“I think, my dear M—, you had better let it alone; the less we say about it the better. You know we really led the fight—that’s a fact that can’t be denied; though it surprises me how we were hooked into it.”
A rustle at the door, followed by a loud knock, announced that the newspaper had been thrust into the letter-box, from which Dr H— immediately extracted it; and as he glanced over the page, the following paragraph met his eye. It was headed “Disgraceful and fatal riot at Donnybrook:”
“It is with mingled feelings of indignation, horror, and contempt, that we feel bound, in discharge of our imperative, onerous, and painful duty to the public, to give publicity to one of the most astounding, frightful, and overwhelming facts which it has ever fallen to our lot, as faithful journalists, to record. The peaceable, gentle, and innoxious inhabitants of the village of Donnybrook, and the casual visitors who sought a little innocent recreation at the fair now being holden, were yesterday evening thrown into a state of the utmost alarm, confusion, and dismay, by a barefaced attempt to carry off by brutal force a young girl from the guardianship and protection of her brother. It appears that they had gone into a tent to rest and refresh themselves (having probably over-exerted their light fantastic toes), when their savage assailants (respecting whose rank and station various rumours are afloat, which for the present we forbear from mentioning) rushed upon them, and endeavoured to force her away. The indignant bystanders interfered to prevent the outrage, when—will it, can it be believed? our pen trembles, and a cold thrill runs through us as we write it!—the worse than Indian war-whoop, the yell of the collegians, was raised, and their numbers would in all human probability have succeeded, but for the timely interference of the police, to whose humanity, promptitude, and forbearance, upon the trying occasion, too much praise cannot be given. The riot was not quelled until the military were called out, and by three o’clock this morning all was again quiet. Up to the time of going to press we had only heard of sixteen lives being lost.
Second Edition.—We stop the press to announce that no lives have been lost; but Sir Patrick Dunn’s, the Meath, and Mercer’s hospitals, are crowded with wounded. N.B. The soldiers were not called out.
Third Edition.—Dr Fitzgerald has just informed us that there are no wounded in either Sir Patrick’s, the Meath, or Mercer’s.”
“Well,” said Dr H—, “if they are not there, we at least know where some of them are.”
Naisi.
WHAT IS THE USE OF WATER?
Why is it that of the whole surface of this globe, we may consider that three-fourths are covered by water, and that only one-fourth is in a condition to be permanently inhabited by human beings? Is there any great object in nature served by this? Is there any law of nature which would prevent the proportion being one-fourth water to three-fourths land, or even less water? In fact, what after all is the great use of water upon the large scale in nature?