minutes the coffee will be clear for use: "some of the best families in Paris now adopt this plan, which is certainly superior to any other in use." A French physician recommends coffee made by cold infusion, to stand a day and then to be filtered; and two table-spoonfuls of this coffee poured into a breakfast-cup of hot milk make an excellent beverage. Every family should roast as well as grind their own coffee, both which are done at home in France; and if otherwise, you cannot expect to rival French coffee. The villanous adulteration of coffee with chicorée is properly exposed; for some of the London-made stuff should be called chicorée dashed with coffee, so strongly does the herb predominate: burnt beans, corn, and breadraspings are another fictitious coffee. These are important items, seeing that coffee, from the reduction of duty in the Peel tariff, is likely to be more drunk than hitherto: of late years, the consumption has declined. to do all the honours, and after having chosen his queen, to make a present of champagne, or some other luxury, to the party." We opine he had rather his luck had not been. The article Restaurant fully describes the economy of that establishment, with a lengthy carte, &c. But we must have done; though it should be mentioned that' to the Domestic Dictionary is added, a Dictionary of Family Medicine, by Dr. Reitch. HEADS AND TALES. A WIG RIOT. In the year 1764, when wigs went out of fashion, the wigmakers of London were thrown out of work, and reduced to distress. They then petitioned George III. to compel gentlemen to wear wigs by law, for the benefit of their trade. sent their petition, it was noticed that most of those persons, As the wig-makers went in procession to St. James's to prewho wanted to compel other people to wear wigs, wore no wigs themselves; and this striking the London mob as very inconsistent, they seized the petitioners and cut off all their hair par force. Upon this, Horace Walpole observed: "Should one wonder if carpenters were to remonstrate, that since the peace their trade decays, and that there is no demand for wooden legs?" SCHOOLS FOR PARLIAMENT. Creozote is noticed as a preventive of sea-sickness; but it should have been added that all such panaceas are dangerous if used frequently. Poor Monk Lewis killed himself by this means. Under Dinner-Mode of serving, the French ladies are recommended to leave the gentlemen in the dining-room for about a quarter of an hour, that they may talk politics, agriculture, sporting, commerce, and the like masculine topics, instead of annoying the ladies with such conversation. In England, however, politics are rarely discussed at all at good tables. Many of our In the first meetings of a society, at a public school, two families have altogether adopted the French habit of with-floor should be covered with a sail-cloth or carpet; and better or three evenings were consumed in debating whether the drawing from the dinner-table with the ladies; but, we think, with Lady Blessington, that the fair ones in the drawing-room are not a whit less pleased with the gentlemen for having a few minutes to themselves. Here we see the beneficial effect of the admixture of French and English customs. Eau Sucrée, (a few lumps of sugar, a little orange-flower water, and plain water,) is the usual beverage at French evening parties. It is also prescribed by the faculty, and is, the reader is assured, a much more efficient remedy than he may imagine-indeed, a sort of homeopathic prescription. In scolloping oysters, we are told to use parsley or thyme; this is heresy, to which we cannot subscribe; nutmeg is omitted. Neither can we agree that salmon is improved by keeping; all white fish may be. Carême directs a boiled turbot to be garnished with a large boiled lobster, (as we see laid across, at the fishmongers') and this lobster to be garnished with smelts, fastened with silver skewers. Ortolans are scarce and dear: they should be covered with bacon, and roasted, as, indeed, the French cover nearly all poultry and game. They likewise dress a pheasant with two woodcocks, entrails, livers, and all-as stuffing-a pretty expensive affair-though "this dish is worthy of being set before angels." Punning apart, it will materially add to the length of the bill. Ginger Beer is said to have been invented by Mr. Pitt, a surgeon, at Lewes. French ginger-bread is made with rye-flour and honey, and insipid stuff it is: Jeremy Bentham breakfasted for many years on English gingerbread. The Galette is the favourite pastry of France; it is a heavy paste cake: "The extent to which the common people in France indulge in Galette, may be judged of from the fact, that a man who kept a shop for the sale of it near the Porte St. Martin theatre, in Paris, and who had a renommée over his contemporaries in the same locality, sold the good-will of his shop, a place about four feet square, for more than £2000 sterling. The twelfth-cakes in France are merely galette marked in slices. A bean is placed in one of them, and the person to whose share this falls, is chosen king for the evening, and is expected practice was gained in these important discussions than in those that soon followed, on liberty, slavery, passive obedience, and tyrannicide. It has been truly said that nothing is so unlike a battle as a review.