but sufficiently near to bring my friend Tom at once to meet me, who immediately congratulated me on my fortune in coming off so well, for that the person who preceded me, Mr. Jones Blennerhasset, had been just announced as Mr. Blatherhasit—­a change the gentleman himself was not disposed to adopt—­“But come along, Harry, while we are waiting for Daly, let me make you known to some of our party; this, you must know, is a boarding-house, and always has some capital fun—­queerest people you ever met—­I have only one hint—­cut every man, woman, and child of them, if you meet them hereafter—­I do it myself, though I have lived here these six months.”  Pleasant people, thought I, these must be, with whom such a line is advisable, much less practicable.

“Mrs. Clanfrizzle, my friend Mr. Lorrequer; thinks he’ll stay the summer in town.  Mrs. Clan—­, should like him to be one of us.”  This latter was said sotto voce, and was a practice he continued to adopt in presenting me to his several friends through the room.

Miss Riley, a horrid old fright, in a bird of paradise plume, and corked eyebrows, gibbetted in gilt chains and pearl ornaments, and looking as the grisettes say, “superbe en chrysolite”—­“Miss Riley, Captain Lorrequer, a friend I have long desired to present to you—­fifteen thousand a-year and a baronetcy, if he has sixpence”—­sotto again.  “Surgeon M’Culloch—­he likes the title,” said Tom in a whisper—­“Surgeon, Captain Lorrequer.  By the by, lest I forget it, he wishes to speak to you in the morning about his health; he is stopping at Sandymount for the baths; you could go out there, eh!” The tall thing in green spectacles bowed, and acknowledged Tom’s kindness by a knowing touch of the elbow.  In this way he made the tour of the room for about ten minutes, during which brief space, I was according to the kind arrangements of O’Flaherty, booked as a resident in the boarding-house—­a lover to at least five elderly, and three young ladies—­a patient—­a client—­a second in a duel to a clerk in the post-office—­and had also volunteered (through him always) to convey, by all of his Majesty’s mails, as many parcels, packets, band-boxes, and bird-cages, as would have comfortably filled one of Pickford’s vans.  All this he told me was requisite to my being well received, though no one thought much of any breach of compact subsequently, except Mrs. Clan—­herself.  The ladies had, alas! been often treated vilely before; the doctor had never had a patient; and as for the belligerent knight of the dead office, he’d rather die than fight any day.

The last person to whom my friend deemed it necessary to introduce me, was a Mr. Garret Cudmore, from the Reeks of Kerry, lately matriculated to all the honors of freshmanship in the Dublin university.  This latter was a low-sized, dark-browed man, with round shoulders, and particularly long arms, the disposal of which seemed sadly to distress him.  He possessed the most perfect brogue I ever listened to; but it