cers of the garrison, the Castle officials, or a
wealthy class of country gentlemen, all of whom gave sixpences; while
in the cold quarter of northern Dublin, penny-pieces were the only
currency. If the public differed in these three places, so did the
claims of the aspirant: a grave, quiet, almost sombre look being the
grand qualification in the one, while an air of daring effrontery was
the best recommendation in the other. For while the master in
chancery or the "six clerk" would only commit his bobtailed pony to a
discreet-faced varlet of grave exterior, the dashing aide-de-camp on his
thoroughbred singled out the wild imp with roguish eye and flowing hair,
that kept up with him from the barrack in a sharp canter, and actually
dived under a carriage-pole and upset an apple-stall to be "up" in
time to wait on him; and while yet breathless and blown, was ready with
voluble tongue to give him the current news of the neighborhood,--who
was in the Square, or out dining; who had arrived, or why they were
absent. To do this task with dexterity and tact was the crowning
feature of the craft, and in such hasty journalism some attained a high
proficiency; seasoning their scandal with sly bits of drollery or quaint
allusions to the current topics of the day. To succeed in this, it
was necessary to know the leading characters of the town and the
circumstances of their private history; and these I set myself to learn
with the assiduity of a study. Never did a Bath Master of the Ceremonies
devote himself more ardently to the investigation of the faults and
foibles of his company; never did young lady, before coming out, more
patiently pore over Debrett, than did I pursue my researches into Dublin
life and manners; until at last, what between oral evidence and shrewd
observation, I had a key to the secret mysteries of nearly every
well-known house in the city.

None like me to explain why the father of the dashing family in
Stephen's Green only appeared of a Sunday; how the blinds of No. 18 were
always drawn down at three o'clock; and what meant the hackney-coach
at the canal bridge every Thursday afternoon. From the gentleman that
always wore a geranium leaf in his coat, to the lady who dropped her
glove in the Square, I knew them all. Nor was it merely that I possessed
the knowledge, but I made it to be felt. I did not hoard my wealth
like a miser, but I came forth like a great capitalist to stimulate
enterprise and encourage cr