knew a number of men like Mick Digney, who was what was called a
"lumper"--that is, a contractor in a small way who took work in the
"lump" and employed men for loading and unloading ships. Digney and
other friends would find their way for consultation and the making of
the necessary arrangements beforehand on occasions like this to
MacManus, whose place of business--he was an extensive forwarding
agent--was one of those half-offices, half-warehouses, which used to be
in North John Street.

Another class of men who were reliable for such occasions were the
bricklayers' labourers. Of course, it is different now--and a sure sign
that our people are rising in the social scale--but in those years, and
long afterwards, I never knew a bricklayers' labourer who was not an
Irishman.

The frequent mention at these gatherings of a sterling Irishman I knew
well in after years, Patrick O'Hanlon, reminds me of two friends of my
father of the same name who belonged to another class of men, the
wood-sawyers, who, at that time, were mostly Irish. They had not
exactly the same name as Patrick, for it was not so customary to use the
O' or Mac in those days as it has since become. Not that Hughey and Ned
Hanlon did not know that they were entitled to the honourable Gaelic
prefix, but, with the good nature which is rather too characteristic of
Irishmen sometimes, those who had preceded them had allowed other people
to drop the O' in using their name, until it became rather difficult to
resume it.

Needless to say that Hughey and Ned Hanlon, John Green, Mike Doolan, and
other wood-sawyers were at the Royal Amphitheatre among MacManus's
volunteers. The Hanlons, in particular, were fine lathy men, without an