ride on horseback to Kilkenny, between which town and Dublin a stagecoach ran, the only one at that time in the south of Ireland. This unwieldy vehicle, the first coach I ever entered, took two days to get to Dublin, distant only 56 or 58 miles. From Kilkenny, such as could get places in the coach sent their horses back by a servant, and such as could not, either rode on to the metropolis, or waited the chance of the next day's coach.

A chaise and pair, miserable in show and substance as both really were, was, however, a species of luxurious conveyance to which the ambition of the middle class of travellers never ventured to aspire. Such as were content with a less dignified mode of travelling on wheels, the city of Dublin accommodated with a vehicle unparalleled, I believe, in any part of the world, and singular in name, as well as construction. It was called a Noddy, drawn by one horse, and carrying two, or, if not of overgrown dimensions, three passengers. The body of this leathern convenience, which bore some resemblance to an old-fashioned phaeton, "beetled o'er its base" in front, the better to protect the inmates, and being slung from cross-bars by strong braces, instead of springs, nodded formidably at every movement of the horse, hence deriving the appropriate appellation of Noddy. În case of rain blowing in, a curtain of the same material afforded its friendly shelter, wrapping the passengers in total darkness, though, as far as prospect was concerned, the inconvenience was little; the only visible object, when it was undrawn, being the broad back and shoulders of the brawny driver, who rested his legs upon the shafts, and his sitting part on a sort of stool, a very little way removed from the knees of the person seated within. Simple, awkward, and uneasy as this contrivance was, it was not disdained even by senators at an earlier period than that of which I write; and a nobleman, some thirty years older than myself, too, of high rank and large estate, assured me that it was his usual conveyance to and from college, accompanied by a trusty servant, or private tutor. And what wonder? All improvement in luxuries is gradual. Did not Queen Bess some time before jog to the Parliament of Great Britain on her pillion?

and why should not an Irish senator ride without degradation in his noddy ?

Yet the travelling between Cork and Dublin, saving the indifference of the roads, and the discomfort of the conveyances, circumstances causing no complaint, because expectation looked to nothing better, afforded gratifications for which we shall vainly look at the present time. Inns were not only more numerous, but, with a few exceptions, better provided for the reception and accommodation of the lingering guests. Modern rapidity of travelling, which requires little more than postcarriages ready at a moment's call, and rarely stops but for a hasty refreshment, has greatly diminished the good cheer of the old landlord, and obliged his successor to seek compensation in extravagant prices. Excellent breakfasts might then be had for 6d. or 8d., good dinners for one shilling, superlative for 2s. 6d., and right good Bourdeaux for two British shillings per bottle, inferior wines in proportion. With those, therefore, (and they were not few,) who relished the delights of a bottle and a friend, a journey from Cork to Dublin, instead of being hurried over with the break-neck rapidity of a king's messenger, partook more of the nature of a pleasure excursion prolonged by the unwillingness of the parties to leave good cheer and good company. Business then was not of the hurrying nature that it is at present; we were mighty well satisfied to get our news and letters twice a-week; and to go to and return from Dublin in the course of a fortnight, was considered an extraordinary instance of dispatch and expedition. A gentleman about to undertake such a journey generally employed two or three days in looking out for a companion or two, and, if fortunate, was seldom very anxious about its termination. I can myself remember a party of bon vivant lawyers, some living in, and others near Cork, regular attendants of the Dublin law terms, who made it a practice to set out from Cork eight or ten days before the term's commencement. With some of them I was acquainted in their latter days, and one of them was raised to the dignity of the bench. They were men of classical attainments, agreeable conversation, and, as you may easily believe, ardent lovers of the bottle. As they were very well known on the road, the landlords were

peculiarly solicitous to please, certain, that where the wine was remarkably good, they would have the pleasure and profit of their company for more days than one. I have been assured, that this journey of 120 miles did not often terminate before the evening of the tenth day. One of the party was a relation of mine, and though I visited him while a college-boy from motives of respect, I was always in a great hurry to get back on pretence of duty, for he was a good scholar, and terribly given to examining into my proficiency in classical lore, a kindness I would most gladly have excused.

Though I have very satisfactory reasons for saying nothing of my own progress through the University of Dublin, it would be by no means pardonable to be silent respecting a few others, who there commenced that career which conducted them to subsequent distinction of very high degree. The late Lord Clare, (John Fitz-Gibbon,) and Mr Grattan, both my seniors, were, as I remember, in the same class, and constant competitors for literary honours. The advantage, I think, as far as there was any, rather leaned to Lord Clare, who, on one occasion, was honoured by an optimé; a judgment very rarely given, and never, within my knowledge, to any one else. Both were bred to the bar; but Fitz-Gibbon only, whose advancement was rapid, succeeded in that pursuit; aided no less by his own talents, than by the established fame of his father, who had long been an eminent barrister. Both these distinguished men came into Parliament pretty nearly at the same time; the latter under the wing of Government, a side to which he steadily and successfully adhered; and the former under the auspices of Lord Charlemont, one of the most honest and independent, though not perhaps always one of the wisest, patriots of the day. This threw them into perpetual, and sometimes violent contention, and converted early friendship into late hostility, the too frequent result of political disagreement, In manner and character, they were as strongly contrasted as in party opinions. Fitz-Gibbon, careless of words, but confident of matter, always spoke to the point, neglecting or despising the adventitious aid of polished diction, or rhetorical ornament. Grattan, shrewd,

