[Cheers.] Just so, boys; they made them leave that; but I see you are impatient, so I'll not delay you, but fill to the brim, and with the best cheer in your body, drink with me the two greatest Irishmen that ever lived, 'Saint Patrick and Lord Wellington.'" The Englishmen laughed long and loud, while we cheered with an energy that satisfied even the major.
"Who is to give us the chant?
Who is to sing Saint Patrick ?" cried Maurice.
"Come, Bob, out with it." "I'm four tumblers too low for that yet," growled out the major.
"Well, then, Charley, be you the man; or why not Dennis himself?
Come, Dennis, we cannot better begin our evening than with a song; let us have our old friend 'Larry M'Hale.'" "Larry M'Hale!" resounded from all parts of the room, while O'Shaughnessy rose once more to his legs.
"Faith, boys, I'm always ready to follow your lead; but what analogy can exist between 'Larry M'Hale' and the toast we have just drank I can't see for the life of me; not but Larry would have made a strapping light company man had he joined the army." "The song, the song!" cried several voices.
"Well, if you will have it, here goes:"-- LARRY M'HALE.
AIR,--_"It's a bit of a thing_," _etc_.
Oh, Larry M'Hale he had little to fear, And never could want when the crops didn't fail; He'd a house and demesne and eight hundred a year, And the heart for to spend it, had Larry M'Hale! The soul of a party, the life of a feast, And an illigant song he could sing, I'll be bail; He would ride with the rector, and drink with the priest, Oh, the broth of a boy was old Larry M'Hale! It's little he cared for the judge or recorder, His house was as big and as strong as a jail; With a cruel four-pounder, he kept in great order, He'd murder the country, would Larry M'Hale.
He'd a blunderbuss too, of horse-pistols a pair; But his favorite weapon was always a flail.
I wish you could see how he'd empty a fair, For he handled it neatly, did Larry M'Hale.
His ancestors were kings before Moses was born, His mother descended from great Grana Uaile; He laughed all the Blakes and the Frenches to scorn; They were mushrooms compared to old Larry M'Hale.
He sat down every day to a beautiful dinner, With cousins and uncles enough for a tail; And, though loaded with debt, oh, the devil a thinner, Could law or the sheriff make Larry M'Hale! With a larder supplied and a cellar well stored, None lived half so well, from Fair-Head to Kinsale, As he piously said, "I've a plentiful board, And the Lord he is good to old Larry M'Hale." So fill up your glass, and a high bumper give him, It's little we'd care for the tithes or repale; For ould Erin would be a fine country to live in, If we only had plenty like LARRY M'HALE.
"Very singular style of person your friend Mr.M'Hale," lisped a spooney-looking cornet at the end of the table.
"Not in the country he belongs to, I assure you," said Maurice; "but I presume you were never in Ireland." "You are mistaken there," resumed the other; "I was in Ireland, though I confess not for a long time." "If I might be so bold," cried Maurice, "how long ?" "Half an hour, by a stop-watch," said the other, pulling up his stock; "and I had quite enough of it in that time." "Pray give us your experiences," cried out Bob Mahon; "they should be interesting, considering your opportunities." "You are right," said the cornet; "they were so; and as they illustrate a feature in your amiable country, you shall have them." A general knocking upon the table announced the impatience of the company, and when silence was restored the cornet began:-- When the 'Bermuda' transport sailed from Portsmouth for Lisbon, I happened to make one of some four hundred interesting individuals who, before they became food for powder, were destined to try their constitutions on pickled pork.

The second day after our sailing, the winds became adverse; it blew a hurricane from every corner of the compass but the one it ought, and the good ship, that should have been standing straight for the Bay of Biscay, was scudding away under a double-reefed topsail towards the coast of Labrador.

For six days we experienced every sea-manoeuvre that usually preludes a shipwreck, and at length, when, what from sea-sickness and fear, we had become utterly indifferent to the result, the storm abated, the sea went down, and we found ourselves lying comfortably in the harbor of Cork, with a strange suspicion on our minds that the frightful scenes of the past week had been nothing but a dream.
"'Come, Mr.Medlicot,' said the skipper to me, 'we shall be here for a couple of days to refit; had you not better go ashore and see the country ?' "I sprang to my legs with delight; visions of cowslips, larks, daisies, and mutton-chops floated before my excited imagination, and in ten minutes I found myself standing at that pleasant little inn at Cove which, opposite Spike Island, rejoices in the name of the 'Goat and Garters.' "'Breakfast, waiter,' said I; 'a beefsteak,--fresh beef, mark ye,--fresh eggs, bread, milk, and butter, all fresh.

No more hard tack,' thought I; 'no salt butter, but a genuine land breakfast.' "Up-stairs, No.

4, sir,' said the waiter, as he flourished a dirty napkin, indicating the way.
"Up-stairs I went, and in due time the appetizing little meal made its appearance.