I remember, when grown up, dining with an elderly man near Cahirciveen, who had a turbot for which he must have paid at least eight shillings, but he apologised for not having a pudding on account of the necessity for economy, though a pudding would not have cost him eightpence. Made dishes were very few and badly cooked. The food was chiefly joints, and, in nine cases out of ten, roast mutton. Vegetables were not so much eaten as now, always excepting potatoes, which were consumed in large quantities. There was practically no fruit, except a few apples and oranges at Christmas. Men sat very long over their wine. Sherry used to be served at dinner and often claret afterwards, but the great beverage was port. I am inclined to think that port has sensibly deteriorated since my young days. It was as a rule more fruity then, but we never talked of our livers, as subalterns and undergraduates do nowadays. Port used to come direct to Dingle. It was an easy harbour 'to run,' and there was some smuggling. On one occasion some soldiers were sent to protect the gauger, who was bent on making an important seizure. A few of the inhabitants of Dingle took the opportunity of entertaining the officer, and whilst he slumbered from the effects of their hospitality, the opportunity for making the seizure was lost. There is no particular reason why I should tell the following story here, but it is worth recording, and I don't know any other part of my reminiscences where it is more likely to slip in appropriately. In Kerry in 1815, the farmers had been an extra long time fattening up their pigs. After the Peace, prices all fell, and though the farmers were reluctant, they had to yield to circumstances. One day the dealers were buying at extremely low rates in Tralee market, when the postman brought the news that Napoleon had escaped from Elba. Instantly all the farmers broke off their bargains, and proceeded to start homeward with their swine, shouting:-- 'Hurrah for Boney that rose the pigs.' My mother often told me of this scene, which she herself witnessed. There was always a distinct sympathy with France, owing to the smuggling from that land, and after the English had prohibited the exportation of wool, it was smuggled into France, whence were brought back silks and brandy. The geography of Kerry is ideal for landing contraband store, and I should say even more was done in this respect locally than on the coast of Scotland. There is a certain amount of good-will between people whose mutual interests are similar until they fall out, and the hope of a French landing in Ireland, though never very serious, always fanned the native disaffection to the Government in the West.