little we'd care for the tithes or repale;
For ould Erin would be a fine country to live in,
If we only had plenty like LARRY M'HALE.

"Very singular style of person your friend Mr. M'Hale," lisped a
spooney-looking cornet at the end of the table.

"Not in the country he belongs to, I assure you," said Maurice; "but I
presume you were never in Ireland."

"You are mistaken there," resumed the other; "I was in Ireland, though I
confess not for a long time."

"If I might be so bold," cried Maurice, "how long?"

"Half an hour, by a stop-watch," said the other, pulling up his stock; "and
I had quite enough of it in that time."

"Pray give us your experiences," cried out Bob Mahon; "they should be
interesting, considering your opportunities."

"You are right," said the cornet; "they were so; and as they illustrate a
feature in your amiable country, you shall have them."

A general knocking upon the table announced the impatience of the company,
and when silence was restored the cornet began:--

When the 'Bermuda' transport sailed from Portsmouth for Lisbon, I happened
to make one of some four hundred interesting individuals who, before they
became food for powder, were destined to try their constitutions on pickled
pork. The second day after our sailing, the winds became adverse; it blew
a hurricane from every corner of the compass but the one it ought, and the
good ship, that should have been standing straight for the Bay of Biscay,
was scudding away under a double-reefed topsail towards the coast of
Labrador. For six days we experienced every sea-manoeuvre that usually
preludes a shipwreck, and at length, when, what from sea-sickness and fear,
we had become utterly indifferent to the result, the storm abated, the sea
went down, and we found ourselves lying comfortably in the harbor of Cork,
with a strange suspicion on our minds that the frightful scenes of the past
week had been nothing but a dream.

"'Come, Mr. Medlicot,' said the skipper to me, 'we shall be here for a
couple of days to refit; had you not better go ashore and see the country?'

"I sprang to my legs with delight; visions of cowslips, larks, daisies, and
mutton-chops floated before my excited imagination, and in ten minutes I
found myself standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove which, opposite
Spike Island, rejoices in the name of the 'Goat and Garters.'

"'Breakfast, waiter,' said I; 'a beefsteak,--fresh beef, mark ye,--fresh
eggs