y's. And he has another direful mark
which stamps him at once; namely, that "profanation to ears polite,"
_his brogue_! He possibly may not look ill to the eye--perhaps the
reverse; his countenance may be honest and open, and his bearing manly,
as he approaches an employer to seek for work; up to that point all goes
well, perhaps; but once his mouth opens, the tale is told; instantly
_Prejudice_ does her office, unknowingly almost, and unless actual need
exist, Paddy may apply elsewhere, again and again to meet the same
rebuff. Lancashire, Somersetshire, Yorkshire, may revel in their patois
without raising a doubtful feeling or a smile, but the brogue of Ireland
does the work at once, and the unhappy being from whom it issues slinks
back into himself degraded, as he hears the certain laugh which answers
his fewest words, and the almost certain refusal to admit him within the
pale of his class in England. Hence St. Giles's as it was--the purlieu
of Westminster, as it is--the Irish labourer's refuge in England, is
often the lowest point, because he cannot be driven lower.

And all this arises, not from ill will, but from long felt prejudice,
and the repetition of stories and anecdotes and caricature of Irish
character, which trifling circumstances have given rise to and upheld;
and which, I grieve to say, is greatly due to the domiciled Irishmen in
England, of the middle and better class. They sometimes forget their
country, and in place of explaining away fallacies and making known
facts which would have roused England long since to our aid, had they
been fairly understood, _fear_ to tell truths which they deem to be
unpalatable, while perhaps their own palates are being feasted on the
good things of the party who declaims against their country: thus
permitting the continued existence of prejudice and consequent
estrangement.

It is in no small degree amusing to observe the _attempt_ made, in
addition, to disguise the fact that the delinquent I speak of (I had
almost written renegade) is an Irishman. No wonder that he should
attempt the disguise, for he must deeply feel his delinquency. In all
cases such as this, the Cockney twang and occasional curtailment is
assumed to overcome the _brogue_, but in vain. For the first half dozen
words of each _paragraph_ in a conversation it gets on well enough, but
the conclusion is sometimes exquisitely ridiculous.

I had the _honour_ to meet at dinner recently, a person of this cl