e misery-mongers had had their day. The world was somewhat
weary of Landlordism, Pauperism, and Protestantism, and all the other
"isms" of that unhappy country.

There was nothing that had not been said over the overgrown Church
establishment, the devouring Middleman, Cottier misery, and Celtic
barbarism; people grew weary of hearing about a nation so endowed with
capabilities, and which yet did nothing, and rather than puzzle their
heads any further, they voted Ireland a "bore." It was just then that
"this inspired Cockney" determined to try a new phase of the subject,
and this was not to counsel nor console, not to lament over nor bewail
our varied mass of errors and misfortunes, but to laugh at us. To hunt
out as many incongruities--many real enough, some fictitious--as he
could find; to unveil all that he could discover of social anomaly; and,
without any reference to, or any knowledge of, the people, to bring them
up for judgment before his less volatile and more happily circumstanced
countrymen, certain of the verdict he sought for--a hearty laugh. His
mission was to make "Punch" out of Ireland, and none more capable than
he for the office.

A word of Mr. Howie in the flesh, and we have done. He was large and
heavily built, but neither muscular nor athletic; his frame and all his
gestures indicated weakness and uncertainty. His head was capacious, but
not remarkable for what phrenologists call moral development; while
the sinister expression of his eyes--half submissive, half
satirical--suggested doubts of his sincerity. There was nothing honest
about him but his mouth; this was large, full, thick-lipped, and
sensual,--the mouth of one who loved to dine well, and yet felt that
his agreeability was an ample receipt in full for the best entertainment
that ever graced Black wall or the "Freres."

It is a heavy infliction that we story-tellers are compelled to lay
upon our readers and ourselves, thus to interrupt our narrative by a
lengthened description of a character not essentially belonging to our
story; we had rather, far rather, been enabled to imitate Mrs. White, as
she advanced into the circle in the drawing-room, saying, "Mr. Cashel,
allow me to present to your favorable notice my distinguished friend,
Mr. Howie. Lady Janet MacFarline, Mr. Howie,--" sotto,--"the author of
'Snooks in the Holy Land,' the wittiest thing of the day; Sir Andrew
will be delighted with him--has been all over the scenes of the
Pen