Is it fancy, or am I right in supposing that English officials have a manner specially assumed for Ireland and the Irish,--a thing like the fur cloak a man wears in Russia, or the snowshoes he puts on in Lapland, not intended for other latitudes, but admirably adapted for the locality it is made for? I will not insist that this theory of mine is faultless, but I appeal to a candid public of my own countrmen if they have not in their experience seen what may support it. I do not say it is a bad manner,--a presuming manner,--a manner of depreciation towards these it is used to, or a manner indicative of indifference in him who uses it. I simply say that they who employ it keep it as especially for Ireland as they keep their macintosh capes for wet weather, and would no more think of displaying it in England than they would go to her Majesty's levee in a shooting-jacket. Mr. Balfour was not wanting in this manner. Indeed, the Administration of which he formed a humble part were all proficients in it. It was a something between a mock homage and a very jocular familiarity, so that when he arose after a bow, deep and reverential enough for the presence of majesty, he lounged over to a chair and threw himself down with the ease and unconcern of one perfectly at home. “And how is my Lady? and how are the fourscore and one associations for turnkeys' widows and dog-stealers' orphans doing? What 's the last new thing in benevolence? Do tell me, for I 've won five shillings at loo, and want to invest it.” “You mean you have drawn your quarter's salary, Mr. Balfour.” “No, by Jove; they don't pay us so liberally. We have the run of our teeth and no more.” “You forget your tongue, sir; you are unjust.” “Why, my Lady, you are as quick as Sir William himself; living with that great wit has made you positively dangerous.” “I have not enjoyed over-much of the opportunity you speak of.” “Yes, I know that; no fault of yours, though. The world is agreed on that point. I take it he's about the most impossible man to live with the age has yet produced. Sewell has told me such things of him!--things that would be incredible if I had not seen him.” “I beg pardon for interrupting, but of course you have not come to dilate on the Chief Baron's defects of temper to his wife.” “No, only incidentally,--parenthetically, as one may say,--just as one knocks over a hare when he's out partridge-shooting.” “Never mind the hare, then, sir; keep to your partridges.” “My partridges! my partridges! which are my partridges? Oh, to be sure! I want to talk to you about Sewell. He has told you perhaps how ill we have behaved to him,--grossly, shamefully ill, I call it.” “He has told me that the Government object to his having this appointment, but he has not explained on what ground.”