Title: The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Complete
Author: Lever, Charles James
Language: English
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THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Volume 1

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.


[Note: Though the title page has no author\x92s name inscribed,
this work is generally attributed to Charles James Lever.]



Volume 1. (Chapters I. to X.)

         \x93We talked of pipe-clay regulation caps--
            Long twenty-fours--short culverins and mortars--
          Condemn\x92d the \x91Horse Guards\x92 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 \x91neat the Solway;
          And some did pray--who never prayed before--
            That they might get the \x91route\x92 for Cork or Galway.\x94



To
Sir George Hamilton Seymour, G.C.H.
&c. &c.

My Dear Sir Hamilton,

If a feather will show how the wind blows, perhaps my dedicating to you
even as light matter as these Confessions may in some measure prove how
grateful I feel for the many kindnesses I have received from you in the
course of our intimacy.  While thus acknowledging a debt, I must also
avow that another motive strongly prompts me upon this occasion.  I am
not aware of any one, to whom with such propriety a volume of anecdote
and adventure should be inscribed, as to one, himself well known as an
inimitable narrator.  Could I have stolen for my story, any portion of
the grace and humour with which I have heard you adorn many of your own,
while I should deem this offering more worthy of your acceptance, I
should also feel more confident of its reception by the public.

               With every sentiment of esteem and regard,
                         Believe me very faithfully yours,
                                   THE AUTHOR
Bruxelles, December, 1839.



PREFATORY EPISTLE.

Dear Public,

When first I set about recording the scenes which occupy these pages, I
had no intention of continuing them, except in such stray and scattered
fragments as the columns of a Magazine (FOOTNOTE: The Dublin University
Magazine.) permit of; and when at length I discovered that some interest
had attached not only to the adventures, but to their narrator, I would
gladly have retired with my \x93little laurels\x94 from a stage, on which,
having only engaged to appear between the acts, I was destined to come
forward as a principal character.

Among the \x93miseries of human life,\x94 a most touching one is spoken of--the
being obliged to listen to the repetition of a badly sung song, because
some well-wishing, but not over discreet friend of the singer has called
loudly for an encore.

I begin very much to fear that something of the kind has taken place
here, and that I should have acted a wiser part, had I been contented
with even the still small voice of a few partial friends, and retired
from the boards in the pleasing delusion of success; but unfortunately,
the same easy temperament that has so often involved me before, has been
faithful to me here; and when you pretended to be pleased, unluckily, I
believed you.

So much of apology for the matter--a little now for the manner of my
offending, and I have done.  I wrote as I felt--sometimes in good
spirits, sometimes in bad--always carelessly--for, God help me, I can do
no better.

When the celibacy of the Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, became an
active law in that University, the Board proceeded to enforce it, by
summoning to their presence all the individuals who it was well known had
transgressed the regulation, and among them figured Dr. S., many of whose
sons were at the same time students in the college.  \x93Are you married,
Dr. S-----r?\x94 said the bachelor vice-provost, in all the dignity and
pride of conscious innocence.  \x93Married!\x94 said the father of ten
children, with a start of involuntary horror;--\x93married?\x94  \x93Yes sir,
married.\x94  \x93Why sir, I am no more married than the Provost.\x94  This was
quite enough--no further questions were asked, and the head of the
University preferred a merciful course towards the offender, to
repudiating his wife and disowning his children.  Now for the
application.  Certain captious and incredulous people have doubted the
veracity of the adventures I have recorded in these pages; I do not think
it necessary to appeal to concurrent testimony and credible witnesses for
their proof, but I pledge myself to the fact that every tittle I have
related is as true as that my name is Lorrequer--need I say more?

