My small-clothes are corduroys, bought from a hard-working laborer, with a large patch upon each knee.

A tailor, however, has promised to get some buttons for them and sew them on.

The waistcoat is altogether indescribable; because, as its materials seem to have been rescued, that is, stolen, from all the scarecrows in the country, I am' unable to come at the first fabric.

The coat itself is also beautifully variegated, its patches consisting of all the colors of the rainbow, with two or three dozen that never appeared in that beautiful phenomenon.

But what shall I say of the pendiment, or caubeen, which is a perfect gem of its kind?
The villain who wore it, I have been told by the person who acted as factor for me in its purchase, was one of the most quarrelsome rascals in Ireland, and seldom went without a black eye or a broken pate.