Which in silence extracted its virtue forbidden,
Fill up, there's a fire in some hearts I could name,
Which may work too its charm though as lawless and hidden.
So drink of the cup—for oh! there's a spell in
Its every drop 'gainst the ills of mortality;
Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Helen,
Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality."
A PRESENT.
Amongst my convivial friends in Mayo, I expressed my regret that the liquor which I enjoyed so much in their festive society was almost unknown and unattainable in Dublin. In two or three weeks after my return home, I received an anonymous note, stating that a box would be delivered at the Head Police Office, directed to me, and advising that I should not have it opened by any other hands but my own. The box arrived, and was treated according to the suggestion. It contained two jars, each holding two gallons of "the reality." A flat bottle was frequently filled, and conveyed, in my breast-pocket, "to enliven such hearts as I wished to bring together;" but at last I found that the jars were nearly empty. About half a pint remained, and it was never drank. I was aware that the next day was fixed for the hearing of a number of complaints preferred for the evasion or violation of excise laws. I directed the office-attendant to wash and thoroughly cleanse the inkstands, which were on the public table, for the use of parties prosecuting or defending, and to bring the glasses to me. I procured some ink powder, on which I put the remaining portion of the Mayo "philter," and supplied the stands with excellent ink, well suited for transcribing a strong charge or a spirited defence. It was not inodorous, and I was greatly amused by hearing the excise officers frequently observing to their superior and to their solicitor, that "they smelt illicit spirits." Mr. Morewood and Mr. Stormont also recognised the peculiar smell, and formed various conjectures; but none of the persons engaged ever imagined that the ink in their pens was made upon potteen. Immediately after the termination of the excise cases, one of my colleagues had the inkstands emptied and replenished with the ordinary ink. He said that "it was a fair joke on the gaugers, but when they were gone he could not submit to be tantalised by the smell without any chance of enjoying the taste."