4 AUGUST 1894, Page 15

IRISH COMPLAISANCE.

[To THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR:1 Sza,—This may amuse your readers who are interested in phrases racy of the soil. Last week I asked a Cavan labouring man how far it was to a place for which I was bound. "Two miles your raverence." "Two miles and a little more F" said I, knowing by long experience that my countrymen don't like to discourage a traveller by letting him know that he has still a long walk before him. "Well, your raverence, it's two miles sarong and rich, so to spake."—I am, Sir, &c., .3 Belgrave Road, Dublin, July 29th. H. V. WHITE.