and literary
paupers clothed? Was no one answerable for the grim despair of that
half-starved wretch, whom but now we saw, looking down so sadly on
the young sufferers to whom he had given life and poverty? That can
hardly be. And if we feel the difficulty which, among his numerous
philanthropic works, Lord Birmingham must experience in attending to
the state of his numerous dependents, it only makes us reflect more
often, that from him to whom much is given, much indeed will be
required!

But we are getting far from our story. Going a little further down
the hill, there is a lane to the right. This always was a dirty,
ill-conditioned lane, of bad repute and habits. Father Mathew and the
rigour of the police have of late somewhat mended its manners and
morals. Here too one now sees, but a short way from the main street,
the grand new stirring poor-house, which ten years ago was not in
being.

In this lane at the time to which we allude the widow Mulready kept
the shebeen shop, of which mention has before been made.

In her business Mrs. Mulready acquired much more profit than
respectability, for, whether well or ill-deserved, she had but a
bad name in the country; in spite of this, however, to the company
assembled here on Wednesday evening,--the same evening that Thady
dined with Father John,--we must introduce our readers.

The house, or rather cabin, consisted only of two rooms, both on the
ground, and both without flooring or ceiling; the black rafters on
which the thatch was lying was above, and the uneven soil below;
still this place of entertainment was not like the cabins of the very
poor: the rooms were both long, and as they ran lengthways down the
street, each was the full breadth of the house: in the first sat
the widow Mulready, a strong, red-faced, indomitable-looking woman
about fifty. She sat on a large wooden seat with a back, capable of
containing two persons; there was an immense blazing fire of turf,
on which water was boiling in a great potato pot, should any of her
guests be able to treat themselves to the expensive luxury of punch.
A remarkably dirty small deal table was beside her, on which were
placed a large jar, containing a quantity of the only merchandize in
which she dealt, and an old battered pewter measure, in which she
gave it out; in a corner of the table away from the fire was cut a
hole through the board, in which was stuck a small flickering candle.
No further implements appear