although nearly twice that of England, and that in fact each person on an average in Scotland drinks twice as much whiskey as each person in Ireland. The following statement from the "Statistical Journal" for January, 1838, will, however, show that this is really the case. The following is stated as the population and number of gallons of spirits consumed in each of the three countries :

Population,

England. 13,897,187

12,341,238

Ireland.

7,767,401

12,293,464

Scotland.

2,365,114

6,767,715

Gallons of spirits, So the average number of pints of spirits drank by each person in England is 7 and 1-9th; in Ireland, 13; in Scotland, 23!

In questions relating to this subject, persons have been led to most erroneous conclusions, in consequence of omitting some important data in their calculation. Thus Martin Doyle says, "in 1832 there were consumed in Ireland very nearly ten millions of gallons, which going through the hands of the retailers made about fourteen millions of gallons, the cost of which—mind, too, a voluntary taxamounted to six million three hundred thousand pounds. seventy years ago, half a million of gallons was considered a frightful quantity; and now we have twenty-eight times as much, although the increase of the population bears no proportion to that consumption. This is an awful fact, and one that should awaken us all to the consequences of such intemperance." This statement is

About

satisfactorily answered, however, by MacCulloch. He says, it might appear from a superficial view as if the consumption of spirits in Ireland had been nearly trebled since 1823, when the quantity used was rather over three millions of gallons, while in 1832 it was nearly nine, according to the Parliamentary returns of the quantity which had paid the duties of Excise for home consumption; but, in point of fact, the consumption has not in any degree increased. The reduction of the duties substituted legal for illegal distillation, and freed the country from the perjuries and other atrocities that grew out of the previous system; but it would be wholly erroneous to say that it increased drunkenness. The Commissioners, who had the best means of obtaining accurate information, estimated the consumption of spirits in Ireland in 1823 at ten millions of gallons, though the returns showed little more than three!

Under any circumstances, however, it is lamentable that such immense sums should be expended on a luxury of the kind, in a country where the people have frequently but a potato between them and starvation. I have been informed by a gentleman, on whose information I can place all reliance (Mr. Hewat), that in the little town of Kilrush the people actually pay more for whiskey than they do for rent! But this is hardly worse than the following fact, asserted by Dr. Massey, the editor of the "New York Commercial Advertiser," and which is corroborated by more than one gentleman who has visited New York, and to whom I have mentioned the circumstance. Dr. Massey states, after going through a calculation to prove the correctness of his assertion, "that a little attention to the subject discloses the painful and disgusting fact, that in the clearheaded,sharp-sighted, money-making city of New York, the inhabitants pay more annually for tobacco than they do for bread !” They smoke and eat it morning, noon, and night-merchants and trades-men, citizens and gentlemen!

Calculations on the average quantity of spirits consumed by each person in a country can only be received as affording a general idea of the comparative temperance of different countries, since some persons will drink none, while others take a double portion. This is undoubtedly the case in Ireland, and the quantity consumed by some individuals almost exceeds belief. Mr. Doyle says, in the address already alluded to, "I know several persons, coal-porters, in a neighbouring town, who drink perhaps a quart of whiskey each every day, in drams at different times." A good story is told by Mr. Croker of the capability of another class of consumers. "It is difficult," says he, "to form a correct estimate of the quantity of whiskey-punch which may be comfortably discussed at a sitting. In the case of a gentleman whose life had been insured for a large sum of money, the payment at his death was resisted by the insurance company, on the ground that he had caused his death by excessive drinking. The matter came to a legal trial, and amongst other witnesses examined was one who swore that for the last eighteen years of his life he had been in the habit of taking every night four and-twenty tumblers of whiskey-punch! 'Recollect yourself, sir,' said the examining counsel. Four-andtwenty! You swear to that. Now, did you ever drink five-andtwenty?'-'I am on my oath,' replied the witness, and I will swear no further, for I never kept count beyond the two dozen; though there's no saying how many beyond I might drink to make myself comfortable ;-but that's my stint !"

However exaggerated and absurd such a story may appear to a temperate Englishman, and though probably highly coloured, I have little doubt myself but it had a good foundation. I have myself seen gentlemen who had drunk nine tumblers of punch in the course of an evening walk steadily home afterwards, and who could certainly have taken a few more "to make themselves comfortable." It is not every head, however, that will bear so strong potion; and the circumstances attending an Irishman's getting intoxicated with his favourite "punch" are so characteristic and amusing, that a few sentences must be devoted to the subject.

Premising that a gentleman's ordinary "stint" be seven tumblers, let me endeavour to record his progress through the field of Whiskey Elysium, till he has perfected his operations on the charmed number, which, like the seventh bullet in Der Freischutz, recoils upon himself.

