my but handsome well-cut face gleam a pair of
bright, marvellously bright blue eyes, and the voice which bids
welcome to the stranger is curiously sweet and sonorous. Mr.
Considine is quite the best speaker here, and his summons will always
bring an audience to Ennis. One enthusiast said to me, "Whin he dies,
may the heaven be his bed, and his statue should be beside O'Connell's
in Ennis." Now this model patriot, whom every one must perforce
respect for his perfect honesty and disinterestedness, keeps a
wretched little shop in a trumpery cabin. His stock-in-trade consists
of a few newspapers, his pantry holds but potatoes. Yet he is a great
power in Ennis, and the candidate for that borough who neglected him
would fare badly. I am not insinuating that any charge of venality can
attach to him. Quite the contrary. He is admitted to be a perfectly
disinterested citizen by those most opposed to him socially and
politically. He is not only one of those who have kept the sacred fire
of agitation burning since the days of O'Connell, but he is the
possessor of relics of '98. He owns and dons upon occasion the Vinegar
Hill uniform, and has '98 flags by him to air on great days. By dint
of sheer honesty and truthfulness this poor grimy old man has become
actually one of the chiefs of county Clare.

Another patriot came under my notice in a queer kind of way. I had
gone to look at the reclamation works on the Fergus river, and there
encountered a scene odd and peculiar beyond previous experience.
Shortly before me, had arrived Mr. Charles George Mahon, the nephew
of The O'Gorman Mahon, and a Mr. Crowe. These two gentlemen being
neighbours of Mr. Drinkwater, had looked in to see his works, and in a
friendly way were chatting to one of his foremen, bringing work to a
standstill, but conducting themselves with the easy affability common
to the lesser proprietors of county Clare. All was going smoothly
when, like his predecessors, disregarding the warning that no person
could be admitted except on business, a strange personage put in an
appearance. Neither Cruikshank, Daumier, nor Dore ever conceived a
more grotesque figure than that which entered the Clare Reclamation
works.

Imagine a singularly small rough-coated donkey stunted by too early and
too hard work, and on its back a cripple--a _cul-de-jatte_--carrying
his crutches with him, laid across the withers of the unfortunate
animal he bestrode. Imagine also a face, very cleanly