re not so high, or the sky so blue as out here."

"Or the sun so hot, Larry," I remarked, "or the people so black. Did
you ever see Irishmen like that?" and I pointed to a boat manned by
negroes just coming alongside. Larry had never before seen a
blackamoor, for, as may be supposed, Africans seldom found their way
into Tipperary.

"Shure, your honour, is them Irishmen?" he asked.

"Speak to them, and you'll soon find out, and they'll tell you how long
it has taken the sun to blacken their faces."

"Then, Misther Terence, shall we be after getting our faces painted of
that colour if we stay out here?" he inquired with some trouble in the
tone of his voice.

"Depend upon it, Larry, we shall if we stay long enough," I answered. I
left Larry to reflect on the matter. I remembered a story I had heard
of an Irishman who had gone out intending to settle in Demerara, where a
large proportion of the white population have come from the Emerald
Isle. As soon as the ship had dropped her anchor a number of blacks
came off to her. The first he spoke to answered in a rich Irish brogue.
The new-comer looked at the negro with astonishment.

"What's your name, my man?" he asked. "Pat Casey," was the answer.

"And, Pat, say as you love me, how long have you been out here?"

"Little better than six years, your honour," was the reply, such being
the time that had elapsed since the negro had been imported, having in
the meantime had an Irish name given him, and learned to speak Irish.

"Six years, and you have turned from a white-skinned Irishman into a
blackamoor!" exclaimed the new-comer; and not waiting for an answer, he
rushed down into the cabin, which he could not be induced to quit until
the ship sailed again, and he returned home, satisfied that the West
Indies was not a country in which he could wish to take up his abode.

Not long after the conversation I have mentioned, Larry came up to me.

"I've been after talking, Misther Terence, with some of those black
gentlemen, and shure if they're from the old country they've forgotten
all about it, which no raal Irishman would ever do, I'll stake my
davey!" he exclaimed. "They've never heard of Limerick, or Cork, or
Waterford, or the Shannon, or Ballinahone, and that proves to me that
they couldn't have been in the old country since they were born. And
now, Misther Terence dear, you were joking shure," he added, giving me
one of his comical looks.

"Well, Larry," I