ing his straw or tarpaulin hat, with a
slap on the crown, on one side of his head, and staggering and swaying
about under the influence of the potfen, and slapping his thigh, as he
bent double, laughing like to split himself, till the water ran over
his cheeks from his drunken half-shut eyes, while jets of tobacco-juice
were squirting in all directions.

I paid the reckoning, urging the party to proceed all the while, and
indicating Pat Doolan's at the Cove as a good rendezvous; and,
promising to overtake them before they reached Passage, I parted
company at the corner of the street, and rejoined the lieutenant.

Next morning we spent in looking about the town--Cork is a fine
town--contains seventy thousand inhabitants _more_ or _less_--safe in
that--and three hundred thousand pigs, driven by herdsmen, with coarse
grey greatcoats. The pigs are not so handsome as those in England,
where the legs are short, and tails curly; here the legs are long, the
flanks sharp and thin, and tails long and straight.

All classes speak with a deuced brogue, and worship graven images;
arrived at Cove to a late dinner--and here follows a great deal of
nonsense of the same kind.

By the time it was half-past ten o'clock, I was preparing to turn in,
when the master at arms called down to me,--

"Mr. Cringle, you are wanted in the gunroom."

I put on my jacket again, and immediately proceeded thither, and on my
way I noticed a group of seamen, standing on the starboard gangway,
dressed in pea-jackets, under which, by the light of a lantern, carried
by one of them, I could see they were all armed with pistols and
cutlass. They appeared in great glee, and as they made way for me, I
could hear one fellow whisper, "There goes the little beagle." When I
entered the gunroom, the first lieutenant, master, and purser, were
sitting smoking and enjoying themselves over a glass of cold grog--the
gunner taking the watch on deck--the doctor was piping anything but
mellifluously on the double flagolet, while the Spanish priest, and
aide-de-camp to the general, were playing at chess, and wrangling in
bad French. I could hear Mr. Treenail rumbling and stumbling in his
stateroom, as he accoutred himself in a jacket similar to those of the
armed boat's crew whom I had passed, and presently he stepped into the
gunroom, armed also with cutlass and pistol.

"Mr. Cringle, get ready to go in the boat with me, and bring your arms
with you."

I now kne