independence had made me look to France as the emancipator of Europe.
As a man, I knew that the lust of conquest had extinguished the love of
freedom in Frenchmen; that they who trusted to her did but exchange the
dominion of their old masters for the tyranny of a new one; while such
as boldly stepped forward in defence of their liberties, found that
there was neither mercy nor compassion for the conquered.

I had seen the Austrian prisoners and the Russian led captive through
the streets of Paris; I had witnessed the great capital of Prussia in
its day of mourning after Jena; and all my idolatry for the General
scarce balanced my horror of the Emperor, whose vengeance had
smitten two nations thus heavily: and I said within my heart, "May my
countrymen, whatever be their day of need, never seek alliance with
despotic France!"

CHAPTER XXXIV. A CHARACTER OF OLD DUBLIN

It was about nine o'clock of a calm summer evening as I entered
Dublin,--nearly the same hour at which, some ten years before, I had
approached that city, poor, houseless, friendless; and still was I the
same. In that great capital of my country I had not one to welcome
me; not one who would rejoice at my coming, or feel any interest in my
fortunes. This indeed was loneliness,--utter solitude. Still, if there
be something which weighs heavily on the heart in the isolation of
one like me, there is a proportionate sense of independence of his
fellow-man that sustains the courage and gives energy to the will. I
felt this as I mixed with the crowds that thronged the streets, and
shrank not from the inquisitive glances which my questionable appearance
excited as I passed.

Though considerable changes had taken place in the outskirts of the
capital since I had seen it last, the leading thoroughfares were just
as I remembered them; and as I walked along Dame Street, and one by one
each familiar object caught my eye, I could almost have fancied the
long interval since I had been there before like a mere dream. National
physiognomy, too, has a strange effect on him who has been long absent
from his country. Each face you meet seems well known. The traits of
features, to which the eye was once so well accustomed, awake a memory
of individuals, and it is sometimes a moat difficult task to distinguish
between the acquaintance and the passing stranger.

This I experienced at every moment; and at length, as I stood gazing
on the space before the Bank, and call