This triumphal car was followed, or surrounded, by a host of beaux; some in military uniform, and with true English faces and figures; but the greater number in the civil, though uncivilized, dress of the day, and with forms and physiognomies as Irish as ever were exhibited in Pale or Palatine, to the dread of English settlers and Scotch undertakers.  Ponderous powdered clubs, hanging from heads of dishevelled hair—­shoulders raised or stuffed to an Atlas height and breadth—­the stoop of paviers, and the lounge of chairmen—­broad beavers, tight buckskins, the striped vest of a groom, and the loose coat of a coachman, gave something ruffianly to the air of even the finest figures, which assorted but too well with the daring, dashing manner, that just then had succeeded, among a particular set, to the courtly polish for which the travelled nobility of Ireland were once so distinguished.  Such, in exterior, were many of the members of the famous Cherokee Club, and such the future legislators of that great national indignity, which had procured them a contemptible pre-eminence in the black book of public opinion, by the style and title of the “Union Lords.”  As they now crowded round the cynosures of the day, there was something too ardent and unrestrained in their homage, something too emphatic in their expressions and gestures, for true breeding; while in their handsome, but “light, revelling, and protesting faces,” traces of the night’s orgies were still visible, which gave their fine features a licentious cast, and deprived their open and very manly countenances of every mark of intellectual expression.—­Lady Morgan’s “O’Briens and O’Flahertys."

* * * * *

THE WEE MAN.

  It was a merry company. 
    And they were just afloat,
  When lo! a man of dwarfish span
    Came up and hail’d the boat.

  “Good morrow to ye, gentle folks,
    And will you let me in? 
  A slender space will serve my case,
    For I am small and thin.”

  They saw he was a dwarfish man,
    And very small and thin;
  Not seven such would matter much,
    And so they took him in.

  They laugh’d to see his little hat,
    With such a narrow brim;
  They laugh’d to note his dapper coat,
    With skirts so scant and trim.

  But barely had they gone a mile,
    When, gravely, one and all,
  At once began to think the man
    Was not so very small.

  His coat had got a broader skirt,
    His hat a broader brim,
  His leg grew stout, and soon plump’d out
    A very proper limb.

  Still on they went, and as they went
    More rough the billows grew,—­
  And rose and fell, a greater swell,
    And he was swelling too!

  And lo! where room had been for seven,
    For six there scarce was space! 
  For five!—­for four!—­for three!—­not more
    Than two could find a place!