When the ladies entered their breakfasting room the morning after their arrival in Dublin, they found it fragrant with the most delightful flowers; and the tables presented specimens of the finest fruits this city could boast of. Adelaide quickly recognized Colonel Desmond's habitual attention to the fair sex; whilst Mrs. Sullivan exclaimed, "A fine bill I'll varrant me for all these here kick-shaws:—I'll ring for the waiter to take them away." Her hand was on the bell, when Cecilia stopped her, by declaring she could eat nothing but fruit. "Who would have dreamt of seeing hot-house fruit in Ireland! Those flowers will keep me from fainting this hot day; don't send them away, mama:—unless I have every agreement you can procure me, I shan't be able to exist in the odious country you have dragged me over to." By this time Adelaide descried a note directed to herself on the breakfast table; the stalk of a rose unique was slipped into it, and on the outside was written in pencil, "Herself a fairer flower." She smiled at the gallant colonel's compliment, and found her note contained a polite congÉ from Mrs. St. Orme, who much regretted being obliged to leave Dublin at too early an hour to bid her adieu in person; but expressed a flattering wish, that an opportunity might occur for cultivating their further acquaintance. Adelaide, throwing down her note on the table as soon as she had read it, turned to examine the beautiful bouquets that adorned the flower stands; and every individual of the Webberly family took the opportunity of making themselves au fait of its contents. Had they been caught in the fact, they would hardly have felt ashamed, for any thing short of a letter, their code of the laws of honour permitted them to peruse. "A letter they would not read for the world"—when any body was looking at them!

Breakfast was scarcely finished when Mrs. Sullivan's servant entered the room, to know if she was at home to Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan? An answer being given in the affirmative, they quickly made their appearance. Mr. Donolan was nephew by marriage to Colonel Desmond's elder brother; but though this connection made them sometimes associate together, they were as completely dissimilar in mind as they were in person. Mr. Donolan was, as Cecilia called him, "a very pretty man." His hand rivalled her own in whiteness; his hair was not less carefully cut, combed, and curled in the most becoming manner; and the fair Cecilia might have worn his delicate pink waistcoat and worked shirt collar, as elegant and suitable accompaniments to her riding-habit, without the most scrutinizing eye discovering they had ever formed a part of male attire. This Hibernian Jessamy was the only child of a wealthy Catholic merchant of Dublin: the youth being too precious to be exposed to the hardships of a school, was nurtured at home by an obsequious tutor and a doting mother, in the most inordinate vanity. That vivacity of mind, with which nature usually endows his countrymen, fell to his lot also; and had it been properly directed, might have procured him well-earned fame; but unfortunately it only served as an impetus to his self-love, in a never-ceasing career of egotism, which made him prefer the casual "succÈs de sociÉtÉ," to the lasting benefit to be derived from solitary study. The reward of scholarship was of too tedious attainment for this impatient genius, who, without ceremony, dubbed himself a "dilettante," a title universally conceded to him by his Irish acquaintance, who took the liberty of quizzing him most unmercifully. Young Donolan did not fail to take advantage of the opportunity the general peace afforded for visiting the continent; he had there acquired a knowledge of the fine arts, which was just sufficient to enable him to interlard his conversation with those technical terms of connoisseurship, which, as "The Diversions of Purley" observe, commonly serve but as a veil to cover the ignorance of those who use them, and to privilege him to treat with sovereign contempt all the 'Aborigines of West Barbary,' as he most patriotically termed such of his countrymen and women, as had not redeemed the original sin of their birth, by at least a six week's visit to England or France. Mr. Donolan's manners corresponded to the double refined tone of his mind, (we are bound to apologize to him for using this term, as it betrays his father's ci-devant trade of sugar-baking): he stood on the threshold of fashion, and finding he could never be admitted into the sanctuary of the bona dea, was content to copy from a distance those more conspicuous embellishments of the object of his adoration, which, being singled from the finer web on which they are originally engrafted by the mystery of art, become deformities when deprived of their connecting, though almost invisible thread; and, thus detached, start forward in unmeaning caricature. But so little was he conscious of his outrÉ travesty "du bel air," that in the plenitude of his folly he had applied to himself Frederic the Great's description of the Prince de Salm: "Il est pÉtri de grÂces; tous ses gestes sont d'une ÉlÉgance recherchÉe; ses moindres paroles, des Énigmes. Il discute et approfondit les bagatelles avec une dextÉritÉ infinie, et possÉde la caste de l'empire du tendre, mieux que tous les Scuderi de l'univers[10]."

