In the large hood of the red cloak a hardy-looking infant is tied up,
its little head and hand being alone visible, which are engaged in
munching and holding a crust of bread. At the feet of the woman are
sundry articles, amongst which a bundle of rags, an iron pot, and a tin
saucepan, are the most conspicuous. The man to whom she is talking is a
tall, gaunt specimen of Irish poverty and famine. He holds a rake and
pitchfork in his hand, and leans upon them for support. Gazing into his
face is a rough, surly-looking youth, who seems cordially to agree with
all that he says.

Leaning against the wall that flanks the gate on the side opposite that
which supports the girl, are another man and woman, who cast from time
to time pitying glances at the pale face beneath the straw bonnet. These
are as raggedly picturesque in their attire as the rest--a short red
petticoat, a blanket substituted for a shawl, and a bundle on the back,
distinguish the female; a long great coat and short trousers the male.
They are deep in conversation upon the common theme. A young man of more
stalwart figure stands beside the girl, and failing to attract her
attention, kneels down on one knee and speaks low to her. A little boy
is seated at her feet, alternately stroking her hands, and stirring up a
small puddle of water with a short stick. Two other children are engaged
at a little distance in making a lean cur beg for a mouthful of bread,
which the generous urchins would evidently rather share with the dog
than eat alone.

The one prevailing feature of the party is rags, and how they hold
together no tongue can tell.

At last there is a general movement, as well as general clamour of
voices and much gesticulation. All, old and young, with the exception of