Chapter 1 of 2

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

   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."