Another objection has been made to my narrative, and I cannot pass it by
without a word of remark;--\x93these Confessions are wanting in scenes of
touching and pathetic interest\x94 (FOOTNOTE: We have the author\x92s
permission to state, that all the pathetic and moving incidents of his
career he has reserved for a second series of \x93Confessions,\x94 to be
entitled \x93Lorrequer Married?\x94--Publisher\x92s Note.)--true, quite true; but
I console myself on this head, for I remember hearing of an author whose
paraphrase of the book of Job was refused by a publisher, if he could not
throw a little more humour into it; and if I have not been more miserable
and more unhappy, I am very sorry for it on your account, but you must
excuse my regretting it on my own.  Another story and I have done;--the
Newgate Calendar makes mention of a notorious housebreaker, who closed
his career of outrage and violence by the murder of a whole family, whose
house he robbed; on the scaffold he entreated permission to speak a few
words to the crowd beneath, and thus addressed them:--\x93My friends, it is
quite true I murdered this family; in cold blood I did it--one by one
they fell beneath my hand, while I rifled their coffers, and took forth
their effects; but one thing is imputed to me, which I cannot die without
denying--it is asserted that I stole an extinguisher; the contemptible
character of this petty theft is a stain upon my reputation, that I
cannot suffer to disgrace my memory.\x94  So would I now address you for all
the graver offences of my book; I stand forth guilty--miserably, palpably
guilty--they are mine every one of them; and I dare not, I cannot deny
them; but if you think that the blunders in French and the hash of
spelling so widely spread through these pages, are attributable to me;
on the faith of a gentleman I pledge myself you are wrong, and that I had
nothing to do with them.  If my thanks for the kindness and indulgence
with which these hastily written and rashly conceived sketches have been
received by the press and the public, are of any avail, let me add, in
conclusion, that a more grateful author does not exist than

HARRY LORREQUER



CONTENTS:

Volume 1.

CHAPTER I
Arrival in Cork--Civic Festivities--Private Theatricals

CHAPTER II
Detachment Duty--The Burton Arms--Callonby

CHAPTER III
Life at Callonby--Love-making--Miss O\x92Dowd\x92s Adventure

CHAPTER IV
Botanical Studies--The Natural System preferable to the Linnaean

CHAPTER V
Puzzled--Explanation--Makes bad worse--The Duel

CHAPTER VI
The Priest\x92s Supper--Father Malachi and the Coadjutor--Major Jones and
the Abbe

CHAPTER VII
The Lady\x92s Letter--Peter and his Acquaintances--Too late

CHAPTER VIII
Congratulations--Sick Leave--How to pass the Board

CHAPTER IX
The Road--Travelling Acquaintances--A Packet Adventure

CHAPTER X
Upset--Mind and Body


Volume 2.

CHAPTER XI
Cheltenham--Matrimonial Adventure--Showing how to make love for a friend

CHAPTER XII
Dublin--Tom O\x92Flaherty--A Reminiscence of the Peninsula

CHAPTER XIII
Dublin--The Boarding-house--Select Society

CHAPTER XIV
The Chase

CHAPTER XV
Mems Of the North Cork

CHAPTER XVI
Theatricals

CHAPTER XVI*    (The chapter # is a repeat)
The Wager

CHAPTER XVII
The Elopement


Volume 3.

CHAPTER XVIII
Detachment Duty--An Assize Town

CHAPTER XIX
The Assize Town

CHAPTER XX
A Day in Dublin

CHAPTER XXI
A Night at Howth

CHAPTER XXII
The Journey

CHAPTER XXIII
Calais


Volume 4.

CHAPTER XXIV
The Gen d\x92Arme

CHAPTER XXV
The Inn at Chantraine

CHAPTER XXVI
Mr O\x92Leary

CHAPTER XXVII
Paris
CHAPTER XXVIII
Paris


Volume 5.

CHAPTER XXIX
Captain Trevanion\x92s Adventure

CHAPTER XXX
Difficulties

CHAPTER XXXI
Explanation

CHAPTER XXXII
Mr O\x92Leary\x92s First Love

CHAPTER XXXIII
Mr O\x92Leary\x92s Second Love

CHAPTER XXXIV
The Duel

CHAPTER XXXV
Early Recollections--A First Love

CHAPTER XXXVI
Wise Resolves

CHAPTER XXXVII
The Proposal

CHAPTER XXXVIII
Thoughts upon Matrimony in general, and in the Army in particular--The
Knight of Kerry and Billy M\x92Cabe

CHAPTER XXXIX
A Reminiscence

CHAPTER XL
The Two Letters

CHAPTER XLI
Mr O\x92Leary\x92s Capture



Volume 6.

CHAPTER XLII.
The Journey

CHAPTER XLIII.
The Journey

CHAPTER XLIV.
A Reminscence of the East

CHAPTER XLV.
A Day in the Phoenix

CHAPTER XLVI.
An Adventure in Canada

CHAPTER XLVII.
The Courier\x92s Passport

CHAPTER XLVIII.
A Night in Strasbourg

CHAPTER XLIX.
A Surprise

CHAPTER L.
Jack Waller\x92s Story

CHAPTER LI.
Munich

CHAPTER LII.
Inn at Munich

CHAPTER LIII.
The Ball

CHAPTER LIV.
A Discovery

CHAPTER LV.
Conclusion



A WORD OF INTRODUCTION.

