us, or else
it's certainly O'Neill Daunt, in the 'Catechism of Irish History,' who
relates that when Richard the Second came to Ireland, and the Irish
chiefs did homage to him, going down on their knees--the poor simple
creatures!--and worshipping and wondering before the English king and
the dandies of his court, my lords the English noblemen mocked and
jeered at their uncouth Irish admirers, mimicked their talk and
gestures, pulled their poor old beards, and laughed at the strange
fashion of their garments.

The English Snob rampant always does this to the present day. There is
no Snob in existence, perhaps, that has such an indomitable belief in
himself: that sneers you down all the rest of the world besides, and has
such an insufferable, admirable, stupid contempt for all people but his
own--nay, for all sets but his own. 'Gwacious Gad' what stories about
'the Iwish' these young dandies accompanying King Richard must have had
to tell, when they returned to Pall Mall, and smoked their cigars upon
the steps of 'White's.'

The Irish snobbishness developes itself not in pride so much as in
servility and mean admirations, and trumpery imitations of their
neighbours. And I wonder De Tocqueville and De Beaumont, and THE TIMES'
Commissioner, did not explain the Snobbishness of Ireland as contrasted
with our own. Ours is that of Richard's Norman Knights,--haughty, brutal
stupid, and perfectly self-confident;--theirs, of the poor, wondering,
kneeling, simple chieftains. They are on their knees still before
English fashion--these simple, wild people; and indeed it is hard not to
grin at some of their NAIVE exhibitions.

Some years since, when a certain great orator was Lord Mayor of Dublin,
he used to wear a red gown and a cocked hat, the splendour of which
delighted him as much as a new curtain-ring in her nose or a string of
glass-beads round her neck charms Queen Quasheeneboo. He used to pay
visits to people in this dress; to appear at meetings hundreds of miles
off, in the red velvet gown. And to hear the people crying 'Yes, me
Lard!' and 'No, me Lard!' and to read the prodigious accounts of his
Lordship in the papers: it seemed as if the people and he liked to be
taken in by this twopenny splendour. Twopenny magnificence,
indeed, exists all over Ireland, and may be considered as the great
characteristic of the Snobbishness of that country.

When Mrs. Mulholligan, the grocer's lady, retires to Kingstown, she has
Mulho