completely sickened by the bigoted
on each side, that I have come to the determination, as every honest
Irishman ought, of knowing no party but my country, and of devoting such
talents as God has given me, to the promotion of her general interests,
and the happiness of her whole people.

Dublin, December 24, 1844.

CHAPTER I.--An Irish Pair and Spoileen Tent

--A Marriage Proposal--An Under Agent--An Old Irish Squire and Union
Lord.

The town of Castle Cumber it is not our intention to describe at
more length than simply to say, that it consists of two long streets,
intersecting each other, and two or three lanes of cabins--many of them
mud ones--that stretch out of it on each side at right angles. This
street, and these straggling appendages, together with a Church, a
Prison, a Court-house, a Catholic chapel, a few shops, and half a
dozen public houses, present to the spectator all the features that are
generally necessary for the description of that class of remote country
towns of which we write. Indeed, with the exception of an ancient Stone
Cross, that stands in the middle of the street, and a Fair green, as
it is termed, or common, where its two half-yearly fairs are held, and
which lies at the west end of it, there is little or nothing else to be
added. The fair I particularly mention, because on the day on which the
circumstances I am about to describe occurred, a fair was held in the
town, and upon the green in question. The month was December--the day
stormy and unpropitious. There had been a deep snow and hard frost
for nearly three weeks before; but now the aspect of the white earth
contrasted wildly with the large masses of black clouds which hung
motionless in the air, and cast a dark and gloomy spirit not only over
the appearance of inanimate nature, but into the heart of man himself.

About noon, just when the whole fair had been assembled, the storm
commenced with wind, sleet, and rain. Never was a more striking or
unexpected change produced. Women tucked up, nearly to the knees, their
garments, soaked with wet, clinging to their bodies and limbs, as if
a part of themselves--men drenched and buttoned up to the chin--all
splashing through the slippery streets, their shoes spouting with
snow-broth--the falling of tents--the shouting against the loudness
of the storm, in order to be heard--the bleating of sheep, lowing of
cattle, the deafening and wild hum of confused noises--all, when added