-Sharp. ORDER IN BOOKS. A Quaker, by name Benjamin Lay, (who was a little cracked in the head, though sound at heart), took one of his compositions once to Benjamin Franklin, that it might be printed and published. Franklin, having looked over the manuscript, replied the author, print any part thou pleaseth first. Many observed that it was deficient in arrangement: It is no matter, are the speeches, and the sermons, and the treatises, and the poems, and the volumes, which are like Benjamin Lay's book: the head might serve for the tail, and the tail for the body, and the body for the head; either end for the middle, and the middle for either end; nay, if you could turn them inside out, like a polypus, or a glove, they would be no worse for the operation.-The Doctor. BURNING CHIMNEY SWEEPERS. A large party are invited to dinner; a great display is to be made; and about an hour before dinner, there is an alarm that the kitchen-chimney is on fire! It is impossible to put off the distinguished personages who are expected. It gets very late for the soup and fish; the cook is frantic; all eyes are turned upon the sable consolation of the master chimneysweeper, and up into the midst of the burning chimney is sent one of the miserable little infants of the brush! There is a positive prohibition of this practice, and an enactment of penalties, in one of the acts of parliament which respect chimney-sweepers. But what matter acts of parliament, when the pleasures of genteel people are concerned? Or what is a toasted child compared to agonies of a mistress of the house, with a deranged dinner?-Sydney Smith. Dr. Shaw, the naturalist, was one day showing to a friend two volumes written by a Dutchman, upon the wings of a butterfly, in the British Museum. "The dissertation is rather voluminous, sir, perhaps you will think," said the Doctor, gravely, " but it is immensely important London: Published for the Proprietors, by 2 LONDON SATURDAY JOURNAL. CONDUCTED BY JOHN TIMBS, THIRTEEN YEARS EDITOR OF "THE MIRROR," AND "LITERARY WORLD." PAGE . 234 235 . 237 . 238 240 OLD ENGLISH COSTUME. "THE reign of Edward III.," observes the painstaking Mr. Planché, "is one of the most important eras in the History of Costume. The complete changes that take place in every habit, civil or military, render its effigies and illuminations more distinctly conspicuous than those perhaps of any other period, from the Conquest to the days of Elizabeth. The effigy of this great monarch, (on his tomb at Westminster), is remarkable for its noble simplicity. The number of the royal vestments does not exceed that of his predecessors, but their form is rather different. The dalmatica is lower in the neck and shorter in the sleeves than the under tunic, and the sleeves of the latter come lower than the wrist, and are decorated by a closely-set row of very small buttons, the continuation of a fashion of the reign of Edward I. His shoes or buskins are richly embroidered, and his hair and beard are patriarchal. He bears the remains of a sceptre in each hand; the crown has been removed or lost from the effigy."* The selection of this costume by Her Majesty and His Royal Highness Prince Albert, for themselves and the court, at the magnificent ball at Buckingham Palace, on Thursday last, was a choice as tasteful as it was judicious. The Prince, who was attired after the effigies of Edward"decus Anglorum"-well became its grand and simple style: the broad band, which extended across the breast, and fastened the mantle to his shoulders, was a superb galaxy of gems. Her Majesty's costume was, if any thing, even more successful than that of her illustrious consort: it was copied from the alabaster effigies of Queen Philippa, at Westminster, the original of the accompanying Engraving; and it is scarcely possible to imagine any habit more graceful than this chaste and beautiful attire. Nevertheless, it cannot be concealed, that since the royal choice became known, several mis-statements of the details of the costume of Queen Philippa have appeared in the journals of the day; and as these may mislead many readers, and at the same time mar the idea of the grandeur of the style of the attire itself, we have thought such errors ection, while it affords us the oppornity of il e best age of our national costume. semb distinct fashion may have long interest endures as a memorial of ages, an era until lately but imthe general reader. Hereafter, it may be interesting to notice more in detail the precise points of correspondence of the dress of Her Majesty with that of Queen Philippa, which the accounts of the Ball on Thursday may enable us to accomplish. Meanwhile, it is gratifying to reflect that the occasion of this magnificent display has not been one of frivolous pageantry, but of pure patriotism-the revival