"When she was assailed by the Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, we enjoyed uninterrupted tranquillity. What has since befallen us, perhaps, was inevitable. The new-fledged eagle, which is led by its dam to her own lofty regions of glory, must expect to have its wing tired with the flight, and its eye dazzled with the splendour of the meridian sun."

This language would have been too poetical for an English coach; but an Irish one is different; my sentiments excited wonder, but their clothing excited none. The native Irish are a nation of poets, and therefore, I fear, doomed to be an unhappy nation-for no matter what may be its occasional levity, the essence of a poetic mind ever was and ever will be gloom.

We changed horses at Dundalk. I stepped into Lord Roden's gardens, which join the town. I had been in them several years before. They belonged then to the late Earl of Clanbrassilhis Lordship was a great botanist, and spared no labour or expense in collecting rare and exotic plants. His gardens, therefore, were among the finest in these kingdoms, and strangers came to see them from the most distant parts. The day I visited them, I had the honour of his Lordship's company. He was a highly-dignified gentleman. Though he was most minute in his communications, he never forgot that he was a nobleman;

and it might be said of him, as of Virgil, that he even tossed the dung about him with dignity. As I was then unacquainted with botany, I was apprehensive I should betray my ignorance, and ruin myself in his Lordship's opinion. Luckily, however, the vanity of a botanist is fully as nearsighted as that of an author; and I passed through my four hours' ordeal with as much success as the courtiers Chrisel and Zoram did that of the genius Phanor, when he insisted on their hearing him read his play in the palace of truth.

The gardens at present seem almost entirely neglected. For some time after leaving Dundalk, we got along very happily; but, on descending with more haste than good speed, a steep hill that overhangs the little town of Jonesborough, the calamity we had so much dreaded in the morning, took place. The wheel broke, and we were fairly overset in a ditch. The shock was violent, and for an instant I gave myself up for lost. Yet there was little injury, and in a few moments we were able to proceed on our journey on foot.

The evening was delightful, and the deep repose of the valley, through which we walked, afforded a sweet and soothing contrast to the rugged mountain landscape which bounded our horizon.

"Is'nt this better," said one of the party, party, "than to be smothered alive in that crazy old coach ?" "Smothered dead, I think it should be," ex claimed the young Englishman, with a laugh.

This led to a wrangling kind of argument which carried us on to Newry. I stopped at an inn, called the White Cross kept by a woman of the name of Mackintosh, called, by a barbarous contraction, Tosh. It was not the house where the coach stopped; but the young man abovementioned promised me, on the authority of information obtained in Dublin, a good dinner and excellent accommodation. The good opinion of Mrs. Tosh's accommodation must have been general, as the house was crowded with company. The consequence of which was, that every thing was in confusion, which our impatience did not lessen. At nine at night dinner is necessary, and bells were ringing, and oaths swearing innumerable. I suspect my guide, who probably in England was accustomed to a two o'clock dinner, began to think he had bestowed his praise too freely. Dinner, however, was at length served. The bill was six shillings, including ale, and six shillings for a bottle of wine. Wine is as much dearer as it is worse since I was last in Ireland. From the satisfaction expressed in the countenance of some gentlemen who were drinking punch, at hearing us complain of its badness, I suspect they

considered us as coxcombs for having ordered it; and when I cast my eyes on the group of beggars that surrounded the windows, and considered how happy the shillings thrown away on this execrable liquor would have made them, I confess I was of the same opinion.

A man who travels in Ireland should, above all things, arm himself with good humour. He must reconcile himself, during the day, to manners more plain and familiar, than refined or considerate-nor can he always escape from them at night. There are generally two beds in a room. I was shewn into one where there were three, and, not as a special favour, was put in a press one. I had lain down about an hour, when my two colleagues came in whistling and singing. Whiskey sometimes makes men musical, and always makes them noisy. Those two continued conversing a long time after they had lain down. I kept quiet, though many of the speeches were directed "Our friend in the press bed," at length said one of them, " is strangely silent." "At one in the morning, and in bed, silence is not so extraordináry,” said I, perceiving that those drunken young gentlemen, like the sober old English law, were determined to press me to speak. I was awaked at an early hour by the bustle of the people preparing to go with the coaches. They were laughing, conversing, and scolding, with apparent

at me.

forgetfulness of any one being in bed near them. They "murdered sleep" as effectually asa guilty conscience could have done. I therefore got up and walked quietly away, perfectly sensible, that in no country in the universe, is an humble pedestrian of much consideration with chambermaids or waiters.

I walked about the town until the shops were opened. I then waited on a respectable merchant, who invited me to breakfast, and insisted on my passing a few days at his house. It is there I write this chapter, which I cannot conclude without remarking, that it would be unfair to judge the Irish character by what we see at inns. The people most frequently met with at them, are young men just escaped from control, who think noise and impudence proofs of courage, and knowledge of life. The greatest and most valuable part of the community live at home, and are seen to most advantage in their own houses. It is there I like to see them; and though sometimes I may have experienced slight inconveniences, rarely ever was I in an Irish private house that I did not feel myself at home.