DUBLIN CARMEN. THE Dublin carmen deserve a few words. As Cork is celebrated for its cads, so is Dublin for its carmen: they are decidedly at the head of their profession. The cars, too, are of the oldfashioned sort, unmixed with the affected improvements of flies as at Cork. A Cork fly is highly dangerous, top-heavy, and frequently upsetting on the hill; but no man ever heard of an accident happening to an outside jaunting car, or rather to the riders upon it. The horse may fall-the wheel may come off, but you are only where you were; there is no upsetting all this I have proved. I have also proved what it is to be upset in a covered If a wheel car, and been on the under-side. come off you are gone. What an indifferent protection is the canvass head to save the human one from a rude contact with the ground! What an unequal fight you have in the scramble with those who are pitched upon you, who, in their hurry to escape, tread without ceremony on your face, put a foot in your mouth, or dig your eye out with the heel of a boot in effecting that object! Why, I have had a gross and agitated old lady walking for minutes on my countenance, and vaulting now and then from the bridge of my noise in a vain effort to quit the fallen vehicle. It is dreadful to think of! car. Not But nothing of this can occur in an outside There all is fair and above-board. that I should much covet to go through the city of London, about three o'clock in the afternoon, in one of these, my favourite vehicles. To find one's self between two racing omnibuses coming down Ludgate Hill, at ten miles an hour, would be a sorry lounge; but, most happily, in Dublin they are as yet exempt from such dangerous conveniences. This is one reason why I like the retired virtues of that quiet city. No eternal cry of "Benk? Benk? Elephant? Oxford Street? Bake' Street? Pic'dilly?" Nothing of this: no contention of vindictive and unfigurative slang between rival conductors, and the equally great ruffians on the box; but a quiet "Car, yer honour?" occasionally greeting your ear. There is great capacity for fun among the Dublin carmen. Let any man pay attention to those at the Bloody Bridge stand, near the Royal Barracks, and see how felicitously the peculiarities of any remarkable individual of the garrison are hit off as he passes them: and this not offensively, and decidedly not to his face; for as he comes up they hail the wished-for customer with the most attentive civility, but being passed, there is no occasion to spare him. There is a marked difference in the expression of the faces before him and those behind. No note is taken of his long nose or the size of his boots as he advances, but the one is happily shewn off in some appropriate grimace when the back is turned, and the other alluded to, perhaps, more directly in words. "Blood an' ouns, look at his bo-o-o-ots!" was the never-failing exclamation whenever a certain jolly doctor passed them; who, sensibly eschewing the risk of corns and bunions, was wont to luxuriate in a loose and easy high-low. Another individual, who, from being a countryman and well-known, was familiarly called "Dinnis," or still more familiarly, "Ould Spalpy," from a trick he had of singing "Di tanti palpiti,” in his way down the Quay, was usually received in this way: (Aside.) "Here comes Dinnis, bedad!" "Car, your honor? Good horse, sir! (Lifting up his whip.) "Will you have one, your honor?" (Rising up and stretching out his arms like St. Paul preaching at Athens.) "Will you have one, captain?” (Jumping down and running after him.) It was no go. seat quietly, Returning and taking his "Divle a one for ould Spalpy to day." It was rich to hear them imitate the affected accent of some English ensign, who talked of "cigaas, and brandy and watāā." What a fine expression of comic humour on their features, as they echoed the word "cigaas," with something of the intonation of a dying wild goose, and the widest developement of their Milesian mouths! And when a young lady came to the stand towards evening,Covered car, there." 66 "Here you are, ma'am!" "This is it, my lady." "Sure I'm first, you blackguard!" "Was'nt I first, my lady?" " Where to, ma'am?" "Palatine Square, letter D." The gentle whistle he gave, and the comic look at the others as he drove off, were droll in the extreme. There is really no impertinence in all this: and I pity the man who cannot quietly join in the laugh at such an innocent exhibition of his peculiarities. How different is the dogged ruffianism of the London cabman! His whole life is a course of extortion: he knows it, and defies you. The victim also knows it and submits, rather than be slanged in the street, or, what is worse, attend twice at a police-office. Not that I mean to say that a Dublin car is preferable to a London cab; far from itparticularly the "Hansom ”—the very top and ultimate perfection of all street conveyances. I speak only of the drivers. Ireland has this peculiarity, that there are no waggons of any description, neither are there any vans for the conveyance of goods: the whole road traffic as well as the agri |