of our national manufactures from a state of depression into which they appear to have been thrown by political circumstances, and not by any lack of ingenuity on the part of our suffering countrymen. The object of this fete has been" all mankind's concern"-charity, the exercise of which pure and holy virtue is one of the brightest glories of the British diadem, and lends it a lustre even more brilliant than the victories of Cressy or Poictiers. THE SULTAN OF MUSCAT. THE monarch of Muscat is commonly, but erroneously, spoken of under the title of Imâm, which is a name given to Islamic priests, and when applied to a prince or chief, signifies a sovereign pontiff. Soon after the accession of the Sultan, the people were desirous of creating him Imâm, an officer whose duties include the direction and manage ment of religious as well as temporal affairs; but he was too wise to accede to the wishes of his subjects, because it would have compelled him, according to the usage of the country, to lead a life of piety and poverty, without the power of openly enjoying his wealth. Syed Syeed bin Sultan, the sovereign of Muscat, is one of the most distinguished princes of Asia. During a long minority, the administration of the government was confided to an Imâm, and uncle of the young monarch, who was unwilling to resign when his ward became of age; and in order to remove him out of his way, conducted him to a lonely fortress. There the young Sultan was informed by his friends that the Regent aimed at his death; and to frustrate this ambitious design, he one evening requested to see his uncle. No sooner was he in his presence than Syed Syeed stabbed him with his khunger. The Regent, wounded as he was, scaled the wall, and mounting a swift horse, fled. The friends of the young prince told him that his work was only half done, and that if his uncle escaped alive, his throne would be insecure. He at once mounted and followed his relative, whom he found stretched beneath a tree, unable to proceed, from loss of blood. He there pinned him to the ground with his spear, and hastening to a neighbouring strong-hold, knocked loudly at the gate, and called for assistance, stating that his uncle was dying, not far off. Of course the Regent was found dead. The Sultan returned to his friends, and the next day hastened to Muscat, which he reached before the news of the Regent's death. He immediately summoned the captains of the fortresses, and when they were all present, he required that they should deliver up their respective commands to such persons as he should name, under pain of immediate death in case of refusal. He appointed successors from his own tribe, and has since observed the same policy in filling all offices in his government. In this manner he History of British Costume, p. 130. + It need scarcely be added that the depressed state of the Spitalfields manufacture, and the royal desire to revive it, first suggested the late Ball. obtained possession of the throne, in 1807, but held it as a tributary to Sahoud Abdallah, the chief of the Wahabites, until 1816. Sahoud was that year subdued, and conducted to Constantinople by the famed Ibrahim Pacha, and there publicly executed. The Sultan is a pious Moslem, as well as a brave warrior, having made the pilgrimage to Mecca. Several years ago, when the government of British India was engaged in suppressing Arab pirates, (the Jossames,) who infested the Persian Gulf, Syed acted in alliance with the English. He is the Haroun al Raschid of his time, and is as munificent as he is brave. A few years since, he sent a lineof battle ship, called the Liverpool, to Bombay, as a present to the East India Company; which being declined, he sent it to England, to King William IV. The present was accepted, and a suitable gift sent in return; and, in compliment to the Sultan, (though an awkward one,) the ship was named the Imâm. The Sultan has two wives; the last one he wedded is a daughter of the Shah of Persia; and besides these, he has not less than twenty concubines, from Circassia, Georgia, and Abyssinia. He had, in 1838, seven sons; but the birth of a female child not being an event to refore the number of his daughters is unknown. joice at amongst the Arabs, passes without notice; where A large portion of the Sultan's time is occupied at the Divan, in hearing petitions and administering justice in by four judges. There are no lawyers in the place, and criminal cases. All litigation involving property is decided the parties only advise and counsel with their friends, Theft is not common; but instances of personal quarrel are frequent, and are often decided upon the spot, by an appeal to the khunger, or sword. Murder is a capital offence, unless the relatives of the deceased are willing to commute the sentence for money; in which case they and a captain expressed his astonishment that such a silly usually accept of 1000 dollars. Duelling is unknown; custom should prevail amongst rational people; adding, give him the opportunity to kill, as well as insult you.”