parsons at the Corn Exchange; that the Viceroy was dining with the
Corporation, and congratulating them on the prosperity of Ireland, while
the inhabitants were regaled with a procession of the "broad ribbon
weavers," who had not weaved, heaven knows when! This, with an
occasional letter from Mr. O'Connell, and now and then a duel in the
"Phaynix," constituted the current pastimes of the city. Such, at least,
were they in my day; and though far from the dear locale, an odd flitting
glance at the newspapers induces me to believe that matters are not much
changed since.

I rambled through the streets for some hours, revolving such thoughts as
pressed upon me involuntarily by all I saw. The same little grey
homunculus that filled my "prince's mixture" years before, stood behind
the counter at Lundy Foot's, weighing out rappee and high toast, just as
I last saw him. The fat college porter, that I used to mistake in my
school-boy days for the Provost, God forgive me! was there as fat and as
ruddy as heretofore, and wore his Roman costume of helmet and plush
breeches, with an air as classic. The old state trumpeter at the castle,
another object of my youthful veneration, poor "old God save the King" as
we used to call him, walked the streets as of old; his cheeks indeed, a
little more lanky and tendinous; but then there had been many viceregal
changes, and the "one sole melody his heart delighted in," had been more
frequently called in requisition, as he marched in solemn state with the
other antique gentlemen in tabards. As I walked along, each moment some
old and early association being suggested by the objects around, I felt
my arm suddenly seized. I turned hastily round, and beheld a very old
companion in many a hard-fought field and merry bivouack. Tom O'Flaherty
of the 8th. Poor Tom was sadly changed since we last met, which was at
a ball in Madrid. He was then one of the best-looking fellows of his
"style" I ever met,--tall and athletic, with the easy bearing of a man of