ful chemist who would attempt the analysis of our
complex nature; but far greater and more gifted must he be, who, from
any consideration of the elements, would venture to pronounce on the
probable results of their action and re-action, and declare what we
shall be some twenty years hence.

Oh, for a good Irish "Rip van Winkle," who would at least let us look
on the two pictures--what we were, and what we are. He should be a
Clare man--none others have the same shrewd insight into character,
the same intuitive knowledge of life; none others detect, like them,
the flaws and fractures in human nature. There may be more
mathematical genius in Cork, and more classic lore in Kerry; there may
be, I know there is, a more astute and patient pains-taking spirit of
calculation in the northern counties; but for the man who is only to
have one rapid glance at the game, and say how it fares--to throw a
quick _coup-d'oeil_ on the board, and declare the winner, Clare for
ever!

Were I a lawgiver, I would admit any attorney to practise who should
produce sufficient evidence of his having served half the usual time
of apprenticeship in Ennis. The Pontine marshes are not so prolific of
fever, as the air of that country of ready-witted intelligence and
smartness; and now, ere I return from my digression, let me solemnly
declare, that, for the opinion here expressed, I have not received any
money or moneys, nor do I expect to receive such, or any place,
pension, or other reward, from Tom Steele or any one else concerned.

Well, we have not got this same western "Rip van Winkle," nor do I
think we are likely to do so, for this simple reason, that if he were
a Clare man, he'd never have been caught "napping;" so, now, let us
look about us and see if, on the very surface of events, we shall not
find something to our purpose. But where to begin, that's the
question: no clue is left to the absentee of a few years by which to
guide his path. He may look in vain even for the old landmarks which
he remembered in boyhood; for somehow he finds them all in
masquerade. The goodly King William he had left in all the effulgence
of his Orange livery, is now a cross between a river-god and one of
Dan's footmen. Let him turn to the Mansion-house to revive his memory
of the glorious hip, hip, hurra's he has shouted in the exuberance of
his loyalty, and straightway he comes plump against Lord Mayor
O'Connell, proceeding in state to Marlborough-street chap