The Bedford Gazette

IRISH PEASANTRY.

A gentleman who has traveled much in Ireland, says the native urbanity of the Irish peasants to each other is very pleasing. I have frequently seen them take off their hats, and salute each other with great civility. The expressions of these poor fellows, upon meeting one another, are full of cordiality. One of them in Dublin, met a boy after his own heart, who, in the sincerity of his soul, exclaimed: "Patrick, my soul glad to see you, for in troth I wish you well." "By my soul, I know it," said the other, "but you have but the half of it"—that is the pleasure of meeting was divided. If you ask a common fellow in the streets of Dublin, which is the way to such a place, he will take off his hat, and, if he does not know, he will either direct you though he knows nothing, or it is more rare not to tell you so, (for his imagination, ever ready, he will say, "I shall find it out for your honor immediately") and away he flies into some shop for information, which he is happy to be the bearer of without any hope of reward.

Among the mortuary peculiarities of the Irish, their love for posthumous honors is worthy of remark. An elderly man, whom a much esteemed clergyman attended in the last stage of existence, met his death with fortitude, but expressed his grief that his dissolution should take place at a time when the employments of spring would prevent his funeral from being numerously attended. This is a general national trait; and a grievous imprecation, in the Irish language is, "May your burial be forsaken!" They have another very figurative malediction—"May the grass grow green before your door!"