"If but a single column of the once astonishing Pæstum now survived the decay of time and the barbarism of man, would you suffer incredulity to take her stand amid the ruins, and fulminate her tasteless anathemas from the very scene of whilom greatness? _We_ only crave a measure of the same candour which you liberally employ on other occasions. Let our round towers and cromlechs, our castles and abbeys, be allowed in evidence of our not being a nation just sprung from the sea; and suffer our annals and chronicles to be received in testimony of our having sent forth pious and learned men, when less favoured countries sought our assistance. Come now, and I will shew you a fine Saxon arch in this wee island." As we moved on towards the ruin, we found some of our party gazing on the lake below, from a little rocky eminence on which they were seated, and here we caught Mrs. Fitzroy and old Bentley in furious debate. He is an odd sort of _restive_ old fellow; sharp, clear sighted, and very bitter in his remarks; but withal good-natured, and, though rough, by no means implacable. Mrs. Fitzroy had been, I suppose, expressing some sentiment in favour of the Irish peasantry, perhaps in praise of the Herculean M'Carty; for just as we reached the spot where the antagonists were contending, Bentley exclaimed with stentorian vehemence, "Madam, I tell you that they are rascals, one and all. It is a mere fiction to talk of the Irish as you do. I know them better. They are a cringing lying race; and as to your admired M'Carty More, he is a drunken dissolute dog; and you spoil him by letting him prate for your diversion." "Upon my word, Mr. Bentley," answered his adversary, "your abuse is wholesale, and spreads over too large a surface to cut deeply. I do not agree with you; and I repeat, that such is my preference for the people of this country, that I shall beg my friends Mrs. Douglas and Mr. Otway to be on the look out for a cottage to suit me in their vicinity at Glenalta." "No, no, madam, you will do no such thing," retorted the cynic; "you are acting more wisely. Believe me, that the most knowing people are those who _travel about, if society be their object_. By change of place, you come in for the best of every stage at which you halt. You skim the cream as it were, and ought never to rest long enough any where to alter your opinions of people, very few of whom, be assured, will stand the test of intimacy. There is nothing truer than that Alexander was no hero to his valet-de-chambre, and the maxim applies as forcibly to nations as to individuals. You will tire of us, if you know us better, and look back upon your present judgment as mere poetry. Every oyster is made up of the fish and its shells. Swallow the one and get rid of the others as fast as you can: they are not worth keeping, and you will do well to throw them away."