The gown is faded, the bonnet very brown, and the shoes have holes in them; but they indicate a mind, or station, at least a degree above those of her companions.

Her head is so inclined upon her breast, that it is difficult to see more than a pale face underneath the bonnet; but a pair of thin white hands that rest listlessly upon her lap, still tend to induce the notion that the girl cannot quite belong to the wild-looking company with which she is mixed up.
Right in front of her, and looking alternately from her to a man to whom she is talking, stands a middle-aged woman of good-natured but terrified aspect.

A checked and ragged handkerchief confines her black, rough hair--a torn red cloak covers a portion of her body, and a curious collection of rags and tatters makes a vain effort to shelter the rest.
In the large hood of the red cloak a hardy-looking infant is tied up, its little head and hand being alone visible, which are engaged in munching and holding a crust of bread.

At the feet of the woman are sundry articles, amongst which a bundle of rags, an iron pot, and a tin saucepan, are the most conspicuous.

The man to whom she is talking is a tall, gaunt specimen of Irish poverty and famine.