sarcastic, and sententious, founded his fame on the elaborate construction of

his speeches. In point of oratory, there was no comparison; but in my own opinion, Fitz-Gibbon possessed a deeper knowledge of the world, and was endowed with superior talents as a statesman. Mr Grattan, however commendable as a theorist, does not seem to have been particularly happy in reducing that theory to practice. His ministry was short, and perhaps fortunately so. A late Bishop of Cloyne (Dr Bennett) made a sharp observation on it in the House of Lords"All I can see, my Lords, of the promised benefits of this fine administration, is this :-That they have turned out one set of public officers, and put in another, and left the nation to pay

both."

As much below me in standing, as the two great men now mentioned were above me, in the University of Dublin, was another young man, neither obtaining nor seeking college honours, though destined to fill a large space in public estimation, at a subsequent period-I mean John Philpot Curran. Of this extraordinary man's life and character, a copious account has been given to the public by his son, which I believe to be generally correct. In one circumstance I think he must be mistaken, when he intimates the doubts entertained both by Curran, and some of his friends, of his future success at the bar, in conse quence of diffidence, of the embarrassments attending a young speaker's first efforts, and the difficulty of finding apt and ready words for the expression of his thoughts. Now, I knew Curran familiarly, though not intimately, and my knowledge of him long before he studied law, emboldens me to say, that this could not be the case. When he was yet a mere stripling, he has often astonished me by the brilliancy of his conversation, by a volubility of speech, never at a loss for clothing his thoughts in the best array, and by a vividness of imagination that unceasingly presented him with lively figures and appropriate illustrations. Conscious as he was of this, and unoppressed by native modesty, he did, he could, feel no embarrassment in addressing any audience. Whatever diffidence he might feel as to strength of argument, he possessed full confidence in the power of his

much for magnesia. Might not things have been made right at first, without requiring so many helps to keep them So Very true-but what would then become of our Apothecaries' Hall? No appetite for breakfast-thinking of drugs has hurt me-must take something to keep wind out of my stomach -hate wind-never liked wind all my life was whipped when a boy for losing my cap in a squally day-took a settled disgust to it after I became underwriter-very genteel business that though; fit for those who are fit for nothing else learned how to squeeze a lemon at their club-don't recollect anything else I have to thank them for. When stirring my second cup, tax-gatherer entered-always swear when he comes round-think it does me good-lets off ill-humour, like the flood-gates on Clyde Terrace. Charged in the schedule with keeping ⚫ a gardener, though I have nothing but a threepenny pot and a bunch of daisies at my window. Was brimful of Mr M'Culloch's discoveries in political science, and let the tax-gatherer know it, and, in a pet, pushed away the tea, sugar, and every exciseable article on the table. N. B.-Never to admit these people again at mealtime-no telling what may be the consequences of my empty stomach. One should have a peel'd wand to hang before their doors when the table is spread, as my friend Bailie Jervie tells me they do in Highland change-houses when the folks within are busy.

Ten o'clock.-Morning gloomyordered my patent shoes that let the water out, having never met with any that would keep it out-thought of what I should do-scolded the servant for bringing my best wig when the weather-glass was so low-wonder why Mr has not introduced caoutchouc peruques-would keep the curl in spite of a dripping-and one could go in, and come out of the water like a sea-god, with glossy locks of India-rubber-still at a loss what to do-resolved to walk to Carmyle, to see our newly-acquired privileges by the river side.

Eleven o'clock.-Quite proud I was born a citizen of Glasgow-had a narrow escape though-was intended for Lesmahagow, had not my mother been detained in Glasgow, waiting for a new bonnet.

VOL. XIX.

Had some refreshments in my pockets-not sandwiches though—once made a vow against them; so to keep squares with my oath, put the bread in one pocket, and the ham in the other; no perjury in that. Felt quite on tip-toe as I walked along the banks, and very vain of my share in them, it being the only landed property I ever possessed-much lifted up on being mistaken for the great Mr Ferrie, the hero of the late law-suit

-met a Cambuslang weaver, who said a coach called the Carmelite was to be run along the river from Glasgow to Carmyle-lying fellows these weavers

don't believe one half they saysitting so much on their bottom inclines them to fib; all the effect of indigestion-had a sensible crack with a man in a shabby black coat, who showed me the traces of what he called "immemorial possession"—can't understand how people can acquire anything by forgetting when they got it-thought him a philosopher from the College, or at least a writer, till I discovered some threads sticking to his sleeves-after all may be a weaver -better at a shuttle than a sophism.

