"The Irish naïveté of the innkeeper's daughter made such an agreeable impression on me, that on my return to her father's inn I scarcely talked to anybody else, and thus won her good graces. She had never quitted her native mountains, and was as ignorant of the world as it is possible to conceive. I asked her, in jest, if she would go with me to Cork. 'Oh no,' said she, 'I should be afraid to go so far with you. Do tell me now who you really are: You are a Jew--_that_ I know already.' 'Why, are you mad?' said I; 'what makes you think I must be a Jew?' 'Ah, you can't deny it; haven't you a black beard all round your chin, and five or six gold rings on your fingers?' My disclaimer was of no use. At last, however, she said good-humouredly, that if I positively would not allow that I was one, she wished at least that I might 'become as rich as a Jew,' (an English phrase.) I confirmed this with a Christian 'Amen!'" Barring the last bit of blasphemy, this is a laughable page. We only ask, whether any prince, who had not the mind of a duck, would record such an adventure as this? Another bar-maid--another pot-girl--and she to whom he exclusively devoted his attentions, to set him down for a Jew, and not to be convinced to the contrary! Where were his "people"--where the evidence to counteract this calumny? The mere nastiness of encouraging a tuft of unseemly hair under his chin could hardly have led the girl to this conclusion. The second volume presents us with a series of visits to Protestant country gentlemen, whose manners and dinners he derides, and whose wives and daughters are talked of as "imbecile bigots," because they "remember the Sabbath-day, and keep it holy,"--interspersed with scenes on which his highness dwells with more satisfaction, but of which we regret to find we can afford but few specimens. At Cashel he passes several of his _white_ days, chiefly, of course, in the company of persons unconnected with the "stupid, dull, Anglican system." _Inter alia_, he is invited by "the Catholic dean to meet the archbishop and sixteen other clergymen at dinner." "The table did honour to a chaplain of the Holy Father.... The conversation then turned on religious subjects, and was in a perfectly free and partial spirit: never did I perceive the least trace of bigotry, or of the disgusting affectation of puritanical rigour. At the dessert, several sang their national songs, some of which had no pretension to sanctity. As the one who sat next me remarked some little surprise on my countenance, he said in my ear, 'Here we forget the foreign * * * * the archbishop, and the priest,--at table we are only gentlemen, and to enjoy ourselves.'"--Vol. ii., pp. 47, 48.