As they made that well-known journey, which almost every Englishman of

middle rank has travelled since, there might have been more

instructive, but few more entertaining, companions than Mrs. Major

O'Dowd. "Talk about kenal boats; my dear! Ye should see the kenal

boats between Dublin and Ballinasloe. It's there the rapid travelling

is; and the beautiful cattle. Sure me fawther got a goold medal (and

his Excellency himself eat a slice of it, and said never was finer mate

in his loif) for a four-year-old heifer, the like of which ye never saw

in this country any day." And Jos owned with a sigh, "that for good

streaky beef, really mingled with fat and lean, there was no country

like England."

"Except Ireland, where all your best mate comes from," said the Major's

lady; proceeding, as is not unusual with patriots of her nation, to

make comparisons greatly in favour of her own country. The idea of

comparing the market at Bruges with those of Dublin, although she had

suggested it herself, caused immense scorn and derision on her part.

"I'll thank ye tell me what they mean by that old gazabo on the top of

the market-place," said she, in a burst of ridicule fit to have brought

the old tower down. The place was full of English soldiery as they

passed. English bugles woke them in the morning; at nightfall they

went to bed to the note of the British fife and drum: all the country

and Europe was in arms, and the greatest event of history pending: and

honest Peggy O'Dowd, whom it concerned as well as another, went on

prattling about Ballinafad, and the horses in the stables at

Glenmalony, and the clar't drunk there; and Jos Sedley interposed about

curry and rice at Dumdum; and Amelia thought about her husband, and how

best she should show her love for him; as if these were the great

topics of the world.

Those who like to lay down the History-book, and to speculate upon what

MIGHT have happened in the world, but for the fatal occurrence of what

actually did take place (a most puzzling, amusing, ingenious, and

profitable kind of meditation), have no doubt often thought to

themselves what a specially bad time Napoleon took to come back from

Elba, and to let loose his eagle from Gulf San Juan to Notre Dame. The

historians on our side tell us that the armies of the allied powers

were all providentially on a war-footing, and ready to bear down at a

moment's notice upon the Elban Emperor. The august jobbers assembled at

Vienna, and carving out the kingdoms of Europe according to their

wisdom, had such causes of quarrel among themselves as might have set

the armies which had overcome Napoleon to fight against each other, but

for the return of the object of unanimous hatred and fear. This

monarch had an army in full force because he had jobbed to himself

Poland, and was determined to keep it: another had robbed half Saxony,

and was bent upon maintaining his acquisition: Italy was the object of

a third's solicitude. Each was protesting against the rapacity of the

other; and could the Corsican but have waited in prison until all these

parties were by the ears, he might have returned and reigned

unmolested. But what would have become of our story and all our

friends, then? If all the drops in it were dried up, what would become

of the sea?




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