"O, I've not heard that story. Pray tell it to me, Corney."

CORNEY. 66 Well, yer honor, Mick was called 'Barrileah,' because he made a barrel of himsilf in regard to the dhrink; an' on a fairday at Spancil Hill, Mick coaxed his brother to let him go with him. He hadn't a copper in his pocket, to be sure, but he'd run chance,' any how; so he wandered about scratching his head till he got a glass of whiskey from a frind, that made his throat ache for more. So what did he do, but goes to his brother and begged the loan of the fine new frieze riding-coat he had, which he knew well enough would hide his own ragged coatee. His own hat bein' purty dacent, and his shoes an' stockings; the next thing was to borry a small book, and pin, an' ink-bottle from a kind-hearted landlady, and then in he went into the fair, lookin' mighty knowin' an' clever, like a jobber, an' so slap in into the thick of the farmers an' their pigs. God save ye, gintlemen,' ses Mick; 'did ye sell?' ses he.-' Musha! no 'ndeed, we did not,' ses one. 'I'm comin' here this forty year wid my pigs, an I never seen the like of this of a dull fair. There's nothin' doing, good or bad, in it,' ses he; an' all sed, 'that's thrue.'—'Well, now,' ses Mick, I'm a kimmishner of pigs from Limerick, jist aff the coach,' ses he, an' must do a great deal of business for the conthracthurs in a little time,' ses he; so I'll jist give you a thrial,' ses he. And what 'll you take for that one? ses he. Two pounds ten shillings,' ses the man. Mick knuckled the pig mighty clever an’ knowin. 'Ah, that's too much; but it's gettin' late-I'll be even wid you at a word.'-'How much?'-Two pounds five shillings.' -Well, I'll be long sorry to stand huckstherin' wid the likes o' you, so have her.' Mick marked the pig, an' out with his book and pen. 'What's yer name?'-' Paddy Gorman.' Enthered white pig, red x, Paddy Gorman, two pounds five shillings.' 'Come, come, now, yer sowl,' says Mick, let's come into this tint. Who ever h'ard of a dhry baargin? Here, landlady, get this gintleman an' me a half pint of the right stuff.' Mick put his hand in his pocket, as if to pay. O no, by no manes,' says Mr. Gorman; I'll pay.' Well, have it so,' says Mick; but take the sixpence out of the money when I'm paying you; an' mind, Mr. Gorman, be at this very tint in two hours, an' I'll pay all at wanst,' ses he, for I am very exact,' ses he. So Mick went away agin, an' the man praising him up to the skies as a mighty dacent honorable kimmishner; and Mick having struck out his plans so well, wint on till he bought eleven more pigs, wetting every bargin, till the two hours wor up, an' the poor farmers kem for ther money, whin there they found Mr. Hourigan stretched on the broad of his back on the flure, an' he bhlind dhrunk, without motion. An' so whin night kem on, what could they do, the crathurs, but lose their sixpence a-piece, an' dhrive their pigs back home agen!"

6

"Oh! that's the very man," I said. "And has he really been to Father Mathew?"

"Yes, indeed, your honour, he wint; for his frinds persuaded him to it, an' agreed he should drink all the ways to Cork, if he 'd go, an' that's what tuk him, yer honor. But if it did, he wint back o' the pledge, and mad he grew, and got a turr❜ble twisht av his head, an' he beginnin' to ate his own shoulders-the Lord be praised! So they tied him on a car this next turn, an' tuk him to Father Matchew for another offer; an' the moment Mick saw his rivirince, he began

to tremble an' shake, an' down on his knees he wint, an' tuk the pledge agen; an' ses he, 'Oh! plase yer rivirince,' ses he, may be I'd be going asthray agen,' ses he. Do you think so?' ses Father Matchew. I'll be bail for you this time,' ses he. So wi' that he tuck a good hoult of his head betune his two hands, an' if he did, he gev it the raal squeedje; and when this was done three times, Mick was better than ever he was in his life, an' would rather take the dirty ditch-wather now than fine ould Dublin; an' he's getting mighty shnug, an' goin' to be married to a fine girl of the Moylans, with ten acres an' thirty pounds!

