Miss Mulholland's Poems: "Vagrant Verses."
Rosa Mulholland is a name well known to the readers of Catholic fiction. She is one of the most graceful, pure and tender writers we have. Hundreds of thousands of Catholic young people owe her some of the most pleasant hours that brighten happy youth. Her sweet fancy has revelled in the sunshine of melodious poesy, as well as in the green fields of fresh and charming prose. Her new book, "Vagrant Verses," is a real bosom companion, a jewel of dear books. Its prevailing tone is soothing tenderness, touched, as is usual with Irish singers, with sadness—but this is not the despairing sadness so prevalent to-day among those beyond the fold of Peter. What has been said of her splendid sister of song, Kate Tynan, may be as truly said of Miss Mulholland,—she cannot be all sad. In her darkest hour you have always a streak of dawn in the east. Her poetry is more domestic and tranquil than that of the "Thrush of Glenna Smoil," whose magnificent strains in "Louise," "Joan," "Vivia Perpetua," and so many others, recall to our minds those words of the immortal lay:
"Binn sin, a toin Dhaire an Chairn!
Ni chualas, an árd 's an m-bith,
Ceol budh binne na dho guth,
Acas thu fa bun do nid."
"Sweet thy song, blackbird of th' oak grove of Charn!
Heard I never in all the vast wide world
Song than thine more sweet—voice of song supreme!
Sitting thy nest beneath, singing thy song divine."
It is a great blessing to Erin in these hard, wrangling times, when so much that is good and sweet threatens to disappear, to have two such noble singers raising their melodious voices to appease the angry passions of men. Nor should he be forgotten, who has been the maccenas of these gifted and noble daughters of holy church—Rev. Fr. Matthew Russell, S. J., himself a sweet and true poet. Nor can I close this short notice without the feeble tribute of a word to one so dear to these three, and so dear to us all, Rev. Joseph Farrell, now with God—whose sweet wisdom is fertile in many hearts.
J. Keegan.
Seeing the Old Year Out: A True Story.
Scene, four young fellows were seated together in the dining-room drinking "the old year out" in a punch of Patrick Hallahan's best brew.
"Well, here's to the good old year of '82," said Patrick, raising his glass high above his head, "may the incoming year be as kind to us."
"Amen to that," said Phil, his brother.