se awhile, and at last inquisitively snouted one dish that stood
alone, like a small monument. Down went the strange thing and smashed.
The pig thought this was singular, and was somewhat startled. Still, he
resolved to persevere in his investigations. He inserted his nose into a
long, hollow thing that lay there, but could not get it out of the jug
again. In his horror and fright at such an extraordinary accident, he
plunged round and round the place; and, as he went, things fell and
cracked and crashed under his feet in an awful and terrifying manner. At
last he hit the thing that covered his snout against something hard, and
it, too, broke. But a splinter wounded his nose, and made him squeal and
fairly scream with pain and fright. At last, executing one final
pirouette and gambado, while the strange things crunched and crackled at
every move of his, he rushed out through the door, oversetting a man who
was coming in with a bundle of firewood.

It was a scene of woe when the rest of us arrived from work. Concern and
consternation sat on every brow, as the Little'un unfolded his tale, and
we surveyed the universal smash of our crockery. Only O'Gaygun showed
signs of levity. In stentorian tones he shouted:--

"A jedgment! a jedgment on ye, bhoys! The very bastes is sint to prache
aginst yer exthravagance an' lukshury! The pigs is tachin' ye as they
tached the howly St. Anthony av ould! O glory, glory! 'tis grand!"

But his remarks were ill-timed. Conservatism was out of favour just
then, and the Liberals were in power. The wrath of the assembly was
turned upon this audacious prophet; and, excommunicated from the shanty,
it was very late before humanity compelled us to let him have his
supper. And I may mention that fresh pork chops were added to the bill
of fare that night.

CHAPTER VI.

OUR HOME-LIFE.

Among the friends of colonists at home in Britain, among those who talk
most and know least of this land of the blest, I specify three classes.
First, there are the people who talk of "roughing it" with an air of
rapturous enjoyment, and a Micawber-like roll of the voice, as if that
were really something good, something both pleasant and praiseworthy in
itself. Again, there are those who shudder at the bare idea, and who
conceive it, perhaps, to be a good deal worse than it really is. Lastly,
there are some who are quite vacuous in the matter, either because the
term conveys no meaning to their minds, or b