"But the divil so bothered a fellow yer honor ever heerd of as Sergeant O'Callaghan. Did yer honor go to Tralee this year?

"Yes. I was at Tralee not long since; and a nice thriving town it is, with temperance rooms, and everything very comfortable. But what of Tralee, and Sergeant O'Callaghan, Corney?"

"Oh, not a great deal, yer honor. But did yer honor take notice of the sergeant, -he that's gettin' so many recruits for the arthil

lery?"

"Oh yes; I think I remember him,―a very tall muscular man,— a fine handsome-looking fellow."

"The very same, yer honor,-an' carries a beautiful swoord, an' a matther o' beyant fifty yards of ribands flying away ten yards behind him when he's marchin' agen the wind, an' he six foot two and a half inches high in his shtockin' vamps."

"Ay, exactly, - that's the same man.

No one could be an hour in Tralee an' not see him. But what of him, Corney? Do tell us." CORNEY. "Sure, yer honor, he's a timprance man!"

"Impossible! How could a recruiting sergeant be a tee-totaller? The thing seems out of the question. He ought rather to be a twenty-tumbler man."

6

CORNEY. "That's thrue, yer honor- one might think so, certainly; but divil a word o' lie in it. Sergeant O'Callaghan is a teetotaller,―an' I'll tell yer honor all about it. You see, sir, the sergeant has got more recruits than any other man, and marched twelve fine boys from the Reeks' into Cork, to be drafted on boord a 'thranshpoort' for the Ingees; an' so, yer honor, they had a merry march of it, an' dhrank plinty o' whishkey. But some of the recruits were sinsible lads, an' persuaded the rest to take the plidge; for ses one of them, Boys,' ses he, we're goin' to the Ingees,' ses he, 'an' I've heerd say it's a very hot place,' ses he, an' burnin' an' scorchin' without the sperrets,' ses he; and so,' ses he, if yer all of one mind, ye 'll come to Father Matchew, an' thin we'll be able for the Ingees,' ses he, an' keep ourselves cool there,' ses he. So they all agreed to take the plidge, but should first ask lave of the sergeant, an' he so fair a man to dale with, that he didn't object in the laste, but said he was very glad of it, an' would go with 'em, an' show 'em the way; an' so whin the sergeant marched up wid his twelve men, there was Father Matchew sure enough standin' in the dure, an' maybe Sergeant O'Callaghan wasn't the very man would give him the fine salute, an' he, bowin' low to his rivirince, explained that these men of his wor goin' to fight for her Majesty in the Ingees, an' wishing to resave the plidge from his rivirince, he'd done himself the honor to march them up. An' so ses his rivirince to Sergeant O'Callaghan, May be, sir, you'll join yer men, an' take

