First then, said I to myself, the table was _not_ broken on the Irishman's head; it was smashed by the Welshman's _foot_--and it was _not_ "_two_ dreadful _Irishmen_," but _one_, who had been engaged in the fray, and he was insulted; therefore, at the most, ONLY ONE HALF OF THE STORY IS TRUE! _And in about that proportion have I since found almost all the stories and charges against the lower class of my unhappy countrymen_--and so will others too, who please to investigate facts. * * * * * Amongst my earliest introductions to "London Society" was "St. Giles's." Notwithstanding the warnings of my friends, as to the danger attendant even on a walk through its streets, I ventured a little farther; and who ever may have suffered there, I have not, except from witnessing the almost indescribable misery of its inhabitants. Throughout my entire search into its wretchedness, I never received even an uncivil answer but on one occasion, and I am the more desirous to state this fact, because, although "St. Giles" sounds to English ears as a spot _contaminated_ by the abode of Irish only, I found many and many an Englishman there, as wretched as my own wretched countrymen. In the instance I allude to, I had entered the first lobby in one of the houses of a most miserable street, where I saw a woman "rocking" in the manner the lower class of Irish express silent agony of feeling. Her body moved back and forward in that peculiar motion which told to my heart she was in misery; and entering the room in silent respect for her suffering, I forgot to knock or make any noise to attract attention. In a moment a figure darted from the side of a bed behind the door, and having caught up something as it passed between me and the entrance, he, for I then saw my assailant was a man, brandished the "miserable remains" of a kitchen poker before my face, and demanded, "_What did I want, and how da-ar I come there to throuble thim with my curosity?_" And what right had I to pry into their miseries, unless to relieve them? I confess my object in visiting St. Giles's then, had not arisen from so pure a motive, and I felt the justice of his demand--The miseries of the heart are sacred amongst the rich: why should they not be equally so amongst the poor? Nature has made original feeling alike in all; but the poor feel more deeply; for the rich suffer in heart midst countless luxuries and efforts from others to wean them from their sufferings, while the poor suffer midst numberless privations, and almost utter loneliness. Why then should I have "_throubled thim with my curosity_?"