nguist was a native.
His face brightened up at once, a certain smile of self-satisfied
triumph passed over his features, he smacked his lips, and then poured
out a torrent of strange sounds, which, from their accent, I guessed to
be Russian.

"Do you speak Sclavonic?" said he in French; and as I nodded a negative,
he added--"Spanish,--Portuguese?"

"Neither," said I.

"Where do you come from then?" asked he, retorting my question.

"Ireland, if you may have heard of such a place."

"Hurroo!" cried he, with a yell that made the room start with amazement.
"By the powers! I thought so; come up my hearty, and give me a shake of
your hand."

If I were astonished before, need I say how I felt now.

"And are you really a countryman of mine?" said I, as I took my seat
beside him.

"Faith, I believe so. Con O'Kelly, does not sound very like Italian,
and that's my name, any how; but wait a bit, they're calling on me for a
Dutch song, and when I've done, we'll have a chat together."

A very uproarious clattering of brass and pewter cans on the tables,
announced that the company was becoming impatient for Mynheer O'Kelly's
performance, which he immediately began; but of either the words or
air, I can render no possible account, I only know, there was a kind of
_refrain_ or chorus, in which, all, round each table, took hands, and
danced a "grand round," making the most diabolical clatter with wooden
shoes, I ever listened to.

After which, the song seemed to subside into a low droning sound,
implying sleep. The singer nodded his head, the company followed the
example, and a long heavy note, like snoring, was heard through the
room, when suddenly, with a hiccup, he awoke, the others also, and then
the song broke out once more, in all its vigour, to end as before, in
another dance, an exercise in which I certainly fared worse than my
neighbours, who tramped on my corns without mercy, leaving it a very
questionable fact how far his "pious, glorious, and immortal memory"
was to be respected, who had despoiled my country of "wooden shoes" when
walking off with its brass money.

The melody over, Mr. O'Kelly proceeded to question me somewhat minutely,
as to how I had chanced upon this house, which was not known to many,
even of the residents of Antwerp.

I briefly explained to him the circumstances which led me to my present
asylum, at which he laughed heartily.

"You don't know, then, where you are?" said he, looking at m