the plidge yersilf, sergeant?' ses he, which can be done at the same time,' ses he, 'an' no throuble in life,' ses he. An' so, yer honor, the poor sergeant hardly knew what to say to Father Matchew, but began to tell him it wouldn't quite shute his business, by rason the young recruits wor mighty aygar afther the punch entirely, an' so he was affear'd he must decline the honor; for if he didn't dhrink purty hearty an' free wid 'em, the divil a sowl would he be apt to get, an' so his thrade would be all quinched at wanst wid the water. Oh, jist as you plase,' ses Father Matchew, quite aisy an' unconcerned ; 'stand a one side so, sergeant,' ses he. 'An' now, boys, down on yer knees, and repeat the plidge. I promise,'-' I promise,'-an' so on, as yer honor knows; an' away they wint with their cards an' medals, an' a blessing for the voy'ge; that was worth any money. But now, the Lord preserve us! see what happened to Sergeant O'Callaghan! Well, yer honor, he had never heerd the words of the plidge till that blessed day; an' though he didn't say one word out loud, so as to be heerd beyant the slightest taste of a whisper, still his lips 'ud be movin' and follyin' on wid the men's answers, jist as yer honor would tap a little wid yer fingers, an' me playing the pipes; but he thought nothing of it, only gloried not takin' the plidge, that would have made him, as himsilf said, only fit for the wather-gaards. So ses he, 'Well, boys, I'm sorry we dhrink no more together,' ses he; but here, landlord! quick wid a tumbler an' matariels, till I dhrink ther healths.' So down he sot, an' a fine hot tumbler of punch before him, an' he pulling off his cap an' feather, an' ribbons, an' one of his fine white gloves, an' shmellin' to it all the time, and then ses the sergeant, ses he, 'O boys, ye don't know what ye've denied yerselves av; for the very shmell of this fine warm punch bates the roses and lilies through the world. So here's to ye, my lads, an' may I live to see ye all come back commissioned officers!' ses he. An' wid that he put out his two grand legs, to show the fine calves he had on them; an' be the same token, his fist was aqual to half a calf's head for size, an' he takin a grip at the tumbler. But, the Lord save us! not wan bit av it could he move aff the table! There it stud, as if a tinpenny nail was driv through it. The big sergeant got red in the face, an' thried, an' thried, pullin' away at it as hard as he could; but all wouldn't do! Divil a one inch it would move! 'I'm bate out,' ses he.. Faix, y'are so,' ses the boys; 'for you couldn't keep yer two lips quite, an' they movin', an' we rapatin' the plidge. Be me sowkins, that's it!' ses the sergeant. I see it all now,' ses he; an' there's no use shtrugglin' with Father Matchew,' ses he. Be the powers of Moll Kelly, it's over wid me!' ses Sergeant O'Callaghan, av the arthillery."

་

JOURNAL OF OLD BARNES, THE PANTALOON,

ON A TRIP TO PARIS IN 1830.

"AFTER the scrutiny by the douaniers, we made the best of our way to the Hôtel de Lisle, to which our director had desired us to go. Remarked hastily the difference between the streets of Paris and my own beloved London, where, by the by, I made my first appearance at Bartholomew Fair. I am not ashamed to own it. Many others, who have prospered much more than I have, began there. There were *** ****No, d-n it!-I am only an old pantomimer, whom anybody may laugh at, and nobody cares for. Some of my contemporaries are now in possession of good homes, and mix in genteel society. Mind, they did not tumble head over heels as I did. Old Richardson was my manager. My first good engagement in London was at the Lyceum theatre, when the Drury Lane Company acted there, after the destruction of Mr. Sheridan's splendid edifice, in February 1809. Christmas 1810, I was the Pantaloon in the pantomime of the White Cat;' and an excellent pantomime it was. Mr. Arnold was the manager, and he did a clever thing. Generally, the night before the Christmas eve is considered a bad theatrical night; you cannot depend on a good house. Mr. Arnold produced the White Cat' on that evening, and called it 'A Night Rehearsal to the Public.' This drew an immense second price (and that little old dog-hole of a theatre held three hundred pounds); and the pantomime going with perfect success, the manager got the descriptions and critiques of it in all the newspapers of an intervening Sunday, which happened to fall on Christmas day. The success of the White Cat' (and I suppose they liked their Pantaloon) procured me London engagements until the year 1834. I think the 'White Cat' was performed nearly sixty nights in the first season.

6

"After we had refreshed ourselves with soap and water, and brandy and water, we promenaded into the Palais Royal. Our sandy-haired tourist joined us at the same hotel, and in our walk. Nobody asked him, but he came. He had not the slightest idea that I was an actor. If he had been apprised of that fact, he would, from his peculiar religious notions, have avoided me as a pestilence.

"We were all delighted with the fairy-land scene that was presented to our eyesight by the brilliancy of the shops in the Palais Royal. Seymour extolled them as perfectly 'plummy and slam.' The ladies had never seen anything by any manner of means anywhere (and would call anybody as witnesses) half so charming and interesting.

