t all the
less a British functionary was seen the better.

"In literature I have done nothing barring a couple of articles on
Ireland and the Irish in America, a subject I have much at heart.
But much as I feel for them and with them, I refused dining with my
countrymen on St. Patrick's Day because they had the _gaucherie_ (of
which I had previous notice), to turn the festive meeting into a
political one, by giving 'O'Connell and success to repeal' as one of
their 'regular' toasts, and by leaving out the Queen's health, which
they gave when I dined with them last year."

Then after detailed notices of the movements of his sons, he goes on:

"We have many plans in perspective, Niagara, Canada, Halifax, the
mountains, the springs, the sea; the result of which you shall know as
soon as we receive a true and faithful account of your adventures in
just as many pages as you can afford; but Tom must in the meantime
send me a long letter ... Tell Tom I have half resolved to give up
punning and take to repartee. A young fellow said to me the other day,
'Ah! Mr. Consul (as I am always called), I wish I could discover a
new pleasure.' 'Try virtue!' was my reply. A pompous ex-Governor said
swaggeringly to me at the last dinner party at which I assisted,
'Well, Mr. Consul, I suppose you Europeans think us semi-civilised
here in America?' 'Almost!' said I. Now ask Tom if that was not pretty
considerable smart. But assure him at the same time, it is nothing at
all to what I _could_ do in the way of impertinence! Need I say how
truly and affectionately we all love you?

"T.C. GRATTAN."

* * * * *

I wrote back that I would enter the lists with him in the matter of
impertinence; and as a sample told him that I thought he had better
return to the punning.

I could, I doubt not, find among my mother's papers some further
letters that might be worth printing or quoting. But my waning space
warns me that I must not indulge myself with doing so.

CHAPTER XVIII.

I said at the beginning of the last chapter, that during the period,
some of the recollections of which I had been chronicling, the two
greatest sorrows I had ever known had befallen me. A third came
subsequently. But that belonged to a period of my life which does not
fall within the limits I have assigned to these reminiscences. Of the
first, the death of my mother, I have spoken. The other, the death of
my wife, followed it at no