has idle fellows enough, his manufacturers have nothing to do; beat up for recruits on O'Blun der's farm, his spalpeens are only fit to be food for powder.

"But what provokes me most, is your treatment of my sister Granua, a young woman who was a match for any prince in Christendom-when a mere child you forced her to marry you, and how have you treated her-you have spoiled her growth, given her disorders, that I fear will shorten her days; you lock her up, and starve her, while you are swaggering about, bragging of your exploits in boxing and beating, and when you get a broken head for your sauciness from your neighbours, home you come ranting and vapouring, and beat and strip poor Granua in revenge. But what is worse than all, you pretend, like a base man as you are, that she has gone mad-and that there is no other cure for her, than the actual cautery, the strait waistcoat, bleeding in the jugulars, and sending her to the salt water-whether any human constitution can stand all this, I leave to the impartial world-but we deserve this usage for our folly--we thought to get good terms by flattering and coaxing you, and filling your pockets with money and that would have answered, no doubt, if you had a grain of generosity in your carcase; but, alas! the

only argument you mind is shillelah, and the only law you regard is club-law.

you

"God knows how I have been involved in my circumstances, by joining you in all your law-suits —your litigious temper would never allow you to be at peace with your neighbours, and rather than be without a law-suit, you brought an action against farmer Yankey, your own tenant, because he would not bring all his grist to your mill. Well, what did you get by that, John ?-it turned out that had a bad title to the estate, and you were cast on a hearing.-Oh Lord! oh Lord! it makes my hair stand on end to think what bills of cost you have paid-and a swinging share of all has fallen on poor-poor Paddy-but, naboklish, the worst is behind, and the memory of what is to come will inake us forget the memory of what is past-you must needs quarrel, like a conceited numskull as you are, with your next door neigh bour, Mr. Guillotine, the French dancing-master, because, forsooth, he presumed to cook his victuals his own way and so you attempted to trip up his heels and so he has taken the law of youthis suit is not over you have hitherto had the worst of it-still, you try to banish thought, and divert yourself with your pack of water-dogs, and your ther hounds, and your duck hunts-but, mark ards, it is a long lane that knows no turning es are drawing nigh-the trial must

my w

the assia

1

come on-how are you prepared to see the lawyers?

"You may talk of my blunders, Mr. Bull-but look at home; are you not a stupid dolt? the dupe and the cully of every quack doctor, swindling alchemist,and hungry projector?-are you not per petually the dupe of your own avarice, ambition, and rapacity ?--what sums have you lavished on Mr. Von-eitherside, the Prussian sleight-of-hand man, for the purpose of setting up a Pharo-bank, and playing at pushpin and teetotum, on a flim flam promise of lining your pockets with French crowns-and how did he serve you ?-he shewed all his best tricks to your opponents, while your money went over to him, by barrels at a timeand you were absolutely brought on the parish.How many heavy guineas have you lavished on your neighbour the German horse-rider, who undertook to cure you of the shaking ague, and the falling sickness, by a course of gunpowder and tincture of steel?

Ohone, ohone! you call me a blunderer. The greatest blunder I ever committed, was the having any thing to say to you-except it was the calling myself a freeman. Ohone! Irish freedom is Ægyptian bondage, honey. You talk of sending the Scotch and Welsh to flea me, and make drums of my skin, and then beat a charge upon them against French democrats

-but, hark in your ear, the Scots and Welsh may not be always in the same mind. The Scots have heard of a place called Tranentand the Welsh may call to mind, how Edward, one of your kings, murdered all their bards, that they might not have a song, or tune on the harp, to cheer them in their misery. You talk of sending Jews, and all the tribes of Gergashiteswhy you have sent them already, John-they have overspread the land, like locusts-our public offices are full of them-they sit on the treasury bench, the bench of bishops, and all our benches. The Jews, I have been told, are great dealers in old clothes-they would be the cheapest for my money-for we have many turn-coats in Ireland-but if an host of Jews were to come amongst us, they could not use us worse than our Christian brethren-nay, they might sympathize in our sufferings, recollecting something of what their own nation endured in Ægypt. At any rate, friend John, you have qualified us to fraternize with the Jewish tribes-you have circumcised, and exercised us too, with a vengeance.

"You advise me to call to mind past occurrences -give me something to remember you bycall to mind, aye, that I must, Mr. Bull-you have left your marks in plenty of cuts and scars, and bumps, on my poor carcase. You bid me eat my potatoes in quiet-I wish you had left me a little grain of salt to them.

"Remember you, Mr. Bull! Oh that I may never forget you. These seven hundred long years, I may say, have I been serving my apprenticeship to you, and I have not yet learned to set up for myself. I wish to God you would either take me into partnership, or give me up my indentures, and that you would treat Granua properly, or be divorced from her. We have never known luck nor grace, since we had dealings with you. Mr. Bull is too great a manno fit connexion for us. Many and many an honest fellow has been ruined, and brought to a morsel of bread, by pretending to associate, and claim kindred, and keep company, with those above him. He's like a little cock-boat holding by the painter, and trying to keep close to a big ship in a storm.

"I tell you what-the very best thing for poor Paddy would be, to make a child's bargain with the great Mr. Bull; let me alone, and I'll let you alone. I make a proposal, John, I make it with all the veins of my heart-the time may come, when you shall be brought to agree to it-let us be civil strangers for the future, and that is the way to make us good friends."