le of days
later, and Dickens whimsically describes his rapid recovery on
discovering the state of their balances. "He is now sitting opposite to
me on a bag of L40 of silver. It must be dreadfully hard."

[228] A letter to his eldest daughter (23rd of Aug.) makes humorous
addition. "The man who drove our jaunting car yesterday hadn't a piece
in his coat as big as a penny roll, and had had his hat on (apparently
without brushing it) ever since he was grown-up. But he was remarkably
intelligent and agreeable, with something to say about everything. For
instance, when I asked him what a certain building was, he didn't say
'Courts of Law' and nothing else, but 'Av yer plase Sir, its the foor
Coorts o' looyers, where Misther O'Connell stood his trial wunst, as
ye'll remimbir sir, afore I till ye ov it.' When we got into the
Phoenix Park, he looked round him as if it were his own, and said
'THAT'S a Park sir, av ye plase!' I complimented it, and he said
'Gintlemen tills me as they iv bin, sir, over Europe and never see a
Park aqualling ov it. Yander's the Vice-regal Lodge, sir; in thim two
corners lives the two Sicretaries, wishing I was thim sir. There's air
here sir, av yer plase! There's scenery here sir! There's mountains thim
sir! Yer coonsider it a Park sir? It is that sir!'"

[229] The Irish girls outdid the American (i. 385) in one particular. He
wrote to his sister-in-law: "Every night, by the bye, since I have been
in Ireland, the ladies have beguiled John out of the bouquet from my
coat; and yesterday morning, as I had showered the leaves from my
geranium in reading _Little Dombey_, they mounted the platform after I
was gone, and picked them all up as a keepsake." A few days earlier he
had written to the same correspondent: "The papers are full of remarks
upon my white tie, and describe it as being of enormous size, which is a
wonderful delusion; because, as you very well know, it is a small tie.
Generally, I am happy to report, the Emerald press is in favour of my
appearance, and likes my eyes. But one gentleman comes out with a letter
at Cork, wherein he says that although only 46, I look like an old man."

[230] "They had offered frantic prices for stalls. Eleven bank-notes
were thrust into a paybox at one time for eleven stalls. Our men were
flattened against walls and squeezed against beams. Ladies stood all
night with their chins against my platform. Other ladies sat all night
upon my steps. We turned away