— "If a man insult you, kill him on the spot; but do not Abridged from Dr. Ruschenberger's Voyage round the World. THE GIRL AND THE FOUNTAIN. A WEEPING maid, by Cupid pained, The fountain mourns the summer sun; My being's light,-the absent one!" Months had gone by, the fountain played All gladly in the summer light; And near it smiled that gentle maid, Whose tearless eyes once more were bright. "As varied once our griefs," she cried, "So, vary now our joys in thisWhile all my bitter tears are dried, The fountain weeps, and both for bliss. "Yet each a kindred joy appears, The fountain hails the summer ray, My summer's love, and all my tears Have by his lips been kissed away!” NO. III-A LEGEND OF the glen.—CHAP. II. "The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl: When spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves: That time best fits the work we have in hand." King Henry VI. TIBBIE had guessed pretty shrewdly, when she said her son would be dancing away with the lasses Cumock at their friend's house in Glenhaw; for, as it happened, her surmise proved perfectly correct in all points. However slowly time to her seemed passing away, it certainly was the reverse to Sandy, and his fair companions. To them it flew with incredible swiftness, and in fact its rapidity was more than once the theme of great surprise; for who could have thought it was so late? Ay, who indeed? not they at least who had been enjoying themselves for hours with the greatest happiness and glee; since, amidst the healthy, happy pleasure which that gladsome meeting inspired, the last of all things to be noted was the speed of time. There" honest men and bonny lasses" were striving to forget their daily hours of toil, while enjoying a brief season of innocent diversion-for there and then it was, that hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels, Put life and mettle in their heels." And while the stars of fun and frolic were in the ascendant, many a joke and sly remark were bandied about, and all was one rich scene of festivity and joy. The happiest meeting, however, must have an end; and long after the clock had struck the wee short hour ayont the twal," the joyous party separated, each to his or her own home. Sandy, of course, was the happy gallant of Jeanie Cumock and her sister; and though he felt the presence of the latter as a sort of restraint, and wished to have had the pleasure of escorting Jeanie alone, yet the delight of having the slightly leaning arm of his beloved resting on his, was a pleasure more than enough to make him happy, And then, there was the wind blowing every now and then pretty fiercely around them, making his fair charges cling more closely to his arm.-Oh! how he loved those fitful gusts of wind, and how happy he felt when Jeanie pressed nearer to him! It was ecstacy itself. The road they had to walk was both wild and dreary, in such a night; but little cared Sandy for wind or weather, or wild or dreary roads either; for he, being one of your true lovers, despised all trivial inconveniences; so that he might be near his sweetheart, which in itself was happiness to him. From Glenhaw to Killstane is a walk of some five miles, and though in a summer-day the thickly-wooded scenery through which the road winds, and the romantic glen through which it passes, make it a pleasant and shady walk; it must be confessed in a dark November night, with the wind howling among the creaking branches of the trees, and the darkness surrounding each object with gloom, it is anything but delightful to traverse it--but least of all, in that lone hour of night, or rather morning. It will not, therefore, excite surprise' if Jeanie and her sister had some slight feelings of dread while travelling such a dismal road in such a night, even though they had such a manly protector as the redoubted Sandy Moss. However, there was no help for it; on they must get, with whatever courage they might-but at the same time, it was not without bestowing many furtive glances of dread at sundry "hillocks, stanes, an' bushes," which in the distance, seemed to assume gigantic forms, and appeared in all spectral ghastliness. On and on they went, battling with the tempest, and making but little progress; though Sandy was both stout and courageous, and faced the storm most lustily. At length, they reached the opening of the glen, and prepared to have a vigorous race down the steep descent: for well they knew, that with the wind blowing in their faces, the climbing of the opposite hill would be a task of no small difficulty. To break in some measure the steepness of the road, it had been cut in a zigzag manner, with many turnings and windings-here, running along the very edge of a precipitous cliff, and there, disappearing behind some thicket of trees and tangled shrubs. Now, it was when they had passed some few of these windings, and were emerging from one of the most dreary of the thickets, that sounds, as if of human voices, seemed mingling with the storm, and instantly attracted their attention. Sadly alarmed, the girls fairly