pot. They
said it was bad for digestion, but it made me eat slowly; and you may
perhaps have perceived,--indeed, you have perceived,--that I am rather
quick in my habits."

I nodded oracularly.

"Well, the first few weeks I was here that was my only misery. Without
the paper everything looked lonely and miserable. I used to go to the
door every five minutes to see whether there was a newsboy on the
horizon; but you cannot understand the feeling."

"Can't I? I know it well. You remember what the uprooted tree was to the
blinded giant in Virgil:

'Ea sola voluptas,
Solamenque mali.'

Well, that was the newspaper to me. But how do you get on now?"

"I never care to see one. Nay, I should rather have a feeling of
contempt for any one whom I should see wasting valuable time on them."

"But the news of the world, politics, wars, the amenities of Boards of
Guardians, Town Commissioners, etc.; the suicides, the divorces, stocks
and shares, etc.;--don't these things interest you?"

"No. My only regret is, when the boys ask me about the war, I am afraid
I appear awfully ignorant. And they're so learned. Why, every fellow
down at the forge thinks himself a General or an Admiral. 'Ah, if I had
dem troops, wouldn't I settle so and so!' Or, 'Why the d---- didn't
Gineral S---- bring out his cavalry? 'T is the cavalry does it.
Bourbaki--he was the Gineral!' 'Yerra, what was he to Skobeloff?' And
they look at me rather mournfully."

Here an awful blast swept the house, as if to raze it to its
foundations.

"A pleasant day for a sick-call to Slieveogue!" I said.

"I shouldn't mind one bit. 'T would make the fire the merrier when I
returned. I enjoy nothing half so much as walking in the teeth of wind
and rain, along the smooth turf on yonder cliffs, the cool air lapping
you all round, and the salt of the sea on your lips. Then, when you
return, a grand throw-off, and the little home pleasanter by the
contrast. By the way, I was out this morning."

"Out this morning? Where?" I exclaimed.

"Up at Campion's."

"Nonsense!"

"Quite true. And would you guess for what, sir?"

"Go on. I am a poor hand at conundrums."

"You don't know Mrs. C----, a constable's widow at Moydore?"

"I can't say I have that pleasure. Stop! Did she come about a license?"

"She did."

"And you helped her?--No! God forbid! That would be too great a
somersault!"

"I did."

"What?"

He looked embarrassed, and said, apolo