THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER
[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]
Dublin
MDCCCXXXIX.
Though the title page has no author's name inscribed, this work is generally attributed to Charles James Lever. Harry Lorrequer was a young officer in a British regiment stationed in Ireland in the early 1800's. The 1839 First Edition had pages too stained and friable for scanning—so a colleague, Mary Munarin, helped prepare this eBook for Project Gutenberg in the old fashioned way—she typed it! This story will be a delight to any readers with a few drops of Irish blood (or a wee drop of the Old Bushmills) in their veins.
[The Inn at Munich]
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A crowd is a mob, if composed even of bishops
And some did pray—who never prayed before
Annoyance of her vulgar loquacity
Enjoy the name without the gain
Enough is as good as a feast
Fighting like devils for conciliation
Has but one fault, but that fault is a grand one
Hating each other for the love of God
He was very much disguised in drink
How ingenious is self-deception
My English proves me Irish
Mistaking zeal for inclination
Mistaking your abstraction for attention
Rather a dabbler in the "ologies"
The tone of assumed compassion
That "to stand was to fall,"
That land of punch, priests, and potatoes
What will not habit accomplish
"We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps—
Long twenty-fours—short culverins and mortars—
Condemn'd the 'Horse Guards' for a set of raps,
And cursed our fate at being in such quarters.
Some smoked, some sighed, and some were heard to snore;
Some wished themselves five fathoms 'neat the Solway;
And some did pray—who never prayed before—
That they might get the 'route' for Cork or Galway."