trembled, and anxiously besought Sandy to stop and listen ere they proceeded further. For his part, he said, it must be the wind alone, and nothing more; but proceed they would not, and stop he must. The gust of wind passed away, and was succeeded by a few moments of stillness-such as had often occurred since they commenced their journey. "I tell'd ye it was but the wind," said Sandy, anxious to restore some courage to his trembling companions," and ye see, I hae been richt." The three listened for a moment, and again the sound came more clearly than before. Nor was it far distant; for now as they listened, it seemed proceeding from the bottom of the glen, from which they were removed but a few yards, - another winding of the road would have brought them to it. "Wha can there be at this hour, and in such a place ?" and the speaker clung more closely to Sandy's arm. “O come to the roadside-behind these bushes-and whaever it is, let them pass unnoticed!" said Jeanie, pulling him and her sister with her. Scarcely had they concealed themselves, before the wind arose in its fury, and as its blast passed onward, above its howling noise they could hear a wild and piercing scream, as if from some female voice; and even amidst the noise of that storm, they could distinguish it was a cry of entreaty. A fearful imprecation was all the reply; and while Sandy was only restrained by the earnest entreaties of the trembling sisters from breaking from his place of concealment to ascertain the cause of alarm, and if need be, render his assistance, the report of fire-arms greeted their ears, followed by a loud and piercing shriek. It was the death-scream of some murdered victim. While horror freezed their hearts with its icy coldness, and for a moment plunged their thoughts in unconsciousness, there was a hurried trampling of feet; and before they were well aware, or had indeed recovered their surprise, a chaise dashed past them at full gallopthe horses snorting with fury, and making sparks of fire fly from their hoofs, as they spurned the flinty road. "Preserve us! what a fearfu' deed is this," said Sandy, breaking the silence of alarm into which all three were thrown. "A deed o' blackness I trow it is-but heaven will avenge it in its own good time-Come, let us go on." Pale and trembling, they proceeded onwards. A few steps brought them to the scene of the fearful tragedywhere, starting with horror, they beheld a lady weltering in her blood. An affrighted scream was uttered at once by both sisters, while Sandy knelt down by the dying creature. Life was fast ebbing from her bosom; and, as he raised her head from off the cold stones, a stream of blood oozed from a wound in her brow, seeming to blind her fast closing eyes. Oh it was a piteous sight! and nearly drove Jeanie and her sister frantic."What, what can be done ?" they eagerly cried; " for oh! she is dying-she is dying!" Even as they cried, and while Sandy held her bleeding head, vainly endeavouring to stanch the wound, she made an effort, as if to speak; but though her lips moved, the words seemed to choke in her throat, and her utterance failed her. At length, arousing her every energy she faintly uttered: "My husband- forgive him, just Heaven-Oh! forgive him!" and even as they gazed, a slight tremor passed over her bosom, and heaving a deep sigh, she expired. | something no richt atween them twa, for I saw the puir ledy greetin' richt sair, baith afore we got to Killstane, an' as we left it; but Heaven help us! I little thocht her end was to be sae near." With feelings of no small dread, they then proceeded to the village, where Sandy saw the trembling girls safely to their home; and then, accompanied by the postillion, betook himself to his own. "Gudesake, laddie! what in a' the world has kept ye sae late? an' whar hae ye been ?" said his mother, opening the bolted door to his familiar knock; but no sooner did the light fall on his pale features, than her surprise was turned to alarm—the more so when she saw by whom he was accompanied. "What's wrang? speak, for Gudesake speak !” All three stood for a time, gazing sorrowfully on the lifeless form before them, perplexed what to do, or how to act. At length, they resolved to hasten homeward, and relate the alarming tidings. With all speed, therefore, they proceeded; but scarcely had they advanced some twenty or thirty yards, before a shriek from Jeanie once more arrested their course. Eagerly did Sandy inquire the cause of this new alarm; but he was only Giving a brief reply, he proceeded to the kitchen, where answered by Jeanie pointing to some dark object on the it was his turn to become surprised; for there sat his road side, a short distance before them. No sooner did father in an arm-chair, with his head bandaged, and seemher sister perceive it, than she too began to tremble most ingly only aroused from a dozing slumber by the noise of violently; and since truth needs be told, it must be con- his entrance. After inquiries on both sides, and having fessed, that Sandy also viewed it with some timidity. It ascertained