Mr. Donolan owed his introduction to our travellers to having accidentally met Colonel Desmond that morning at the Commercial Buildings in Dame-street; an elegant establishment, something of the nature of the Adelphi in London; and the place in the Irish capital where the wanderer is most likely to meet his acquaintances. In answer to some of Colonel Desmond's interrogatories, Mr. Donolan mentioned having just received a pressing invitation to visit Bogberry Hall, but that he was afraid it would not be in his power to visit Connaught this summer. "Certainly a journey there is a much more serious undertaking, than crossing the Alps was before we were indebted to Buonaparte for the Simplon road," replied Colonel Desmond laughing; "but you must some time or other be doomed to remain in this limbo for a short time. You had better encounter its apathetic powers now;—I am going to escort Mr. O'Sullivan's English connections to Ballinamoyle: perhaps they may enable you to support your penance with tolerable ease." "Ah ma foi! maintenant c'est toute autre chose, as the French say," replied Mr. Donolan: "I think I will visit my aunt. And you know," continued he, bowing to the exact angle which the upper part of the body of the most fashionable Parisian dancing-master forms with his lower, "more than one specimen of an accomplished gentleman will be necessary to convince the strangers, who have done our country the honour of visiting it, that there are some Irish not deserving the appellation of Goths and Vandals." "Really, my good fellow, you do me too much honour," replied Colonel Desmond; "only your modesty could induce you to place me on a par with yourself." "Point de tout, mon cher, point de tout! You, like me, have had the advantage of travelling; nobody could suspect either of us of being Irish." Provoked by this last observation, Colonel Desmond, as they left the coffee-house, hummed the air of the song which begins thus:—

Perhaps the satirical expression of his countenance had not entirely passed away, when he introduced Mr. Felix Donolan to the ladies of the Webberly party, as an "amateur and connoisseur of the fine arts, and an adept in chemistry, mineralogy, botany, and craniology." Colonel Desmond begged to know how he might be of use to the travellers, either as regarded their stay in Dublin, or their journey to Ballinamoyle, reminding Mrs. Sullivan of the permission she had granted him the day before, to escort her thither, and requesting her leave to constitute Mr. Donolan another knight-errant in the service of the fair itinerants.

Mr. Donolan's vanity acted in two ways regarding his country: it prompted him to use every secret endeavour to make it appear in the best point of view to strangers, whilst it led him to assert his own superior refinement by pretending to despise it. He recollected that Irish posting was famous and infamous, but that an English tourist of much celebrity had spoken in high terms of the packet-boats on the canals which lead to the interior; he therefore strongly advised Mrs. Sullivan to proceed as far as she could by this mode of conveyance. Colonel Desmond said in reply, "I don't think, Felix, that method of travelling has any thing to recommend it, except its extreme cheapness." The two words, extreme cheapness, conveyed an argument to Mrs. Sullivan's ear, that was not to be refuted by the powers of the most able logician; therefore it was agreed, that the next day but one they should proceed in the manner Mr. Donolan advised. It was also settled, that the mean time should be spent in seeing as much of Dublin as they could; and Colonel Desmond left them to procure the Provost's permission to show them the college of Dublin to the best advantage, by introducing them to such parts of the library, &c., as he only can admit strangers to see. The dilettante was highly delighted with the party. Mrs. Sullivan's cockney dialect he designated as "Anglicisms," and therefore much to be preferred to the most classical English, that could be conveyed to his ear, degraded by that peculiar accent of his country called the brogue. He was completely at a loss, whether most to admire Miss Cecilia Webberly's London airs, or Miss Wildenheim's foreign graces; and on leaving the room, said to himself, with the most affected tone and gesture imaginable,

