“‘To h—l, I hope.’
“I will give you another illustration,” continued Mr. Lever, “of how determinedly the lower order of my countrymen disparage anything and everything English. I was invited to spend some days with the late Lord Carlisle, twice your Lord Lieutenant, at Castle Howard, in Yorkshire. I had at that time an Irish servant, a son of Corny Delany, to whom grumbling was chronic. As we drove through the magnificent avenue beneath the extending branches of giant oaks and lordly elms, I observed to my follower: ‘What do you think of those trees?’
“‘I see thim.’
“‘Are they not splendid?’
“‘Och! threes is threes anywhere.’
“‘But the Howards are proud of these trees; they are the finest in England. Lord Carlisle sets great store by them.’
“‘Arrah, thin, why wudn’t he have the hoighth av fine threes? Shure hadn’t he the pick av the Phaynix Park?’
“I was dining with Judge —— on Sunday, who, as you know, is a very diminutive, shrivelled-up-looking little man,” continued Mr. Lever, “and he told me an amusing story. When attorney-general, he purchased an estate in Tipperary near Clonmel. Shortly after the purchase he resolved upon paying the place a visit to take a look at his recent acquisition. As he was proceeding with his agent through a boreen which led to mearings of his property, he overheard the following conversation between two old women:
“‘Wisha, thin, d’ye tell me that’s the new landlord, Missis Mulligan?’
“‘Sorra a lie in it, ma’am.’