We will suppose he enters the proper theatre for such an exhibition as ultimately ensues, "The Shades," with a friend or two in company; for an Irishman does not like to get drunk by himself. He first calls for "materials;" and although the word is open to a variety of meanings, the waiter understands his, and his wishes are obeyed accordingly. Three small glasses formed in the shape of pint-pots without handles, make their appearance, filled with a light-brownish-yellow-looking fluid this is "the crathur"-accompanied by a saucer, containing sundry lumps of sugar, three tumblers, with German-silver spoons, and an imitation "King's mark," and a jug of "bilin wather." These "the materials"-are distributed amongst the operators, and the first scene commences. Each of the party pops into his glass three of the lumps of sugar, on which is poured a quantity of water sufficient to fill the tumblers

three-fourths to the brim (or rather less, if the gentlemen like their punch "frisky"). Next is added the grand ingredient, the whiskey itself; and so well have the operators, from experience, calculated the calibre of the glasses, that when the spirit and water are mixed there is just sufficient room left to allow of the whole being stirred without spilling, and no more. The stir is given accordingly, and the punch is brewed.

The first and second tumblers that are taken do not produce many visible effects. They are engaged in undermining the fabric of intellect which is soon to fall. The gentleman who we will suppose to be the chief performer merely begins to feel "pleasant." If a smoker, he takes the short pipe-" the dudheen," which no gentleman sees anything discreditable in carrying,-from his pocket, and commences smoking, at the same time passing in review before his mind's eye all the jokes and pleasant sayings with which he may puzzle and amuse his friends. Towards the conclusion of the second tumbler the effects of his cogitations make their appearance. He perhaps points to some remarkably quiet, harmlesslooking gentleman in one corner, who has just dropped in to enjoy one tumbler, and asks his friend if he knows the " quare ruffian." Upon being answered in the negative, he explains that he is the man "who'd skin a flea for the hide and tallow, and never bury the bones afterwards," because he has not given the waiter the customary fee: or, perhaps our friend confines his observations to personal qualities of another kind,-such as remarking that a gentleman would have been a good deal handsomer if the principal feature of his face had been two inches shorter: or other pleasantries of a similar description. He concludes by expressing his firm conviction that the gent noticed by him is a strict Catholic, and wonders how he likes "ling" (salt-fish) in Lent. This is said in order to remind his friends of the unpleasant thirst caused by that article, and affords a fair excuse for

Glass the third. On taking this he becomes exceedingly witty, the bonds are now loosened that before bound his tongue, however slightly; and everything that can assist in producing fun, and raising a smile, are put under contribution by him. He commences, too, a series of practical jokes,-such as slipping the snuffers into his friend's pocket, so that he draws them forth with surprise when he seeks for his handkerchief-which our friend has placed on the back of a gentleman's chair at the next table. He drives down the cork of an empty ale-bottle, and then calls at the pitch of his voice for the waiter, and a cork-screw; and, with many similar manifestations of the potency of the whiskey, he contrives to make his friends laugh even if they are not so inclined, in a manner which none but an Irishman can effect.

At the fourth tumbler he becomes more sedate. Some of his tricks have reminded him of some friend; and in such circumstances an Irish gentleman looks upon the reputation of his friend as far dearer than his own. The friend is a paragon of perfection. He has even the look of a genius; and was actually mistaken for Dean Swift thirty years after the Dean had paid the debt of nature! and he is so witty that "he was held to bail for making a judge laugh when he was passing sentence in court."

