere cypher in his school, never daring to practice excessive severity in their presence. Instances have come to our own knowledge, of masters, who, for their mere amusement, would go out to the next hedge, cut a large branch of furze or thorn, and having first carefully arranged the children in a row round the walls of the school, their naked legs stretched out before them, would sweep round the branch, bristling with spikes and prickles, with all their force against their limbs, until, in a few minutes, a circle of blood was visible on the ground where they sat, their legs appearing as if they had been scarified. This the individual did, whenever he happened to be drunk, or in a remarkably good humour; the poor children, however, were obliged to laugh loud, and enjoy it, though the tears were falling down their cheeks, in consequence of the pain he inflicted. To knock down a child with the fist, was considered nothing harsh; nor, if a boy were cut, or prostrated by a blow of a cudgel on the head, did he ever think of representing the master’s cruelty to his parents. Kicking on the shin with the point of a brogue or shoe, bound round the edge of the sole with iron nails, until the bone was laid open, was a common punishment; and as for the usual slapping, horsing, and flogging, they were inflicted with a brutality that in every case richly deserved for the tyrant, not only a peculiar whipping by the hand of the common executioner, but a separation from civilized society by transportation for life. It is a fact, however, that in consequence of the general severity practised in hedge schools, excesses of punishment did not often produce retaliation against the master; these were only exceptions - isolated cases that did not affect the general character of the discipline in such schools.

[cont.]