e
military in Tipperary. I have said that the Scotch have a national
costume; but if _semi_-nakedness be a charm in them, what shall be
said of us, who go the "whole hog?" The details of their ancient
dress--their tartan, their kilt, their philabeg, that offered so much
interest to the royal suite--how shall they vie with the
million-coloured patches of an Irishman's garment? or what bonnet that
ever flaunted in the breeze is fit to compare with the easy jauntiness
of Paddy's _caubeen_, through which, in lieu of a feather, a lock of
his hair is floating?

"Nor clasp nor nodding plume was there;
But for feather he wore one lock of hair."

_Marmion._

Then, again, how will the watch-fires that blazed upon the mountains
pale before the glare of a burning haggard; and what cheer that ever
rose from Highland throats will vie with the wild yell of ten thousand
Black-feet on the march of a midnight marauding? No, no; it is quite
clear the Scotch have no chance with us. Her Majesty may not have all
her expectations fulfilled by a visit to Ireland; but most assuredly a
"touch of our quality" will show her many things no near country could
present, and the probability is, she will neither have time nor
leisure for a trip to New Zealand.

Everything that indicates nationality will then have its reward. Grave
dignitaries of the Church will practise the bagpipes, and
prothonotaries will refresh their jig-dancing; whatever is Irish, will
be _la vogue_; and, instead of reading that her Majesty wore a shawl
of the Gordon tartan, manufactured at Paisley, we shall find that the
Queen appeared in a novel pattern of rags, devised at Mud Island;
while his Royal Highness will compliment the mildness of our climate
by adopting our national dress. What a day for Ireland that will
be!--we shall indeed be "great, glorious, and free;" and if the
evening only concludes with the Irish Quadrilles, I have little doubt
that her Majesty will repeat her exclamation of "How grand!" as she
beholds the members of the royal suite moving gracefully to the air of
"Stonybatter."

Let us, then, begin in time. Let there be an order of council to
preserve all the parsons, agents, tithe-proctors, and landlords till
June; let there be no more shooting in Tipperary for the rest of the
season; let us "burke" Father Mathew, and endeavour to make our heads
for the approaching festivities; and what between the new