In a great portion of Ireland there are to be found, in all fairs, what the people term _spoileen_ tents--that is, tents in which fresh mutton is boiled, and sold out, with bread and soup, to all customers.

I know not how it happens; but be the motive or cause what it may, scarcely any one ever goes into a spoileen tent, unless in a mood of mirth and jocularity.

To eat spoileen seriously, would be as rare a sight as to witness a wife dancing on her husband's coffin.

It is very difficult, indeed, to ascertain the reason why the eating of fresh mutton in such circumstances is always associated with a spirit of strong ridicule and humor.

At all events, nothing can exceed the mirth that is always to be found among the parties who frequent such tents.