Mulholliganville' painted over the gate of her villa; and receives you
at a door that won't shut or gazes at you out of a window that is glazed
with an old petticoat.

Be it ever so shabby and dismal, nobody ever owns to keeping a shop. A
fellow whose stock in trade is a penny roll or a tumbler of lollipops,
calls his cabin the 'American Flour Stores,' or the 'Depository for
Colonial Produce,' or some such name.

As for Inns, there are none in the country; Hotels abound as well
furnished as Mulholliganville; but again there are no such people as
landlords and land-ladies; the landlord is out with the hounds, and my
lady in the parlour talking with the Captain or playing the piano.

If a gentleman has a hundred a year to leave to his family they all
become gentlemen, all keep a nag, ride to hounds, and swagger about
in the 'Phaynix,' and grow tufts to their chins like so many real
aristocrats.

A friend of mine has taken to be a painter, and lives out of Ireland,
where he is considered to have disgraced the family by choosing such
a profession. His father is a wine-merchant; and his elder brother an
apothecary.

The number of men one meets in London and on the Continent who have a
pretty little property of five-and-twenty hundred a year in Ireland
is prodigious: those who WILL have nine thousand a year in land when
somebody dies are still more numerous. I myself have met as many
descendants from Irish kings as would form a brigade.