throstle instead of the hurdy-gurdy, to see the sun instead of the smoke, and to smell the roses instead of the corduroy. I drove him to see the great oaks of the Shire Wood,-Sherwood Forest, as it is now called,—and he could only sigh his admiration. Presently he opened his pocket sketch-book, and put a point on his pencil, but he turned from one bit of loveliness to another as he sauntered on, and soon he closed his book in a kind of profound but calm resignation. Much too beautiful for work,' he said, 'I can do no work to-day.' So we sat 'mid the bracken and drank in that delicious air, 'quite as pure in flavour, and reasonable in cost, although not quite so wholesome, as—the still champagne at the Garrick!' Next day, I remember, I had a garden-party, to do homage to the king of artists and the queen of flowers. His majesty was delighted with her majesty, and he was perfectly happy in helping us to arrange the profusion of roses and other flowers sent in for table decoration. Some of my guests were, I think, a little disappointed at first to see the man whom they had so long associated and identified with Punch, in the ordinary clothes of society, instead of in gay habiliments, and were vexed to find that he had left his hump and the larger moiety of his nose at home; but all accounted it an honour to touch that beneficent hand. And nothing could exceed the king's affability-specially to the pretty girls. Some of them wore their sweetest smiles, with an evident expectation of having their portraits taken for the future admiration of the world, and the kindliness with which the great artist noticed and encouraged their little efforts was beautiful to see, save to one young man of a sullen temperament, who, after watching the idol of his heart, 'making up,' as he termed it, to J. L. with all her fascinations, retired into a shrubbery to smoke, and murmured a desire (mercifully qualifying his wrath with humour) to 'punch that fellow's head!' All others admired, and I shall never forget the perplexity, the mixture of amusement and annoyance upon his countenance, when one of them, with more heart than head, and slightly heightened as with wine, jocund, and boon, began to praise him with a loud enthusiasm, and to address him as 'the delight of the nation.' That evening he told me, when our guests were fled, our garlands dead, and all but he departed, that he thought of refreshing himself with a fortnight's holiday in Ireland-would I go with him. As Ireland was not then the calm, peaceful, happy, loyal, united country which it now is, or rather, is going to be in a few days, when the Government has made its arrangements, as there were some unpleasantnesses between the landlords and the tenants, together with some little reserve and stiffness between the Catholics and the Protestants, brought on by the intemperate use of whisky and loaded guns, it seemed my duty to go and settle these misunderstandings (as every Englishman so well knows how to do), and, accordingly, I resolved to accompany him; and though next morning my resolution shook in its shoes, when, just as he was leaving me, he said, 'You must write your impressions, and I will illustrate,' I fortified myself with the fact that nobody much heeds the description at a good diorama, and that if I broke down in my small comedy, his scenery and dresses would still make it a success; and so with a light heart and a heavy portmanteau I made ready to sail. IV. Mr. John Deane, who had been long in Ireland, as one of the Royal Commissioners, in the terrible time of the famine, kindly drew out a route which enabled us to see a great deal in a brief space or time-Dublin, Galway, the wild grandeur of Connemara, the scenery of the Shannon from Athlone to Limerick, the gentle loveliness of Killarney, the miniature prettiness of Glengarriff, 'that beautiful city called Cork,' and its suburbs, in little more than a fortnight. Moreover, we had ample time thoroughly to enjoy that which we saw, not acting on the principle of that Cockney tourist whom dear old Waterton, the naturalist, met in Belgium, and who boasted that he 'had knocked off thirteen churches that morning,' but going leisurely, like large butterflies from flower to flower, and resting on them, till we knew them well. In fact, you cannot hurry in Ireland, there is something in the humid atmosphere and in the habits and demeanour of the people which ignores haste. Ah me, how happy we were! Looking from the steamer at the calm phosphorescent waves (so thankful they were calm, for we were miserable mariners, though Leech had represented himself in a letter as revelling in stormy seas), or gliding along the rails, or riding in cars, or rowing in boats, listening to quaint carmen, oarsmen, and guides, talking and laughing in genial converse with each other, or silent in serene fruition of the exquisite scenery around-silent in perfect sympathy, one of the surest signs, and one of the purest delights of a true friendship! There are so many worthy. folks who are afraid you will be dull if they don't go on gently buzzing into your ear, and there are so many unenlightened folks to whom, upon, the same kindly principles, we consider it our duty to buz. But in all our easy and placid enjoyment, Leech never forgot his art. There was constantly a lovely bit of expression upon the face of nature, animate or inanimate, or there was something which he had never been able to get quite right, or something 1 See pen-and-ink sketch of John Leech as the jolly tar, by himself, on next page. |