"_Egregious_ Dame! thine ear benignly bend, And to the Muse of Kerry kindly lend Attention meet, while he shall aptly sing, And from Apollo's lyre soft music bring. The _ægis_ of thy sweet protection grant, While to thy praise he tunes harmonious chaunt. Glory of England! here we gladly see, Renowned epitome arrived in thee. &c. &c. &c." The rude figure who met my eyes on gaining the house, gave a finish to the poetical treat; and, certainly, in all my travels I have never seen a person less formed by nature or art to captivate _the nine_, than this votary of the Castalian choir. He is a man of about sixty, of Bardolphian physiognomy, who, I rather imagine, is much more frequently indebted for the fire of inspiration to a glass of whiskey, than to the fountain of Helicon. A large, battered tin snuff-box also contributed its aid to enliven those numbers "Which warm from the still, and faithful to its fires," were dealt out with equal readiness and prodigality to all who looked as if they were inclined to purchase Parnassian fame; and the same snuff-box supplied a substitute for sand, with which ever and anon, the bard sprinkled his effusions. Fancy a large, obtuse red face, curled head, rough coat, of dark brown cloth, fastened with a cord round his waist; a hat full of holes, an ink bottle cased over with a _surtout_ of pack-thread, and tied at a button-hole; a pen stuck behind one ear, and a roll of the coarsest description of paper sticking out of his bosom, and you have before you as much of poet Connor as I shall give till you see his fac simile admirably sketched by Fanny's pencil in my journal. Mrs. Fitzroy and I, whose perfections had been "theme of song," gave half a crown each to the verse-vender, and received another scolding from old Bentley for encouraging these idlers, who, he says, truly enough I believe, are amongst the most worthless part of the community. We then dispersed, and went our several ways, for the first time since the "_English foreigners_" had been at Glenalta without saying when shall we meet again? I am melancholy I confess. My heart is full, as the hour of my departure advances. The last week has brought me more intimately acquainted than ever with the excellence from which I must tear myself; and I am sorrowful in proportion as I compare the feelings which I brought to Ireland with those which now on the eve of separation over-whelm me, as I bid farewell to this happy abode of all that is best and brightest. Where shall I look for such affection; where seek such disinterested kindness, mental improvement, and variety of pleasurable excitement, as I have found in this charming spot, which I nicknamed Blue-stocking Hall, and believed to be a centre in which pedantry, dullness, affectation, and presumption, had agreed to meet and lodge together?