the preceding evening engaged in arduous endeavours to comprehend the reasonings of various philosophers on the connection of mind with matter, and the mysterious manner in which both seem blended in the human individual, be expected on the following day to take an active interest in the labours of a mechanical vocation, or in the vulgar sports that made the village echo near his dwelling? There is no fact, however, more notorious than the possibility of uniting an extensive knowledge of, and the liveliest interest in, moral studies with a very inferior course of moral practice. The pleasure which Godfrey took in such pursuits as we have described was one of a purely intellectual character; the heart had little or nothing to do with it. He pleased himself with the noble exercise which the subject afforded to the faculties of his understanding, and thought little of deducing rules of practice from the sublime and immutable truths which he contemplated. Satisfied to let his imagination roam through the boundless sea of being, he bestowed comparatively little thought on the necessity of fulfilling with exactness the part allotted to himself in the universal scheme, and used the light afforded him, rather for the gratification of an active spirit than for the direction of his course through life. His silence, however, and his habits of application, produced a strong impression of his learning on the rustics in his neighbourhood, and they looked on him as one of the profoundest scholars in the world. There lived at this time in B a family of the name of Renahan, who were looked upon as amongst the leading denizens of the place. Mary, the eldest daughter of the house, was, in her seventeenth year, considered one of the wonders of the village. Her beauty was the subject of praise amongst the young, and her genuine piety and modesty amongst the old. Of the former, all had not the opportunity of judging, for Mary Renahan (who was too humble to aspire to the magnificence of a bonnet) took care never to appear unhooded in the public streets; and he who by any chance had seen her countenance, was accustomed to tell it as an adventure worth recording to his companions in the evening. Mary was rich, cheerful, and handsome; it was therefore the subject of general amazement, when the rumour spread that she was about to become the bride of the poor, the melancholy, and the ungainly Godfrey O'Berne. Such, however, was the truth. Let who will divine the cause, the gay and gentle Mary Renahan gave up, without hesitation, her liberty and her affections into the hand of one who was regarded by the rest of her companions either with ridicule or fear. From the day of his marriage, Godfrey O'Berne seemed to have renounced his speculative habits, and became practically industrious. He was attentive to his business, and began to laugh and jest with his customers in such a manner as to remind them of his father. To him belonged the economy of the basin and the strop, the scissors and the curling iron. His part it was to amuse the minds, while he trimmed the whiskers of his customers; and to enlighten the interior of the heads that came beneath his hand, while he reduced the outside to the standard of fashion and of grace. The regulation of the domestic department was committed exclusively to the management of Mrs. O'Berne, who was as attentive to the minor affairs of the little establishment as she was to the happiness and comfort of her lord. An over-rigid economy, however, was not the fault of either master or mistress; and while custom increased, and comforts multiplied, the case was exactly the reverse with the hundred pounds which the latter had brought her husband as a dowry, and which they had set apart at first, in order that it might perform for their eldest daughter the same good office which it had done for Mrs. O'Berne. Still all was gay and happy at the barber's. As a husband and a father he had more than the average share of happiness, and less than the average share of care. His wife seemed well contented with the portion of enjoyment which their means afforded her; and his three children were promising in mind and frame. Mortimer, the eldest, could already make a decent "pothook" in his copy-book, and the others knew as much of letters as Cadmus himself at twice their age, or as Charlemagne is said to have done while he was shaking Europe from the Baltic to the Alps. Occasionally, in the long summer evenings, Godfrey would take down his violin, on which he was a tolerable proficient, and in the absence of professional employment, enliven the house with some old national air, to which his wife would sometimes add the melody of a tolerable voice. More frequently they would devote the evening to a walk through the village, where their decent appearance attracted general notice. Indeed they were not without being censured for over daintiness of dress by some of those sharp-eyed individuals, who, when they can discover nothing to ridicule in a neighbour's meanness, had rather find the contrary fault than let him pass unwounded. Nor were these the only annoyances from which the comforts of the barber received a slight alloy. That class of young persons inhabiting the purlieus of most towns and villages, who are emphatically distinguished by the epithet of "the blackguards", seemed, with that mischievous instinct which enables men to distinguish what is ludicrous in human avocations, to have marked out O'Berne for their special amusement. Sometimes they would snatch a new toy or wedge of bread from the hands of his children as they stood gaping at the open door; at others, they chalked uncivil nick-names on his pannels; or else (and this was the unkindest cut of all) a whole gang of them would watch an opportunity when he and his wife were walking in all their finest through the village on a Sunday evening, and set up in full chorus the popular ballad: Mullins the barber grew so grand, He listed in the Sligo band; He knocked his nose against the gate, etc. But notwithstanding these unavoidable mortifications, peace still abode on the household of O'Berne, and the tranquillity of his mind received no worldly shock that could bear an instant's comparison with the sum of his enjoyments. CHAPTER VIII. Ir was on Saturday evening, and the shop was thronged, as usual, with a crowd of hairy heads, and chins as rough as hedge-hogs with the stubble of the week. On the operating chair sat Molony, the blacksmith, the napkin tucked beneath his massive jaws, and his chin already white from ear to ear, adding a twofold grimness to the smoke and ashes that encased the upper portion of his countenance. A thoughtful silence for some time prevailed, while the eyes of all watched with a lazy admiration the skill with which the barber's razor flew along the blacksmith's spacious jaws, demolishing, at every stroke, a long flourishing harvest, and leaving behind it a fair and glossy surface. At length, Mac Namara the carpenter, who was one of the village dandies, and waited to have his hair brought into form, broke silence as follows: "Well, of all de tings dat ever was done to me, dat's de last I could ever bear-to have anoder man shave me. Not meanin' de laste asparagement to Mr. O'Berne, nor to his profession eider-but de iday of anoder man takin' me be de nose, an' sweepin' a razhure up me troat, is what I never could abide de toughts o' doin' ". "When you have a beard at all, Tom Mac", said O'Reilly the cooper, taking a pipe from his mouth, and looking over his shoulder at the speaker, "it may come to your turn to talk of shaving it". "Surely, surely, Ned. Well den, it's come to your turn to talk of it, any way, and to do it for I declare dere isn't a chin in Brazhure". "Thrue for you, Tom. stands more in need o' de There's this difference betune you an' me,-that you shave to get a beard, an' I shave to get rid of it". The conversation dropped, but there was a portion of it which was not forgotten. A weak imagination is easily impressed. With all his learning and capacity, it was long before O'Berne could get rid of the horrid idea which was suggested by the carpenter's random words. His mind, though well enough supplied with knowledge, was not subdued to any wholesome discipline; and such minds are often the prey of every wandering fancy. From time to time he would start as the foolish thought suggested itself to his imagination, and shudder, as if the carpenter's words showed anything more than an extravagant caprice. Still these were weaknesses known only to himself, and his general prosperity continued unabated. Most minds, as well as bodies, have their peculiar constitution, and their peculiar ailment or "idiosyncrasy", which it requires the hand of a nice and delicate counsellor to deal with. Instead of despising the crowd of morbid thoughts, which, arising like clouds, would gradually overshadow his whole imagination, as he dwelt on those expressions of the carpenter, O'Berne encouraged, examined, and brooded on them, until at length they communicated something like a settled tinge to his whole character. Could such |