Colonel Desmond, on his return, found the ladies and Mr. Webberly prepared to attend him to the college, where they proceeded on foot. This building stands in front of a small park, called the college gardens, appropriated to the students, who are in number about five hundred. The college presents a handsome front, of the Corinthian order, constructed with Portland stone, forming the base of a place of triangular form, named College Green, which, besides the edifice which designates it, boasts of the late beautiful Parliament House, that still continues to adorn the land it once benefited: Stat magni nominis umbra. The interior of Trinity College corresponds with its external elegance. The travellers visited the museum, the library, the chapel, the hall for examinations, and the provost's fine house and gardens. In the library they saw, with the compassion her name always excites, the hand-writing of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, in a Sallust she gave her sons and read, with unmixed horror, a letter of her great grandson, James the second, commanding the cruelties of the siege of Londonderry. Colonel Desmond did not fail to point out the exquisite botanical drawings of the celebrated Anna Maria Schurman, and Quin's bequest, which, besides many other bibliothecal rarities, is supposed to contain the finest copy of Virgil extant. As the party passed through the college yard, they were much surprised at the extreme youth of some of the students, who seemed scarcely old enough to have reached the higher forms of a grammar school; and Colonel Desmond told them the remarkable fact, that a few years ago, two boys entered the college on the same day, one from the north of Ireland, of thirteen, the other from the south, of eleven years of age. The former had been, long before this period, fitted to enter on his academical course; but his father not being sufficiently rich to send him, he was, for a considerable time, usher at a grammar school, till a subscription was raised by the publication of his juvenile poems, which enabled him to enter Trinity college. After leaving the college, our party proceeded down Dame Street, so called from the monastery of St. Mary les Dames, founded in the year 1146, by Dermot M'Murrough, king of Leinster, which stood on this spot. Dame Street is the Bond Street of Dublin; and here, at least, that want of crowds and equipages, so melancholy in many parts of that city, more especially at this season of the year, is not perceptible. The multitude of beggars has long formed a prominent feature in the aspect of the Irish capital; and from their mouths the traveller generally receives his first impression of the energy of language possessed by the lower Irish. No unaccustomed ear can listen without emotion to the awful words in which they clothe their benedictions. Were they of as moving power in Heaven, as on earth, they would be cheaply purchased by the alms of the passing stranger. Our party met with many such petitioners, whose prayers were proffered in words too solemn to be here transcribed. A woman, who called herself "The gentle Eliza," was recorded never to have asked in vain; she seemed once to have filled a higher station, for her figure was elegant, and her voice soft and musical, though a dejection, verging on madness, was depicted in her countenance. She appealed first to the heart, and if there she knocked in vain, she successfully addressed the vanity of her hearers, in a strain of varied flattery. Her life was irreproachable, and her history unknown.

Adelaide's attention was soon however diverted from this interesting object, by another of a very different description. A squalid looking woman, in the garments of extreme poverty, was leading her child by the hand, whose spotless skin, as white as snow, and its clean neat clothes, formed a surprising contrast to the mother's tattered filthy habiliments, Some hasty passenger knocked the poor infant down.—Adelaide raised it up, and as she beheld the countenance of a cherub, exclaimed, "What a beautiful creature!" The starving mother's mouth had opened to demand her charity, but her maternal pride made her forget her misery. "Troth, she is a beautiful cratur; she's the joy of my heart, and the light of my eyes; many's the long mile I've carried her, and thought it no toil; she makes me kindly welcome wherever I go; it was the Lord God sent her to me, an angel of comfort in my trouble: and may you never know trouble, dear; but my blessing, and the Lord's, be about you, when you get up, and when you lie down, and in your dying hour[11]." Adelaide felt her heart thrill within her, at this unpurchased benediction; she had scarcely given her all the silver in her purse, and less than she wished to bestow, when Colonel Desmond's sleeve was twitched by a venerable looking old gentleman, who begged to speak a word to him.—His countenance was uncommonly fine; he had

