280 NOTES ON AMERICA. 



become a resident among woods and swamps. I noticed, also, a beau- 

 tiful Italian greyhound, which appeared to be a great favourite and 

 the flute and guitar, which lay upon one of the benches under the piazza, 

 had evidently been recently in requisition. The cottage was built in a 

 superior style, having the roof projecting beyond the walls, till it 

 nearly reached the ground : it resembled those pretty little farm-houses, 

 so comfortable and picturesque, which charm the eye of the traveller in 

 Switzerland, in the cantons of Lucerne and Soleure. 



Soon after I arrived, the Fayetteville stage-coach was driven up to 

 the door, with a single passenger, who was the mail contractor, and evi- 

 dently acquainted with the inmates of the cottage. He invited me to 

 dine with him ; and I was confirmed in my suspicion of the English 

 origin of my host, by the mode in which our dinner was served so 

 different from the profuse and ill-managed economy of an American inn 

 table. We had only one dish of roasted venison, with some sweet pota- 

 toes; but the forks, salt-cellars, spoons, and drinking-cups, were of 

 silver the crest on which appeared to have been purposely disfigured, 

 and was nearly obliterated. During dinner, I endeavoured to learn, 

 from my companion, the name and quality of my fellow countryman 

 but he only laughed, and advised me to ask the gentleman himself, as 

 he was not at liberty to answer any questions respecting him. A negro 

 waited upon us, and I said nothing of the master or his daughter, till I 

 was mounting my horse to depart. I kissed my hand to the young lady, 

 who smiled gaily made a low bow to the father, who returned it like a 

 courtier, and, not without many " a longing, lingering look behind," 

 pursued my solitary way througn the woods, to the village where I 

 intended to pass the night. I wished, with all my heart, that another 

 hurricane would afford me a decent excuse to return. 



South Carolina appears to have been the favourite resort of emigrants 

 from Ireland. Several of the most wealthy and respectable merchants 

 and planters belong to that nation ; and I remember sailing from Phila- 

 delphia, in company with fifty or sixty fellow passengers, all residents 

 in'Charlestown, of whom three-fourths were Irish, or of Irish extraction. 

 In the interior, also, you meet with them at every village. It is said, 

 that during the last war, they formed a considerable proportion of the 

 crews of privateers, and the smaller government vessels. They were all 

 furnished, of course, with regular certificates of American birth and 

 citizenship, to be produced in case of capture by the enemy; but the 

 British officers had an amusing and rather ingenious method of disco- 

 vering their real place of nativity which the following short dialogue 

 will explain. 



British Officer. Where were you born ? 



Irish Sailor. In Pennsylvania State, your honor. 



British Officer. You are an Irishman ; I can tell by your brogue. 



Irish Sailor. Brogue is it, your honor? Sure I've no brogue at all, 

 at all but spake good English like a raal Amirican. 



British Officer. Then say peas. 



Irish Sailor. Is it paase, your honour? 



British Officer. Take that fellow down below. 



I have often remarked, that Irishmen in America will submit cheer- 

 fully to the most degrading drudgery, and endure with great composure, 

 the grossest personal abuse ; but he must be a very bold, or a very 

 ignorant man, who ventures to speak disrespectfully of the Emerald Isle 



