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turtle-soup was not. The fish-but who will doubt the merits or variety of Cork harbour fish!—the superlative sirloin, the delicious sparerib-the tender fillet—the beauteous breast

and the luxurious leg—but why, when everything was good, should we pause to particularize ?

Yet here it may be necessary, in compassion to our readers’ natural curiosity and good nature, briefly to inform them, that the right worshipful the mayor was secured from a watery grave, by a landing net, which the philanthropic Cummings, observing the accident from his country-house window, had despatched to his assistance. Alas, poor Goblet! he had filled himself so full of water, that he was incapacitated from the further fulfilment of his office, and was humanely put to bed, at the instance of the cornet, at Mr. Crawfield's house, on Merchant's Quay.

Toleken, being an excellent swimmer, supported himself with perfect composure, and was immediately picked up; but when the fall of the elephant precipitated Tom Barrett, the piper's representative, into the water, his rise was instantaneous, owing to the sustaining power of the wind in the bag of his pipes, which was firmly strapped under his arm. Rising, however, to the surface he shook his head, but neglecting on the instant to continue the exertion of his elbow, sunk again. Another opportunity was soon afforded him, for speedily reappearing, and in furious desperation, he blew a blast so loud and shrill, that all eyes

were directed towards his course down the river.

Convinced of his principle of buoyancy, like that of the famous preacher, Mountjoy, he continued his progress, without further exertion than that of sending forth a succession of all the shrill and discordant notes the pipes were capable of producing. Whether or not his

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situation was so comic as to paralize their efforts, or that the boatmen were really indifferent to his fate, certain it is, that they pulled to the poor piper's assistance in a most lethargic and indifferent manner, and heeded neither the wailings of his pipes, nor his vociferations for assistance, until he had actually cracked the bag which supported him, and sunk, in consequence, into the stream. He was then picked up with a boat-hook, more dead than alive.

But to resume

The cloth was removed. Billy Kearns, the eldest alderman of the corporation, represented the mayor. He was seated on the banqueting board in a chair, placed at one end of the long table, with a small table before him, bearing a

magnum of port, and a ditto of claret, for his

own private drinking. He was also provided with a lusty jug, for the manufacture of that beverage which delights the heart of every true

Irishman, with the necessary accompaniments of sugar and lemons.

and lemons. Beneath him was seated Mr. Deputy Millikin, who had the charge of distributing a double allowance of magnums to the company, with jugs of punch, at discretion. A knocking on the upper table announced that the president was on his legs.

MR. DEPUTY MILLIKIN.

“ Silence, gentlemen--the president proposes

a toast.”

PRESIDENT.

“ Our good old King—God bless him !”

MILLIKIN-(through a speaking trumpet.)

“ Gentlemen-Our good old King, God bless him! Nine times nine, if you please. Take the time from me-hip, hip, hip, hurrah.”

OMNES.

Hip, hip, hip-hurrah !"

A universal knocking of knuckles, and clinking of glasses, followed this exhibition of loyalty. The national air was played by the band ; and a royal salute fired from the guns of the

castle.

Several toasts followed—when silence

was again particularly requested, and Millikin

communicated the fact, that an important toast was about to be given.

PRESIDENT.

“ Gentlemen-I am about to propose a toast,

which I am sure will be listened to with the

utmost attention, received with the highest enthusiasm, drunk with the national ardour, and crowned with the greatest honours by every member of the present company. This day is

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