bones. He sprang about, sometimes on his
feet, sometimes, all-fours, but always uttering the most fearful yells,
and glaring upon the crowd, in a manner that was really dangerous. The
Knight did not feel exactly happy at the whole proceeding, and began
heartily to wish himself back in the 'House,' even upon a committee of
privileges, when, suddenly, the savage gave a more frantic scream than
before, and seized upon a morsel of raw beef, which a keeper extended to
him upon a long fork, like a tandem whip--he was not safe, it appears, at
close quarters;--this he tore to pieces eagerly and devoured in the most
voracious manner, amid great clapping of hands, and other evidences of
satisfaction from the audience. I'll go, now, thought the Knight: for,
God knows whether, in his hungry moods, he might not fancy to conclude
his dinner by a member of parliament. Just at this instant, some sounds
struck upon his ear that surprised him not a little. He listened more
attentively; and, conceive if you can, his amazement, to find that, amid
his most fearful cries, and wild yells, the savage was talking Irish.
Laugh, if you like; but it's truth I am telling you; nothing less than
Irish. There he was, jumping four feet high in the air, eating his raw
meat: pulling out his hair by handfuls; and, amid all this, cursing the
whole company to his heart's content, in as good Irish as ever was heard
in Tralee. Now, though the Knight had heard of red Jews and white
Negroes, he had never happened to read any account of an African
Irishman; so, he listened very closely, and by degrees, not only the
words were known to him, but the very voice was familiar. At length,
something he heard, left no further doubt upon his mind, and, turning to
the savage, he addressed him in Irish, at the same time fixing a look of
most scrutinizing import upon him.

"'Who are you, you scoundrel' said the Knight.

"'Billy M'Cabe your honour.'

"'And what do you mean by playing off these tricks here, instead of
earning your bread like an honest man?'

"'Whisht,' said Billy, 'and keep the secret. I'm earning the rent for
your honour. One must do many a queer thing that pays two pound ten an
acre for bad land.'

"This was enough: the Knight wished Billy every success, and left him
amid the vociferous applause of a well satisfied audience. This
adventure, it seems, has made the worthy Knight a great friend to the
introduction of poor laws; for, he remarks