s, chemists, and anatomists--deep in every art, learned in every
science--mankind is to them an open book, which they read at will, and
con over at leisure--happy country, where we have you in abundance,
and where your talents are so available, that they can be had for
asking.

[Illustration]

A NUT FOR THE IRISH.

AN IRISH ENCORE.

[Illustration]

We certainly are a very original people, and contrive to do everything
after a way of our own! Not content with cementing our friendships by
fighting, and making the death of a relative the occasion of a merry
evening, we even convert the habits we borrow from other lands into
something essentially different from their original intention, and
infuse into them a spirit quite national.

The echo which, when asked "How d'ye do, Paddy Blake?" replied,
"Mighty well, thank you," could only have been an Irish echo. Any
other country would have sulkily responded, "Blake--ake--ake--ake," in
_diminuendo_ to the end of the chapter. But there is a courtesy, an
attention, a native politeness on our side of the channel, it is in
vain to seek elsewhere. A very strong instance in point occurs in a
morning paper before me, and one so delightfully characteristic of our
habits and customs, it would be unpardonable to pass it without
commemoration. At an evening concert at the Rotundo, we are informed
that Mr. Knight--I believe his name is--enchanted his audience by the
charming manner he sung "Molly Astore." Three distinct rounds of
applause followed, and an encore that actually shook the building, and
may--though we are not informed of the circumstance--have produced
very remarkable effects in the adjacent institution; upon which Mr.
Knight, with his habitual courtesy, came forward and sang--what, think
ye, good reader? Of course you will say, "Molly Astore," the song he
was encored for. Alas! for your ignorance;--that might do very well in
Liverpool or Manchester, at Bath, Bristol, or Birmingham--the poor
benighted Saxons there might like to get what they asked so eagerly
for; but we are men of very different mould, and not accustomed to the
jog-trot subserviency of such common-sense notions; and accordingly,
Mr. Knight sang "The Soldier Tired"--a piece of politeness on his part
that actually convulsed the house with acclamations; and so on to the
end of the entertainment, "the gentleman, when encored, invariably
sang a new song"--I quote the paper _verbatim_--"which testimony