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Impossible! unless some Sultan Mahmoud, of devastating propensities, would altogether qualify it to dower some portionless screechowls.

Let no reader here imagine, that I make these observations, as in any way contemning trade and its followers. Far be it from me. I myself am a member of one of the humblest classes of society, and would not, therefore, despise any individual of the community. I have passed through life, (praise be to God,) without even an attempt having been made to subject me to the pains and penalties of knighthood. I have, furthermore, cause to be thankful, for (although I do not wish to vaunt me of my good fortune,) I never was appellated Esquire but once, and that by the mistake of a Methodist preacher, persuaded by a wag, to apply to me on a begging occasion, as a well-known contributor to Gospel ministers and conventicles. For this good luck, I suppose myself indebted to my youthful days being gone by, before the Esquire epidemic had broken out with its present violence. Last Saturday, as I strolled along the banks

of the royal canal, I picked up a letter with a barbarous superscription, purporting to direct the enclosure, "To Fill Ruggins, Esquare, No. 2, Cross Poddle." Ah! I understand it. Some young spendthrift on his keeping. I will deliver it myself. I made out Phil Ruggins, Esq., forthwith, at his residence, 2, Cross Poddle; and, by Heaven! he was a journeyman bobbin-weaver. But what has Phil Ruggins to say to this story?

I was, I remember, speaking of Dublin Castle; and, like the etiquette of the said castle, one story shall introduce another, and, therefore, one anecdote more of myself, (I am a little egotistical to-day). Many a time, with a lady on either arm, Mrs. Timothy Flin, of the Weaver's-square, and Mrs. Peter Dunlavy, of Mark's-alley, have I left the liberty in the evening, to view the grandees, as they went in state to the drawing-room. Corkhill was our favourite station, and there, among apprentices, mantua-makers, and ladies' waiting-women, known to the mob by the familiar title of "kitchen stuff," have we gazed with admiration, on the showy equi

pages, at one moment at a dead stand, and at the next, with rapid motion jerking themselves into the vacancy occasioned by the last setdown. Nor were we permitted to look on with impunity. Pickpockets were on the alert, while, now and again, a grenadier, with a charged bayonet, and "Stand back, blast yees," made an awful irruption into our terrorstruck squares. Last week I read among the list of presentations, the names of Mrs. Henry Rourke, and Mrs. T. P. Reilly. Often have they gazed from these arms, till

they ached,

on passing peers and peeresses. The former was Julia Dunlary: the latter, Matilda Henrietta Flin.

Will another story be tolerated? I hate apologies, so I shall give it without any. I wanted stockings, (by, the by, my washerwoman accuses me of great severity on the heel,) and had recourse to an eminent hosier's to refit. It was dusk, and all the neighbouring shops were closing. I hate haggling with a shop-keeper: the bargain was soon concluded, the stockings in paper, and my one

pound-note undergoing a severe scrutiny on

the counter.

"Mat!" cried a shrill voice

from the farther end of the shop. Matthew started. "Mat, my dear!" Matthew be

came more composed.

"Send James to the

row for our carriage,-Sir Thomas's coach is at the door, and his shutters on this half hour,-don't mind the pickle people, -ever since his wife was persented, she makes it a rule to be an hour later than the world. Ah, Mat! if you took the right side in the hall, I would have been interduced long ago." The truth is, Mat is a common council-man, but having a bad drop in him, (his grandmother was a papist,) he did not roar, with the remainder, against the Roman bill,-and I can assure the hosier's lady, that she will never, in the drawing-room of Dublin Castle, elbow Mrs. Nelligan, of the pickle warehouse, unless the aforesaid Mat entertains more orthodox sentiments of the damnable doctrines of Pope and Popery!

CHAPTER VIII.

That Lord Fitzwilliam's viceroyalty would have banished all discontent I cannot suppose; but, that if the Catholic claims had been settled, or some parliamentary reform taken place, rebellion would not have reared its head, I am willing to believe.

Hardy's Life of Charlemont.

RETIRED from the busier scenes of former life, O'Hara watched in its progress the arduous struggle for freedom beyond the Atlantic, until the consummation of the hopes and independence of America was achieved by those whom oppression had determined to be free. The insane policy of ministers was persevered in till all their misconduct could effect was completed; they severed the colonies from the parentraised a mighty power into political existence, which, had common moderation been granted to their supplication, would have been contented to have remained auxiliary and dependent,-and

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