THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]

Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.

Though the title page has no author's name inscribed, this work is generally attributed to Charles James Lever. Harry Lorrequer was a young officer in a British regiment stationed in Ireland in the early 1800's. The 1839 First Edition had pages too stained and friable for scanning—so a colleague, Mary Munarin, helped prepare this eBook for Project Gutenberg in the old fashioned way—she typed it! This story will be a delight to any readers with a few drops of Irish blood (or a wee drop of the Old Bushmills) in their veins.

The Inn at Munich

ENLARGE

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A crowd is a mob, if composed even of bishops

And some did pray—who never prayed before

Annoyance of her vulgar loquacity

Enjoy the name without the gain

Enough is as good as a feast

Fighting like devils for conciliation

Has but one fault, but that fault is a grand one

Hating each other for the love of God

He was very much disguised in drink

How ingenious is self-deception

My English proves me Irish

Mistaking zeal for inclination

Mistaking your abstraction for attention

Rather a dabbler in the"ologies"

The tone of assumed compassion

That"to stand was to fall,"

That land of punch, priests, and potatoes

What will not habit accomplish

"We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps—

Long twenty-fours—short culverins and mortars—

Condemn'd the'Horse Guards'for a set of raps,

And cursed our fate at being in such quarters.

Some smoked, some sighed, and some were heard to snore;

Some wished themselves five fathoms'neat the Solway;

And some did pray—who never prayed before—

That they might get the'route'for Cork or Galway."

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