It is not in nature to conceive any expression of sorrow more penetrating than that which mourns in the wail of an ancient Irish ditty. Charlotte has contrived to procure several airs which are not in Moore's collection, and which carry internal evidence of antiquity in the irregularity of their _rhythm_, if I may apply such a term to music. No sea bird's note was ever more sweetly sad; and she has picked up translations from time to time of some poetical fragments which she has adapted with great taste, as well as judgment to the music, for which she has often been indebted to the peasants as they pursued their daily toil; not that _they_ sing agreeably in almost any instance, I am told; the extreme barbarism which is induced by such poverty as reigns in the South of Ireland, is very unfavourable to the Muses; yet they _will_ linger amongst a people who possess such uncommon tact in appreciating their charms, notwithstanding the homely reception with which they are obliged to be contented. A death-song (_vulg. caöne_ or _keen_), the words of which, I believe, are published in a late work on the Antiquities of this Kingdom, by Mr. Croker, and which Charlotte has set to an old _howl_ that she heard a poor woman uttering (for singing would be a misnomer) with nasal twang, as she milked her cow, is the most heart-rending melody that I ever heard; and a march which she plays, to which the famous Brian Boirombh led his troops forward at the battle of Clontarf, is remarkable for a character of pathetic grandeur that I never found before in martial music. Russell's feelings underwent such excitement during the evening, that had not his sex preserved him from the simile, we should have compared him to a Sybil in the contortions of forthcoming inspiration. I now perfectly comprehend the pleasure which, I am informed, some of our first-rate public performers profess in exhibiting their powers to an Irish audience. The Irish feel music in the "heart of heart," and express what they feel with peculiar energy. Our English guests are _bitten_ I promise you; I heard them both emphatically declare their gratitude to Mrs. Fitzroy for her introduction to this "charming family," but I _must_ have a nap before we sally out upon Lake adventures, so fare thee well. On my return you may expect a budget. Vale, vale, yours ever, A. HOWARD. LETTER XV. MISS HOWARD TO A. HOWARD, ESQ. Dear Arthur,