When an Irishman begins to talk of his friends, it is impossible

to bring forward a Crichton who can equal them-in fact they are all unknown admirable Crichtons. They can talk better than any one else; they can laugh at the same rate; and as for fighting, "Och! murther! he'd like to see the man that could bate them anyhow?" and "Who can equal Michael Reilly, too, in singing the 'Angel's Whisper ?'" This reminds him that his friend might like to hear it; upon which he begins to hum a Dublin street-ballad, mistaking it for the "Angel's Whisper," and asks his friends if they ever heard that beautiful Irish melody. Without waiting for their reply, he breaks out into complete song, judiciously combining the words of some five or six for the sake of effect and novelty. Upon this, a gentleman at the next table, who, like the gentleman we are describing, has also reached his fourth tumbler, asks him "if he'd like to have Christchurch organ for an accompaniment?" This remark brings the song to an immediate conclusion. Fiery glances are exchanged, but the only result is a call for more materials from which the fifth tumbler of punch is manufactured, and our friend, who is a Tory, immediately rises to propose "The glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good King William, who saved us from Popery, brass money, and wooden shoes, and gave us leave to go out on Sundays! "* The toast on paper certainly assumes something of the appearance of a joke, from some of the expressions it contains; but it is regarded in a very different light at drinking-parties in Ireland. To the Conservative party it is a war-cry of triumph: to the Liberal party an insult of the most irritating nature. In the present instance, however, the toast passes unnoticed, except by the giver and his two friends; though, by the bye, such an occurrence may be regarded as an extraordinary one. Our friend gave the toast to show his perfect"contempt " of the gentleman who had interrupted his song, and whom he imagined to be a Liberal. Finding he has it all his own way, he calls to the waiter for his sixth tumbler and a pinch of snuff, to show in what light he regards the rejection of his challenge for such, on all occasions, the toast is considered. The waiter unfortunately has no snuff, and is accordingly honoured by a few of the most expressive cursings the gentleman can bestow, at the same time that he searches in his pocket for a penny to throw at him for his cursed impudence in having no snuff; not finding one, he substitutes a shilling, which, fortunately for the poor waiter, from the unsteadiness of the thrower's eye and arm, only strikes the wall. The waiter stands simpering for a moment or two; and after one or two waiter's smiles, politely picks the shilling up, puts it in his pocket, and immediately runs off to some other gentleman, who is calling at the top of his voice for more "materials.". A second waiter, however, happens to have a snuff-box for the use of the gentleman; but, in opening it, inhales a portion of its contents, and, being unused to the "fragrant weed" in the form of snuff, he sneezes. Upon which the gentleman stares at him for a moment with the filmy eye of a drunken man, and asks him "What he means by that?" at the same time rising to inflict summary punishment on the unfortunate object of his wrath. In endeavouring to do so, he stumbles against one of the "Liberals" at

The latter words allude to William having abolished the spurious money of James, and to his having been the first to do away with arrest for debt on Sundays.

the next table; who, being in no wise friendly disposed, pushes him to the other side. He immediately shouts out the "Glorious memory a second time; and the other party being now sufficiently heated by punch to resent the insult, immediately knocks him down. A single fight, I believe, never takes place in Ireland, when more than two persons are present, and of course, therefore, the gentleman's friend knocks down the other gentleman in return. Our friend's friend meets with a similar compliment from some other friend, and a general melée ensues. The fight becomes universal; for when an Irishman wants "devarsion" of this kind, he soon makes it for himself. Those who do not wish to fight receive one or two blows on the face from a man they have probably never seen before, and this at once determines the question whether they will fight or not; and a most terrific fight it soon becomes,-blows are dealt right and left, with sticks and chairs, fists and legs; tumblers are thrown, and wine-glasses follow; the lamps are broken, the glass is all smashed, the combatants are bruised and bleeding, and the general tumult is only stayed by the extinction of the lights, and the "physical force" of the waiters ;,who, as soon as they hear the glasses breaking, (knowing they will have to pay for them) become extremely active and vigilant, and being sober, which the others are not, they are very efficient, and so the tumult is subdued. As soon as it is over, our friend is seen at the bar of the tavern with the gentleman who first knocked him down, swearing eternal friendship, and drinking to future kindness in the seventh tumbler. A perfect Irish picture!

This by no means concludes the "devarsion" of the night; but the sketch has already been extended too much. It may merely be necessary to add, that as soon as the party reach the street, the spirit of fun, which had been succeeded by the spirit of mischief and fighting, again resumes its sway for a time. All kinds of practical jokes are projected and executed, such as those which would be the more especial delight of the Marquis of Waterford, who is a splendid example of "a fine young Irish gentleman;" but the conclusion of the night's adventures is invariably the same. A tumult in the street; an affray with the police; a few contusions and bruises; and either a compromise, an escape, or a lodging for the night in the police station-house.

I should not have made so long a story of the whiskey punch, but that the effects I have described appear to follow so naturally with an Irish gentleman. An abundance of wit and practical fun; a sudden transition to anger; a ludicrous sense of importance and dignity; an intense desire to support the honour of his friends or his party, and at last an invariable propensity to fight with whoever will afford him the opportunity. Indeed he does not always wait for that. The old joke of the Irishman's love of fighting is really no exaggeration. "Och! murther! Nine o'clock at Donnybrook fair, and devil a fight yet! Will any jontleman have the kindness to tread on the tail of my coat?"

When speaking of the ancient and enduring love of whiskey by the people of this country, I ought not to have omitted two or three illustrative anecdotes I have collected on the subject. In explanation of that part of the bard's address just quoted, where he says,