\x93Story! God bless you; I have none to tell, sir.\x94

It is now many--do not ask me to say how many--years since I received
from the Horse Guards the welcome intelligence that I was gazetted to an
ensigncy in his Majesty\x92s __th Foot, and that my name, which had figured
so long in the \x93Duke\x92s\x94 list, with the words \x93a very hard case\x94 appended,
should at length appear in the monthly record of promotions and
appointments.

Since then my life has been passed in all the vicissitudes of war and
peace.  The camp and the bivouac--the reckless gaiety of the mess-table
--the comfortless solitude of a French prison--the exciting turmoils of
active service--the wearisome monotony of garrison duty, I have alike
partaken of, and experienced.  A career of this kind, with a temperament
ever ready to go with the humour of those about him will always be sure
of its meed of adventure.  Such has mine been; and with no greater
pretension than to chronicle a few of the scenes in which I have borne a
part, and revive the memory of the other actors in them--some, alas! Now
no more--I have ventured upon these \x93Confessions.\x94

If I have not here selected that portion of my life which most abounded
in striking events and incidents most worthy of recording, my excuse is
simply, because being my first appearance upon the boards, I preferred
accustoming myself to the look of the house, while performing the \x93Cock,\x94
 to coming before the audience in the more difficult part of Hamlet.

As there are unhappily impracticable people in the world, who, as Curran
expressed it, are never content to know \x93who killed the gauger, if you
can\x92t inform them who wove his corduroys\x94--to all such I would, in deep
humility, say, that with my \x93Confessions\x94 they have nothing to do--I have
neither story nor moral--my only pretension to the one, is the detail of
a passion which marked some years of my life; my only attempt at the
other, the effort to show how prolific in hair-breadth \x91scapes may a
man\x92s career become, who, with a warm imagination and easy temper,
believes too much, and rarely can feign a part without forgetting that he
is acting.  Having said thus much, I must once more bespeak the
indulgence never withheld from a true penitent, and at once begin my
\x93Confessions.\x94



CHAPTER I.

ARRIVAL IN CORK--CIVIC FESTIVITIES--PRIVATE THEATRICALS.

It was on a splendid morning in the autumn of the year 181_ that the
Howard transport, with four hundred of his Majesty\x92s 4_th Regt., dropped
anchor in the beautiful harbour of Cove; the sea shone under the purple
light of the rising sun with a rich rosy hue, beautifully in contrast
with the different tints of the foliage of the deep woods already tinged
with the brown of autumn.  Spike Island lay \x93sleeping upon its broad
shadow,\x94 and the large ensign which crowns the battery was wrapped around
the flag-staff, there not being even air enough to stir it.  It was still
so early, that but few persons were abroad; and as we leaned over the
bulwarks, and looked now, for the first time for eight long years, upon
British ground, many an eye filled, and many a heaving breast told how
full of recollections that short moment was, and how different our
feelings from the gay buoyancy with which we had sailed from that same
harbour for the Peninsula; many of our best and bravest had we left
behind us, and more than one native to the land we were approaching had
found his last rest in the soil of the stranger.  It was, then, with a
mingled sense of pain and pleasure, we gazed upon that peaceful little
village, whose white cottages lay dotted along the edge of the harbour.
The moody silence our thoughts had shed over us was soon broken: the
preparations for disembarking had begun, and I recollect well to this
hour how, shaking off the load that oppressed my heart, I descended the
gangway, humming poor Wolfe\x92s well-known song--

               \x93Why, soldiers, why
                Should we be melancholy, boys?\x94

And to this elasticity of spirits--whether the result of my profession,
or the gift of God--as Dogberry has it--I know not--I owe the greater
portion of the happiness I have enjoyed in a life, whose changes and
vicissitudes have equalled most men\x92s.

Drawn up in a line along the shore, I could scarce refrain from a smile
at our appearance.  Four weeks on board a transport will certainly not
contribute much to the \x93personnel\x94 of any unfortunate therein confined;
but when, in addition to this, you take into account that we had not
received new clothes for three years--if I except caps for our
grenadiers, originally intended for a Scotch regiment, but found to be
all too small for the long-headed generation.  Many a patch of brown and
grey, variegated the faded scarlet, \x93of our uniform,\x94 and scarcely a pair
of knees in the entire regiment did not confess their obligations to a
blanket.  But with all this, we shewed a stout, weather-beaten front,
that, disposed as the passer-by might feel to laugh at our expense, very
little caution would teach him it was fully as safe to indulge it in his
sleeve.