Twelve o'clock.-On my way back to Glasgow, mused a good deal-quite zealous to preserve our rights over the banks of the river-almost wished I had subscribed to the law-suit.Thought of all the great men Glasgow had produced-Bailie Convener and Sir John Moore -wish Sir John (talking of great folks), was in better company,-hear a great many loose women frequent George's Square, and that he spends too much of his time in their company. Still musing-wonder what all this can mean-never troubled with thinking before-all the want of my breakfast-cursed the tax-gatherer over again--resolved to join in the process against the provost and magistrates, to edge myself into notice; but recollected that his lordship had once sent me some limes, so let him off for this time-wished I had been born in a more elevated condition of life, in spite of Young, who calls "wishing the constant hectic of a fool;" won't read that book again

no

fun about the fellow-" Night Thoughts" indeed! I would as soon listen to a Somnambulist preachingfound myself at the foot of my four

pair of stairs, and thought I would be high enough in the world before I reached my own easy-chair.

One o'clock. A good deal fatigued, and very much blown-damned all publie rights and all public mendon't care a fig about the magistrates, or commissioners of police-won't subscribe a penny, or set my foot again on the banks of Clyde-nothing like the steam-boat, where you can have exercise without making your face red; and where the engine keeps all the puffing and blowing to itself-my patent shoes quite full of mud-just a portable puddle-hate patents-clever man Mr Huskisson, who is to do away with them, and make all trade free forgot the starving silk-weavers, who are without food just now, but recollected I had not taken much myselfgave instant orders about dinner-nature must be recruited-Belly a very clamorous creditor, but generally comes off with a good composition.

Two o'clock.-In the coffee-room-all my friends curious to know where I had been-something vain to find I was missed-Mr Heddles quite astonished to hear I had been so far in the country-asked my opinion about the Corn Laws-silly body that Mr Heddles, did he think I had been as far as Poland ?

Every one pushed a newspaper into my hand, and I had nearly forgotten my own side of politics in the confusion. Had I been the Seven Years Sleeper just awaked, they could not have been more anxious to supply me with intelligence-heard the Duke of York was getting too fat, and would not take advice; very foolish that, when his physician is paid by the year— was told the Catholic Association had met; all that is left of it I meanbut a Rump Parliament that, else I mistake-Mr Lawless had a set-to with Mr O'Connell-all fudge-fancy they shake hands when done, or fight with mufflers, not to hurt each other. Affairs look glum in the North-tallow rising funds dropping-butter steady-iron looking up-pork going off-soft goods hard sale-and they who have the largest stock of whisky have the smallest stock of spiritscrept into a corner to enjoy a crim. con. affair, and was home to dinner at

Three o'clock.-Beef-steak, with shred onions-very ticklish dish that, where there is only one on the table

always overdone, or underdone; and in a world where, as Johnson says, " evil predominates," seldom well done-too little fat, and a paucity of potatoes-sweet pudding, good though -never think when I am eatingspoils digestion-too great division of labour-mind and body don't feed out of the same dish-all your great thinkers lean people-daresay the "living skeleton," though the shallowest man, may be the deepest philosopher in the world-wish he would come to our Glasgow Fair-he wouldn't crowd it much.

Mem.-To stop something from the butcher for last leg of mutton-talking of legs, remarked, that Mr Sapling, wood-merchant, had got a pair of new breeches, with continuations* had no less than need of them-was very shabby thereabouts, after the fire at Miramichi.

Four, Five, and Six o'clock.-Gave orders to be denied-haven't forgotten that fellow spoiling my breakfasthope to hear some day he is superannuated, or at least suspended-don't mean hanged, though.-Cursed bad lemon that-quite sweet, and has made me quite sour-something like a pun that hate puns-won't blot it out though, but bring it in naturally at the club to-night.-Don't agree with Dr Johnson, that "he who puns would pick a pocket"-don't think so ill of either of our two great wits in Glasgow at least, never heard them suspected of it.-Capital punch that second tumbler-really good-scarcely know whether I should drink it fast or slow. What a damned rumbling these coaches make-have spilled that glass with shaking the table-hear the evening arrival of the mails has hurt the revenue-no time now to sit after dinner-dreadful job to answer letters in the evening-a man can't have his head full, both of punch and pullicates

have heard it whispered, it is all a plot of the saints with ministry to break up convivial parties-don't like these people-perfect Marplots-feel heavy-but mustn't forget club-hour.

Seven o'clock.-Have a notion I've been sleeping-wig all awry-suspect that last tumbler was stiffish-won't have the lantern, but may need it when I come home.-Must be off to the "What you please."+-Can't find my blotsheet.-Put out the candle, Kirstie-and come for me at ten o'clock.