his reverend temples were adorned with the most beautiful flowing silver locks; his language and manners spoke the gentleman and the scholar; his threadbare coat alone told that he too was a mendicant! Colonel Desmond satisfied his usual demand of "Will you lend me a guinea?" without looking up to behold the blush that crimsoned his aged cheek; and with no other commentary than a deep sigh, rejoined his party.

This unfortunate man was of a respectable English family: in his youth he had embraced the clerical profession, and was one of the most eloquent preachers of his day; persuasion hung upon his lips; but, as has been said of individuals of his sacred order, he served only as a finger-post, to point out to others the path he did not tread himself. His talents and his interest procured him considerable church preferment in Ireland, which his extravagance and bad conduct ere long deprived him of. After spending some years in a prison, he repaired to the Irish capital, to live from day to day by any expedient that might occur. Here he partly supported himself, by being what is called in Ireland a "buckle-beggar," that is, a clergyman who solemnizes irregular marriages; partly by begging, under the pretence of borrowing, from any acquaintance he might happen to meet. He was now old and infirm, and would, five days out of six, have wanted a dinner, but that one of his former friends, who had, in better days, partaken of the charms of his wit at his hospitable board, most humanely requested him, in his decay of fortune and intellect, to share, at his table, a meal he could not otherwise have procured.

When the ladies were tired of their promenade, they returned towards their hotel. As Mr. Donolan took care of both the Miss Webberlys, Colonel Desmond could not do less than offer his arm to Mrs. Sullivan, Adelaide therefore was obliged to prefer the disagreeable necessity of accepting Mr. Webberly's, to the more flattering prudery of declining it: thus honoured, he walked along in triumph, looking from side to side, to see who admired his lovely charge, and anticipating the moment when she would be wholly and solely his. The dilettante, as they passed under the admired portico of the House of Commons, took the delightful opportunity of expatiating on the "cyma recta," and "cyma reversa," in an architectural combat with Miss Webberly, in which she met his triglyphs and metopes, with toruses, astragals, and plinths; whilst Cecilia much enjoyed their loud talking, as it attracted the eyes of numerous gentlemen to herself, who seldom failed to pass some audible encomium on her beauty as they walked by. Mrs. Sullivan, mentally lamenting the expenditure she had, in the course of their walk, made in charity, feelingly inquired of Colonel Desmond, if there were no asylums allotted to the poor in Dublin? "I believe, my dear madam," replied he, "no city, of the same size and wealth, is better provided with charitable establishments; but our poor have an unconquerable aversion to avail themselves of the relief thus afforded. As I went towards the Commercial Buildings this morning, I met a remarkably fine young man, who demanded alms; I remonstrated with him, and told him, what I supposed him ignorant of, that employment for every artisan in want was supplied at the House of Industry; he indignantly replied,—'It's myself that knows that right well! is it a dacent cratur, like me, you'd send to the House of Industry? Civil words eat no bread; and if you keep your charity, don't demane me by making a pauper of me!'"—Thus conversing, they reached the hotel.

Adelaide was not a little pleased to see Colonel Desmond and Mr. Donolan join their circle at dinner. In the evening they were entertained with a variety of itinerant musicians, whom the former collected from all quarters of the town for their amusement.

Mrs. Sullivan's stay in Dublin was too short to admit of her party visiting more of its public buildings; but the following day they repaired to the fine botanical gardens in its neighbourhood; and ended their morning excursion by driving through the Phoenix Park.