The bells from every steeple and tower rung gaily out a peal of welcome
as we marched into \x93that beautiful city called Cork,\x94 our band playing
\x93Garryowen\x94--for we had been originally raised in Ireland, and still
among our officers maintained a strong majority from that land of punch,
priests, and potatoes--the tattered flag of the regiment proudly waving
over our heads, and not a man amongst us whose warm heart did not bound
behind a Waterloo medal.  Well--well!  I am now--alas, that I should say
it--somewhat in the \x93sear and yellow;\x94 and I confess, after the
experience of some moments of high, triumphant feeling, that I never
before felt within me, the same animating, spirit-filling glow of
delight, as rose within my heart that day, as I marched at the head
of my company down George\x92s-street.

We were soon settled in barracks; and then began a series of
entertainments on the side of the civic dignities of Cork, which soon led
most of us to believe that we had only escaped shot and shell to fall
less gloriously beneath champagne and claret.  I do not believe there is
a coroner in the island who would have pronounced but the one verdict
over the regiment--\x93Killed by the mayor and corporation,\x94 had we so
fallen.

First of all, we were dined by the citizens of Cork--and, to do them
justice, a harder drinking set of gentlemen no city need boast; then we
were feasted by the corporation; then by the sheriffs; then came the
mayor, solus; then an address, with a cold collation, that left eight of
us on the sick-list for a fortnight; but the climax of all was a grand
entertainment given in the mansion-house, and to which upwards of two
thousand were invited.  It was a species of fancy ball, beginning by a
dejeune at three o\x92clock in the afternoon, and ending--I never yet met
the man who could tell when it ended; as for myself, my finale partook a
little of the adventurous, and I may as well relate it.

After waltzing for about an hour with one of the prettiest girls I ever
set eyes upon, and getting a tender squeeze of the hand, as I restored
her to a most affable-looking old lady in a blue turban and a red velvet
gown who smiled most benignly on me, and called me \x93Meejor,\x94 I retired to
recruit for a new attack, to a small table, where three of ours were
quaffing \x93ponche a la Romaine,\x94 with a crowd of Corkagians about them,
eagerly inquiring after some heroes of their own city, whose deeds of
arms they were surprised did not obtain special mention from \x93the Duke.\x94
 I soon ingratiated myself into this well-occupied clique, and dosed them
with glory to their hearts\x92 content.  I resolved at once to enter into
their humour; and as the \x93ponche\x94 mounted up to my brain I gradually
found my acquaintanceship extend to every family and connexion in the
country.

\x93Did ye know Phil Beamish of the 3_th, sir?\x94 said a tall, red-faced,
red-whiskered, well-looking gentleman, who bore no slight resemblance
to Feargus O\x92Connor.

\x93Phil Beamish!\x94 said I.  \x93Indeed I did, sir, and do still; and there is
not a man in the British army I am prouder of knowing.\x94  Here, by the
way, I may mention that I never heard the name till that moment.

\x93You don\x92t say so, sir?\x94 said Feargus--for so I must call him, for
shortness sake.  \x93Has he any chance of the company yet, sir?\x94

\x93Company!\x94 said I, in astonishment.  \x93He obtained his majority three
months since.  You cannot possibly have heard from lately, or you would
have known that?\x94

\x93That\x92s true, sir.  I never heard since he quitted the 3_th to go to
Versailles, I think they call it, for his health.  But how did he get the
step, sir?\x94

\x93Why, as to the company, that was remarkable enough!\x94 said I, quaffing
off a tumbler of champagne, to assist my invention.  \x93You know it was
about four o\x92clock in the afternoon of the 18th that Napoleon ordered
Grouchy to advance with the first and second brigade of the Old Guard and
two regiments of chasseurs, and attack the position occupied by Picton
and the regiments under his command.  Well, sir, on they came, masked by
the smoke of a terrific discharge of artillery, stationed on a small
eminence to our left, and which did tremendous execution among our poor
fellows--on they came, Sir; and as the smoke cleared partially away we
got a glimpse of them, and a more dangerous looking set I should not
desire to see: grizzle-bearded, hard-featured, bronzed fellows, about
five-and-thirty or forty years of age; their beauty not a whit improved
by the red glare thrown upon their faces and along the whole line by each
flash of the long twenty-fours that were playing away to the right.  Just
at this moment Picton rode down the line with his staff, and stopping
within a few paces of me, said, \x91They\x92re coming up; steady, boys; steady
now: we shall have something to do soon.\x92  And then, turning sharply
round, he looked in the direction of the French battery, that was
thundering away again in full force, \x91Ah, that must be silenced,\x92 said
he, \x91Where\x92s Beamish?\x92--\x93Says Picton!\x94 interrupted Feargus, his eyes
starting from their sockets, and his mouth growing wider every moment, as
he listed with the most intense interest.  \x93Yes,\x94 said I, slowly; and
then, with all the provoking nonchalance of an Italian improvisatore, who
always halts at the most exciting point of his narrative, I begged a
listener near me to fill my glass from the iced punch beside him.  Not a
sound was heard as I lifted the bumper to my lips; all were breathless in
their wound-up anxiety to hear of their countryman who had been selected
by Picton--for what, too, they knew not yet, and, indeed, at this instant
I did not know myself, and nearly laughed outright, for the two of our
men who had remained at the table had so well employed their interval of
ease as to become very pleasantly drunk, and were listening to my
confounded story with all the gravity and seriousness in the world.