"Our tourist remarked, that it was the Temple of Babylon, and filled with scarlet females: it was all heathenish and demoralising. "Swarms of company, all sorts, ranks, sizes, shapes, ages, and nations, no two human beings alike; and there never were, until the Siamese twins were exhibited, with their little battledores and shuttlecocks: they were exactly alike-I saw them.

"If you wish to see the Palais Royal to advantage, enter it at the passage from the Rue Vivienne; thence the brilliancy is more apparent. Try it on a moonlight night, and the light and shade is new and startling. My old kind friends (God bless them!) the Messrs. Grieve, the scenic artists of Covent Garden and Drury Lane theatres, are precisely the men to catch and depict such an effect. Then the

gay shops for everything, the jewellers, clock-makers, the hattery, hosiery, stickery, stockery, perfumery, bootery, wiggery, the printsellers, the cafes, the estaminets (N.B. Bad Baccy !) told that the commodity was a Government monopoly. Could immediately understand why the tobacco was of an inferior quality. Then the eatables and drinkables!-Lord! it did your appetite good only to look at them!-the dindon aux truffes, which means turkey cut up, and stuffed with smallpieces of India rubber. I did not touch it, on account of the latter material. Don't catch me munching catchouch. Have to poke it down, perhaps, with a black-lead pencil!

Then there were the theatres in the Palais Royal, and the concerts, and the puppet-shows. In one of the latter I saw Mr. Punch, three times the size that he is ever exhibited in London, behave infamously to his wife, slapping her in the most indecorous manner; ay, and fifty females in the salon stood by enjoying it, but not one Englishwoman. Mark that, for the honour of my country! Then you may enter a splendid café, with a half hundred marble tables in it, superb-looking glasses on the walls, every appurtenance and impertinence in the most expensive style; yet the proprietor, civil to his visiters, does not object to two of them playing twenty games of dominoes for the stake of two glasses of 'eau sucré. Perceiving the interest this beverage excited, and the play and skill depending on it, though I never would encourage gaming, I ordered some 'eau sucré. When it came, and I tasted it-Lord! where were their palates?

"Is not it strange that travelling only 150 miles, there should be such a vast difference in tastes in human beings? I could not touch their insipid drink, and they had positively endured the trouble of twenty games of dominoes for it!

"Returned to the Hôtel de Lisle, having partaken of some wine and eau de veau, as Ronaldson (the old calf!) would still call it. Went to bed, thought of home and Old England, Poor dear Mary, Tom Ellar, Paulo, and of Mr. Bradwell and his mechanical changes. Ruminated, -that is, ' chewed the cud' of reflection, until I went to sleep.

Up betimes. I am like the late Mr. Simmons; I never can lie long in bed. Roused the rest of our party, and out to breakfast-very un-English. An Englishman likes his breakfast at home-the very paying for it strikes you. Columbine's mamma said the green tea tasted of copperas (why did not she take coffee, the old fool!); and when I mentioned that the white sugar was possibly made of beet-root, she avowed that she tasted the salad in it. - MEM. Poor thing's stomach out of order already. I was sure of it; for she left her egg for any one else to foster like a cuckoo. Harlequin ate it (the Jew Frenchman), and would have swallowed anything. He drove me wild by seeing him devour a nearly-raw beefsteak, cut very thick, which reminded me forcibly of a pound of Antonio's flesh, nearest his heart.' I really was compelled to call for a little brandy, and a little more after that, to compose my nerves. How can people be so filthy in their appetites?

"Noticed a much cheaper and better display of the theatre play-bills than in London. There are certain stations on columns or buildings, in various parts of Paris, on which the bills of all the theatres are posted daily, and where the public regularly look for them. Should there be no performance at night, the word RELACHE is in a large type, conspicuous on the bill. This sometimes appears, on two or