the cause of his father's bandaged head, Sandy was no time then, however, to allow fear to obtain the narrated fully the occurrences of the evening in so far as mastery over him; so calling up as much courage as he he had seen or heard ;-and, in the discussion which then was able, he proceeded to reconnoitre the object of alarm- ensued, as to what should now be done, it was resolved his terrified companions still clinging more closely to him. that Sandy himself should immediately proceed on horseWhat with the storm and darkness, and the state of agita- back to the county town, (some fifteen miles distant) and tion into which they had been thrown by the fearful give prompt information of the murderous deed to the scene they had just witnessed, they were peculiarly apt to proper authorities, so that instant pursuit might be given be inspired with dread; and certainly the object which to the criminals; meanwhile, the postillion was to remain now met their view was little calculated to dispel it. The where he was. In pursuance of this resolution, no time darkness was too intense to allow of their perceiving was lost in having the landlord's grey pony saddled; and clearly its form and nature, until they were quite close in spite of storm and darkness, which still continued with thereto; and in their then state of mind-so perplexed little abatement, and notwithstanding the previous exerwith fear and alarm-imagination too willingly lent its tions he had undergone that night, Sandy immediately aid in giving it forms of ghastliness. But, as they ap-mounted, and rode off at the pony's utmost speed. proached nearer, those visions of phantasy were dispelled; and in the form that in vain attempted to rise, they at once recognised a man, bound hand and foot, and with his mouth gagged. Instantly cutting the cords with which he was bound, and removing the gag, Sandy assisted him to rise. It was the postillion. "Faith, freend, ye hae dune me a guid turn the noo," said he, recovering freedom of speech and action," an' had ye no cam bye, I dinna ken if I would e'er hae seen the mornin'. "But how cam ye here at a' ?" inquired Sandy. "Losh, that's easy tell'd," he replied. "Ye see I was driving a gentleman an' lady, wi' their flunkie, in a chaise frae B- to the next toon; but instead o' taking the richt road, they gart me come a byeway to Killstane, where we stopped for about an hour. Weel, when we started again, I was for driving straight on, thinkin' to get to the mainroad in a wee while, but I didna get my ain will, for they ordered me to gang back the road we cam. Wunderin' what in a' the earth was to be the upshot, I did as I was bid; but had only gotten this length, when the ill-looking thief o' a servant roared out to stop; nae suner had I dune sae, than he laipt frae his seat, an' before I weel kent where I was, he nockit me frae the horse in a twinklin'. It was nae a wee nock, for faith it drave me senses frae me, an' I kenn'd nae mair till I fand mysel lying as you got me. But hae ye cam far this way, for maybe ye'll hae seen the chaise, an' how can I gang hame wantin' the horses? Faith I hae gotten into a pickle I wish I was weel out o'." THE POETRY OF BIRDS. (Concluded from page 219.) MRS. JAMESON, in her Winter Studies and Summer Rambles, thus notes: "I had a visit this morning from a man I must introduce to you more particularly. My friend Col. F. would have pleased me any where, but here, (Canada) he is really invaluable. Do you remem ber that lyric of WORDSWORTH's, the Reverie of Pour Susan,' in which he describes the emotions of a servantgirl from the country, whose steps are arrested in Cheapside by the song of a caged-bird? ''Tis a note of enchantment-what ails her? she sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves! She looks, and her heart is in heaven!' And how near are all human hearts allied in all natural instincts and sympathies, and what an unfailing, universal fount of poetry are these, even in their homeliest forms! F- told me to-day that once as he was turning down a bye street in this little town, he heard somewhere near him the song of the lark, (now, you must observe there are no larks in Canada but those which are brought from the old country.) F-shall speak in his own words: So, Ma'am, when I heard the voice of the bird in the air, I look, by the natural instinct, up to the heavens, though I knew it could not be there, and then on this side and then on that; and sure enough, at last I saw the little creature perched on its sod of turf in a little cage, and there it kept trilling and warbling away, and there I stood They briefly related the events which had occurred but a few minutes before, which at once horrified the postil-stock-still listening with my heart. Well, I don't know lion as it had themselves. "I could hae sworn," he said, having walked forward, and looked upon the murdered lady, "that there was what it was at all that came over me, but every thing seemed to change before my eyes; and it was in poor Ireland I was again, a wild slip of a boy, lying on my |