of measurement was provocative of ridicule
or indignation, as the impatient might happen to be infected; but while
the affair was in full blow, Mr. Furlong, who was the commissioner,
while walking in Sackville-street, one day, had a goodly sheet of paper
pinned to his back by some--

--"sweet Roman hand,"

bearing, in large letters, the inversion of one of his own tablets,

+------------------+
| ONE FURLONG |
| FROM THE CASTLE. |
+------------------+

and as he swaggered along in conscious dignity, he wondered at the
shouts of laughter ringing behind him, and turned round occasionally to
see the cause; but ever as he turned, faces were screwed up into
seriousness, while the laughter rang again in his rear. Furlong was
bewildered, and much as he was used to the mirthfulness of an Irish
populace, he certainly _did_ wonder what fiend of fun possessed them
that day, until the hall porter of the secretary's office solved the
enigma by respectfully asking would he not take the placard from his
back before he presented himself. The Mister Furlong who is engaged in
our story was the nephew of the man of measurement memory; and his
mother, a vulgar woman, sent her son to England to be educated, that he
might "pick up the ax'nt; 't was so jinteel, the Inglish ax'nt!" And,
accordingly, the youth endeavoured all he could to become _un_-Irish in
everything, and was taught to believe that all the virtue and wisdom in
Ireland was vested in the Castle and hangers-on thereof, and that the
mere people were worse than savages.

With such feelings it was that this English Irishman, employed to open
negotiations between the government and Squire O'Grady, visited the
wilds of Ireland; and the circumstances attendant on the stopping of
the chaise afforded the peculiar genius of Handy Andy an opportunity of
making a glorious confusion, by driving the political enemy of the
sitting member into his house, where, by a curious coincidence, a
strange gentleman was expected every day on a short visit. After Andy
had driven some time, he turned round and spoke to Mr. Furlong, through
the pane of glass with which the front window-frame of the chaise was
_not_ furnished.

"Faix, you wor nigh shootin' me, your honour," said Andy.

"I should not wepwoach myself, if I had," said Mr. Furlong, "when you
quied stop on the woad: wobbers alwa