our governors? Now and then, too, when all else fails, we take a
newly-joined ensign and make him marry some pretty but penniless lass in
a country town, just to show the rest that we are not joking, but have
serious ideas of matrimony in the midst of all our flirtations. If it were
all like this, the Green Isle would be a paradise; but unluckily every now
and then one is condemned to some infernal place where there is neither a
pretty face nor tight ankle, where the priest himself is not a good fellow,
and long, ill-paved, straggling streets, filled on market days with booths
of striped calico and soapy cheese, is the only promenade, and a ruinous
barrack, with mouldy walls and a tumbling chimney, the only quarters.

"In vain, on your return from your morning stroll or afternoon canter, you
look on the chimney-piece for a shower of visiting-cards and pink notes of
invitation; in vain you ask your servant, Has any one called. Alas,
your only visitor has been the ganger, to demand a party to assist in
still-hunting amidst that interesting class of the population who, having
nothing to eat, are engaged in devising drink, and care as much for the
life of a red-coat as you do for that of a crow or a curlew. This may seem
overdrawn; but I would ask you, Were you ever for your sins quartered in
that capital city of the Bog of Allen they call Philipstown? Oh, but it is
a romantic spot! They tell us somewhere that much of the expression of the
human face divine depends upon the objects which constantly surround us.
Thus the inhabitants of mountain districts imbibe, as it were, a certain
bold and daring character of expression from the scenery, very different
from the placid and monotonous look of those who dwell in plains and
valleys; and I can certainly credit the theory in this instance, for every
man, woman, and child you meet has a brown, baked, scruffy, turf-like face,
that fully satisfies you that if Adam were formed of clay the Philipstown
people were worse treated and only made of bog mould.

"Well, one fine morning poor Tom and myself were marched off from Birr,
where one might 'live and love forever,' to take up our quarters at this
sweet spot. Little we knew of Philipstown; and like my friend the adjutant
there, when he laid siege to Deny, we made our _entree_ with all the pomp
we could muster, and though we had no band, our drums and fifes did duty
for it; and we brushed along through turf-creels and wicker-baskets of