is not a spirit of affectionate attachment that survives time and distance, so that he on the Himalaya shall toast him on the Baltic coast, and the icebound sailor in Behring Strait remembers him who is roasting away under the sun of India.

For myself I can say, the sight of one of my old brethren of the Burschenschaft is such a renewal of gone-by triumphs as few actual pleasures can compete with. It is enough to bring up not alone youth, and its warm friendships and strong attachments, but hopes and high ambitions; and though these be not realised in my own case, I can look around me and think how many of those who were amongst our wittiest and best have lived to charm larger audiences and be the delight of more widespread circles than gathered around the board of the Burschen.

In a city so eminently hospitable as Dublin, it must be exceedingly difficult for any Viceroy to represent adequately the high duties that pertain to his station as a host. Where every one entertains, and entertains too at his best, what can the Lord-Lieutenant do to make his receptions distinctive? Certain men endowed with great graces of manner and demeanour were able to infuse the charm of their personality into their hospitalities, but for the most part Viceroys have relied upon their dig

nity for their social success; and there is a something of Brummagem about the Castle and its officials which to a fun-loving people like the Irish invariably suggests more matter for ridicule than reverence. Indeed, I have heard it gravely propounded that if the Lord-Lieutenancy were to be withdrawn there would be nothing left to laugh at in Ireland.

So far, then, from curtailing, I would increase its splendours. I would restore the privileges and honours of which time has robbed it. There should be ladies in waiting and maids of honour, as well as male followers. Glass coach days, boards of green cloth, knightings, and suchlike, should be of more frequent occurrence. The affectation of distinguished Englishmen to play the high-comedy part with a melodramatic gravity is downright insufferable. They know well, or they might know if they do not, that the whole is pour rire, and that though we mere Irish pretend to cling to it as a remembrance of our once greatness, a souvenir of a time when our city was a metropolis, we like it better for its blunders, its mock magnificence, its fictitious greatness, and its real insignificance.

The Irishman is the only man in Europe who could laugh at the mistake of the pilot who was wrecking the ship he was aboard of; and in this

way he enjoys with a racy drollery the blunders that actually lead to disasters. Fun has a stronger hold on his nature than fate, and you may always pinch his diet if you give him food for a joke.

The women dress better in Dublin than formerly. There is less of that over-decoration about the head, and that neglect of the lower extremities, which poor Thackeray remarked on. In the evening there was far more "freshness" in toilette than I remember of old. They dance, too, with great grace, and all the more to their praise that they have the most execrable ball-music in Christendom. As to good looks, there is not a city of Europe can compete with Dublin. The brows and eyes are of exceeding beauty, the tint of skin and hair is exquisite; the mouth is weak, the chin ill-marked; indeed, it is in the lower part of the Irish face in persons of condition that all that is deficient in expression is found. Amongst the peasants the lower jaw is only two much charged with meaning, and the meaning, ferocity.

I was consoled for the insult that has denied a Volunteer force to Ireland by remarking how comparatively clean shaven were young Irishmen. Clerks in the custom-house were not, as I have seen elsewhere, got up to resemble the Imperial Guard; nor were respectable shopmen like Sapeurs.

And now I want to say a word about the Exhibition, and I have no time, for my portmanteau is packed, my bill paid, and, as the waiter informs me, Mr O'Dowd's carriage is at the door.

I am truly sorry to go. I have a sort of lurking fear that I am looking at that old College Park for the last time; that I am taking a long adieu of these cari luoghi where as a youth I was wont to saunter of afternoons in that peripatetic flirtation which we freshmen cultivated, singeing our poor wings till we were left past flying. Oh dear! is there a stone in Dame Street we have not sighed over?

off.

"You'll be late, sir," whispers the waiter, and I'm

O'DOW D'S EXPERIENCES

"EN VOYAGE."-ACT II.

THE night was rough as I crossed the Channel, and though I slept tolerably well, I awoke at times to hear a somewhat active discussion carried on by a party of four, whose accents unmistakably declared them from the north of Ireland. So far as my unwilling ears compelled me to overhear, I gathered that they were Belfast men going over to be examined, or to tender instruction to others about to be examined, as to the late riots in that city.

One of them was evidently a person of some importance, either locally or officially. He was a fat, red-faced, bold man, with an expression of blended bull-dog and purse-pride that haunted me through my dreams; and in the deference shown him by the others, and his own assumption thereupon, there was that which, added to an expression he constantly