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 other, a cultivated literary taste. But, for this very reason, it is just the kind of selection which the general reader is least able to make for him self.

I regret, I must own, that your critic confused his range of vision so strictly historical books: for it seems to me that, while there is no lack of patient and laborious students in the department of history, the highest qualities of Irish genius have been expended more freely in other fields of literature—in poetry for instance, in rhetoric, in philosophy, in comedy, and in fiction. Nevertheless, even within the limits prescribed by "Historicus," I feel confident that it would not be difficult to find, say forty books illustrating Irish history and character, which would fairly come up to the lofty ideal of Johnson, though I cannot admit that such a collection would have any exclusive claim to the title of "the best Irish books."—Yours faithfully, 1em

 —I think you ought to be very much gratified at the effect "Historicus" has produced, and the result will be an immense advance in Irish literature of all descriptions and the reproduction of many works long forgotten and too long neglected.

I would suggest to "Historicus," from an art point of view, the addition to his list of Moore's Melodies, illustrated by Maclise, and O'Neill's Irish Crosses. The old Dublin Penny Journal might also have a place. 

 London, March 25th.

—One of the first things to notice about "Historicus" is that the title of his paper seems somewhat of a bull. There is no question of the best books or of Irish books, but merely of a hundred more or less good, and certainly mostly useful, books on Ireland by Irishmen, Englishmen, Scotchmen, and others. However, it is little matter about the title. A rose by any other name, &c. I come to the books themselves, and I am happy to find myself in nearly perfect agreement with "Historicus" about the first name in his list. Mr. Lecky is, as an historian, everything Historicus says he is, and indeed far more. Alas that the politician should fall so far short of the historian. As I write in the capital of the enemy I read a speech of Mr. Lecky, delivered in the same place. There is in this anything indeed but an inherent love of justice, anything but "an earnest desire to be fair," and anything, I am sorry to add, but "transparent honesty." I still sincerely believe Mr. Lecky to be honest, but I must candidly confess that i do not understand why he should apparently so suddenly set up as such a staunch Unionist. His letter in the Times, however melancholy, was in a measure intelligible, but his speech at Kensington seems quite on the same plain [sic] as the utterances as the Saundersons, Churchills, Arnold Forsters, and other maligners, native and foreign, of the Irish race. But enough, or perhaps more than enough, about Mr Lecky. lb saddens me beyond me issue to feel constrained to say even so much, for the present partisan of English wrong can make me altogether forget the past upholder of Irish right. Before I pass from Mr. Lecky, however, I take exception to his being talked of as "among the greatest of living writer's—"I suppose "Historicus" means writers in English—but even then the praise is exaggerated, for Mr, Lecky as a writer is not within even measurable distance of such men as Newman, Ruskin, Froude, not to talk of others who might easily be mentioned. I roughly agree too with the second paragraph of "Historicus's" article, but I utterly disagree wrth the reason assigned for Mr. Richey not being so well-known as he ought. The chief fault in this paragraph, a serious one enough, however, is one rather of omission than commission. It is odd that the honoured name of O'Curry should not have suggested the intimately associated and perhaps equally honoured name of O'Donovan, John O'Donovan, if not by name at least by his work, comes in indeed in the next paragraph, for I suppose "Historicus" in talking with doubtful facetiousness about the "Annals of the Four Masters" means to recommend to his readers John O'Donovan's translation of that great work. There is no need to say more here of John O'Donovan, who should always be mentioned with his eminent brother-in-law as one of our two greatest Irish scholars and antiquarians. Most of his works are, it is pretty well known, to be found in the collections of the Irish Archaeological, Celtic, and other learned Irish societies, and in the more obscure and more un-come-at-able pages of long since dead and buried magazines, such as the old Dublin Penny Journal and the mere recent Duffy's Hibernian, I write this last title doubtfully, but it is a matter of no earthly consequence, save that it is always of some consequence to be as accurate as one can be and in this connection I must remind the readers of the Freeman that I am writing currento calamo, with not too easy (to a lazy man) access to books, and with the object mainly of such more or less superficial criticism of "Historicus" as the conditions of the case will warrant, and without any pretension to anything like an exhaustive treatment of his sufficiently wide theme. And talking of criticism brings me back to "Historicus's" third paragraph, and the astounding sentence which closes it—"In truth, no general history of Ireland worthy of being placed among the productions of Lingard, Hume, Green, or Barton, has yet been written." This means, but somewhat insufficiently, and altogether incorrectly expresses, an undoubted fact, that nobody has written a history of Ireland at all comparable to Lingard's, Hume's, or Green's histories of England, or Barton's History of Scotland. Most of what is said in this paragraph is correct, but might it not be said of all the general histories of England as well as Ireland, save perhaps Green's, that they "are far below the scientific standard of the age?" I fancied, too, that M'Geoghegan's rather than O'Connor, was considered "on the whole the best" on the Catholic side. I speak dubiously here because I must confess to having found M'Geoghegan rather heavy and wearisome when read or tried to read him some thirty or more years ago, and I do not know that I have ever done more than dip into Plowden. Here too, or in the succeeding paragraph, I expected to find some mention of