Mr. Aldridge set out en route to Ballina, being eager, notwithstanding the dreadful snow-storm, to fulfil his engagements there; his postilion, however, mistaking the proper direction, drove directly for Swinford, and it was only when about eight miles from this town that Mr. Aldridge ascertained his position and had to return again to Castlebar. Unfortunately, when he had reached opposite Windsor, his carriage was overset and he himself flung over into the snow. He was, however, together with his party, freed from his awkward situation without any injury greater than arose from his immersion, and he set out to Ballina on Sunday by the mail.

While taking an evening stroll on one occasion through the quaint locality known as Liberty, he happened by a dairy situated on a thoroughfare called the Coombe. The pathos of sweet woman's effective organ of warfare, attuned to a shrill and contentious pitch, arrested his attention, and caused him to turn his eyes and look within as he passed. The glance discovered a noble specimen of “the finest peasantry in the world” in a seemingly gross state of inebriety, vainly endeavoring to steady himself by partially leaning back against a counter near the door; while further within, stood she of the mellow voice, with arms akimbo, and whose fl ow of language, more rapid than elegant, proclaimed her a wife, roundly berating her recreant lord and master for squandering their hard earnings upon whisky and boon companions.