“'Twas that same I was thinking, sir,” said he, replying to the first and not the latter part of my remark. “When I saw your honor's face, and the beard you wore, I said to myself you wor a Frenchman.” “You mistook there, then; I am your countryman, but have passed a good many years in France.” “Fighting for Boney?” said he, as his eyes opened wide with surprise to behold one actually before him who might have served under Napoleon. “Yes, my good friend, even so; I was in the army of the Emperor.” “Tare an ages! then, are they coming over here now?” cried he, almost gasping in his eagerness. “No, no,” replied I, gravely; “and be thankful, too, for it, for your own and your children's sakes, that you see not a war raging in the fields and cities of your native land. Be assured, whatever wrongs you suffer,--I will not dispute their existence, for, as I told you, I am ignorant of the condition of the country,--but whatever they may be, you can pay too dearly for their remedy.” “But sure they 'd be on our side, would n't they?” “Of course they would; but think you that they 'd fight your battles without their price? Do you believe that Frenchmen so love you here that they would come to shed their blood in your cause without their own prospect of advantage?” “They hate the English, I'm tould, as bad as we do ourselves.” “They do so, and with more of justice for their hate. But that dislike might suffice to cause a war; it never would reward it. No, no; I know something of the spirit of French conquest. I glory in the bravery and the heroism that accomplished it; but I never wish to see my own country at the mercy of France. Whose soldier would you become if the Emperor Napoleon landed here to-morrow?--his. Whose uniform would you wear, whose musket carry, whose pay receive, whose orders obey?--his, and his only. And how long, think you, would your services be limited to home? What should prevent your being sent away to Egypt, to Poland, or to Russia? How much favor would an Irish deserter receive from a French court-martial, think you? No, good friend; while you have this warm roof to shelter you, and that broad sea is open for your industry and toil, never wish for foreign aid to assist you.” I saw that the poor fellow was discouraged by my words, and gradually led him to speak of those evils for whose alleviation he looked to France. To my surprise, however, he descanted less on political grievances than those which affect the well-being of the country socially. It was not the severity of a Government, but the absence of encouragement to industry,--the neglect of the poor,--which afflicted him. England was no longer the tyrant; the landlord had taken her place. Still, with the pertinacity of ignorance, he visited all the wrongs on that land from which originally his first misfortunes came, and with perverse ingenuity would endeavor to trace out every hardship he suffered as arising from the ill-will and hatred the Saxon bore him.