O'Nale has made up her mind not to see any more strangers, I do assure you, Sirr."

But I am not a stranger," urged the gentleman; "and if you would kindly tell her that Mr. Moore wishes to see her—"

"More?

More ?" reiterated Mr. O'Neil, “I raelly don't remimber my daughter ever mintioning such a name ;-More! More !—no ;-I'm sure she doesn't know ye, Sirr."

"Mr. Thomas Moore;" urged the petitioner.

"Oh, it's no matter whether its Thomas or Jack," interrupted Mr. O'Neil, brusquely; "Miss O'Nale's done all she can for her distrissed counthrymen, I do assure you, Mr. More; therefore your seeing her would do no good, and so I hope you'll take an answer."

Mr. Moore, amused, yet unwilling through an evident misconception of his errand to lose the pleasure he came in quest of, still urged his belief that Miss O'Neil would admit him if she was aware of his call.

Sirr," replied Mr. Neil with great ill humour, you raelly must excuse me; I can't allow my daughter to be troubled with any more of her necessitous counthrymen, so good day;" and he was retreating when Mr. Moore, smiling, replied—

"I think, Mr. O'Neil, you mistake the object of my visit; I really have no undue favour to ask; 1 only request that my name may be carried up to Miss O'Neil, and, perhaps," added the supplicant, after a

moment's reflection, "Mr. O'Neil, you will better understand who I am if I mention that I am called Anacreon-Moore."

What? A-nac-nac-Anacreon? Och!" exclaimed Mr. O'Nale, in accents of incredulity and derision, "You've done it, now, Misther More; I'll undertake to say there niver was such a name as Anacreon in all Ireland since the world began!"

At this crisis, fortunately for Mr. Moore's object in coming, Mr. O'Nale's graceful daughter descended the stair-case, and immediately recognizing the distinguished visiter who had done her the honour of a call, relieved him from the embarrassing equivoque, though she could not, at the moment, make her father clearly comprehend how so simple-mannered and unostentatious a little gentleman could be, in reality, so great a man as Miss O'Neil's reception clearly proved him to be.

PITT.

"Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, and did shake kingdoms?"

IN In my Husband's earliest years as a London actor, he cherished a strong desire to behold the great statesman Pitt; and, in the course of conversation one day with our early friend, General Phipps, referring

to this desire, he promised Mr. Mathews that his longing should be gratified, for he would, he said, ask him to dinner on some occasion when he expected the great man at his table. For a time some difficulty was found in arranging the matter to suit all parties-my Husband having to perform at the Haymarket nightly. However, on the demise of the Duke of Gloucester in 1804 or 5, the theatres were closed until after the interment, and a day was arranged for the promised treat, but to the actor's chagrin, the royal funeral taking place sooner than expected, the theatres were reopened on the very evening fixed for the dinner, and all hope of the gratification intended was fading, when it was suggested by my Husband's kind inviter that he could perhaps manage to reach his, the General's house, after the theatre closed, and as the dinner hour was a late one, arrive in time to catch, at least a glimpse of Mr. Pitt, before the party broke up. As soon therefore as the green curtain dropped, my Husband hastened to receive the delight he anticipated—namely, to behold the most extraordinary political genius of England, and listen to his accents, prepared to treasure up in memory every word that fell from the eloquent lips of the great politician; and it was not without a sensation something approaching to awe, that the actor followed the servant, who ushered him into the dining-room where the party still remained, though nearly midnight; for like Norval

"Never before stood he in such a presence

But as he entered, he was startled by a crash of something breaking, followed by a suppressed titter, and he found the table in great disorder, the guests silent, the General grave, and the candles burning blue; the new guest looked a little blue also at the constrained, nay vexed, manner with which his heretofore warm and cordial host received him, and who, without a word of welcome, pointed to the chair just placed for him by the servant.

My Husband's eye glanced from face to face in the fear that he was too late to behold the only one he came to see, and having hastily scanned each countenance, his quick eye, long familiar with Gilray's and other likenesses of the Prime Minister, could not fail to recognize, though in a haze, in the sharp features of the long slim personage seated at the top of the table-the political guiding star of Britain, the great son of the great Chatham, the dignified statesman, the observed of all observers— undisturbed by the entrance of the new guestgravely, and even thoughtfully employed in collecting the wine-glasses within his reach, and piling them one upon another as high as they could ballance, and then with the fragments of the desert pelting them down into pieces (the crash and suppressed mirth heard by my Husband at his entrée · being occasioned by the destruction of the first batch) and not till all the glasses upon the table were-in auctioneer's phrase-showed up, did the mighty perpetrator think of desisting. He then arose with

something like an effort, and with a silent bow to his host, not very steadily withdrew, accompanied by two of the gentlemen present.

The much annoyed General then explained to my Husband that the scene he had just witnessed of the self-diversion of his illustrious guest was not infrequently the result of his having suffered too much of the "molten ruby" to pass his lips, as on the present occasion, when he taxed his hospitable entertainers in the manner described.

This was the only time my Husband saw this great man, who died, I believe, shortly after.

MARTIN OF GALWAY.

EXPECTING, one day, a dinner party at Ivy Cottage, two of our friends in town were stepping into their carriage, for the purpose of joining it, when Mr. Martin came up to make a call; and finding himself too late for his object, he entered their carriage, and begged to drive with them a short time, in order to chat a little.

Finding him apparently unconscious of the distance he was going, Mr. Richard Wilson at length reminded him that he and Mrs. Wilson were proceeding out of town to dinner,--and enquired whether they should