We will now return to Martin Kelly. I have before said that as soon as he had completed his legal business, namely, his instructions for the settlement of Anty Lynch’s property, respecting which he and Lord Ballindine had been together to the lawyer’s in Clare Street he started for home, by the Ballinasloe canal-boat, and reached that famous depot¹ of the fleecy tribe without adventure. I will not attempt to describe the tedium² of that horrid³ voyage, for it has been often described before; and to Martin, who was in no ways fastidious, it was not so unendurable as it must always be to those who have been accustomed to more rapid movement. Nor yet will I attempt to put on record the miserable⁴ resources of those, who, doomed⁵ to a twenty hours’ sojourn⁶ in one of these floating prisons, vainly endeavour to occupy or amuse their minds. But I will advise any, who from ill-contrived arrangements, or unforeseen misfortune, [FOOTNOTE: Of course it will be remembered that this was written before railways in Ireland had been constructed.] may find themselves on board the Ballinasloe canal-boat, to entertain no such vain dream. The vis inertiae of patient endurance, is the only weapon of any use in attempting to overcome the lengthened⁷ ennui⁸ of this most tedious transit⁹. Reading is out of the question. I have tried it myself, and seen others try it, but in vain. The sense of the motion, almost imperceptible, but still perceptible; the noises above you; the smells around you; the diversified¹⁰ crowd, of which you are a part; at one moment the heat this crowd creates; at the next, the

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