124 LIFE IN IRELAND 



Mullingar in Dirty Lane; 'twas never known to fail, 

 for no one was ever heard to complain after having 

 swallowed it. An arm chair in Ireland is merely a 

 London spatch-cock^ fixed with the wings so as to form 

 arms, and the legs so as to appear really legs, and a 

 sausage or a potatoe is placed on the seat mounted in 

 the form of a judge, and powdered with salt.' 



The crowd at the Rotunda was now so great that 

 Brian compared it to a pack of hounds hearking into 

 cover, and with some difficulty he and Sir Shawn 

 broke cover and gained Sackville Street in good order. 

 Quietness reigned around ; not a breath was heard but 

 that of the watchman roaring half-past tray o'clock, 

 the Downshire militia were padrowling the streets and 

 knocking down every one that came in their way : and 

 shouts of ' Death and glory ! ' from Earl Street, where, 

 as usual, the Kilkenny boys were dusting their jackets 

 and having a brush before morning. Our heroes steered 

 steadily along until they came to Moran's Hotel, into 

 which they darted ; there they found old Daly, Major 

 Sham, and Tim Byrne, engaged at billiards. Sir 

 Shawn was no billiard player; he never gambled, but 

 would take a hand at cards or a hand at a ball, in 

 a friendly way, as readily as any gentleman ought to 

 do. Brian did not know a game superior to Irish 

 Cribbage, Prick at the Candle, and Five and Ten ; 

 however, he took delight in viewing the anxiety of these 

 celebrated players to gain a stroke. ' One of these 

 gentlemen,' said Sir Shawn, 'is an adept in the art 

 of gambling ! he once was a patentee of a public place 

 of amusement, and resigned it in another's favour upon 

 a pension of seven hundred a year; since that he eats, 



