He retaliated with a light touch of self-depreciation.

"An Irishman, sir, in a country where the Irish have fallen, and not without reason, into general disrepute." Over a biscuit and a glass of sherry he gave a rough outline of the circumstances that had led to his leaving England, two years previously, and of his dismayed arrival in what he called "the cesspool of 1852".
"Thanks to the rose-water romance of the English press, many a young man of my day was enticed away from a modest competency, to seek his fortune here, where it was pretended that nuggets could be gathered like cabbages--I myself threw up a tidy little country practice....

I might mention that medicine was my profession.

It would have given me intense satisfaction, Mr.Turnham, to see one of those glib journalists in my shoes, or the shoes of some of my messmates on the OCEAN QUEEN.
There were men aboard that ship, sir, who were reduced to beggary before they could even set foot on the road to the north.

Granted it is the duty of the press to encourage emigration--" "Let the press be, Mahony," said Turnham: he had sat back, crossed his legs, and put his thumbs in his armholes.