\x93\x91Where\x92s Beamish?\x92 said Picton.  \x91Here, sir,\x92 said Phil stepping out
from the line and touching his cap to the general, who, taking him apart
for a few minutes, spoke to him with great animation.   We did not know
what he said; but before five minutes were over, there was Phil with
three companies of light-bobs drawn up at our left; their muskets at the
charge, they set off at a round trot down the little steep which closed
our flank.  We had not much time to follow their movements, for our own
amusement began soon; but I well remember, after repelling the French
attack, and standing in square against two heavy charges of cuirassiers,
the first thing I saw where the French battery had stood, was Phil
Beamish and about a handful of brave fellows, all that remained from the
skirmish.  He captured two of the enemy\x92s field-pieces, and was \x91Captain
Beamish\x92 on the day after.\x94

\x93Long life to him,\x94 said at least a dozen voices behind and about me,
while a general clinking of decanters and smacking of lips betokened that
Phil\x92s health with all the honours was being celebrated.  For myself, I
was really so engrossed by my narrative, and so excited by the \x93ponche,\x94
 that I saw or heard very little of what was passing around, and have only
a kind of dim recollection of being seized by the hand by \x93Feargus,\x94 who
was Beamish\x92s brother, and who, in the fullness of his heart, would have
hugged me to his breast, if I had not opportunely been so overpowered as
to fall senseless under the table.

When I first returned to consciousness, I found myself lying exactly
where I had fallen.  Around me lay heaps of slain--the two of \x93ours\x94
 amongst the number.  One of them--I remember he was the adjutant--held in
his hand a wax candle (three to the pound).  Whether he had himself
seized it in the enthusiasm of my narrative of flood and field, or it had
been put there by another, I know not, but he certainly cut a droll
figure.  The room we were in was a small one off the great saloon, and
through the half open folding-door I could clearly perceive that the
festivities were still continued.  The crash of fiddles and French horns,
and the tramp of feet, which had lost much of their elasticity since the
entertainments began, rang through my ears, mingled with the sounds \x93down
the middle,\x94 \x93hands across,\x94 \x93here\x92s your partner, Captain.\x94  What hour
of the night or morning it then was, I could not guess; but certainly the
vigor of the party seemed little abated, if I might judge from the
specimens before me, and the testimony of a short plethoric gentleman,
who stood wiping his bald head, after conducting his partner down
twenty-eight couple, and who, turning to his friend, said, \x93Oh, the
distance is nothing, but it is the pace that kills.\x94

The first evidence I shewed of any return to reason, was a strong
anxiety to be at my quarters; but how to get there I knew not.  The faint
glimmering of sense I possessed told me that \x93to stand was to fall,\x94 and
I was ashamed to go on all-fours, which prudence suggested.

At this moment I remembered I had brought with me my cane, which, from a
perhaps pardonable vanity, I was fond of parading.  It was a present from
the officers of my regiment--many of them, alas, since dead--and had a
most splendid gold head, with a stag at the top--the arms of the
regiment.  This I would not have lost for any consideration I can
mention; and this now was gone!  I looked around me on every side; I
groped beneath the table; I turned the sleeping sots who lay about in no
very gentle fashion; but, alas, it was gone.  I sprang to my feet and
only then remembered how unfit I was to follow up the search, as tables,
chairs, lights, and people seemed all rocking and waving before me.
However, I succeeded in making my way, through one room into another,
sometimes guiding my steps along the walls; and once, as I recollect,
seeking the diagonal of a room, I bisected a quadrille with such
ill-directed speed, as to run foul of a Cork dandy and his partner who
were just performing the \x93en avant:\x94 but though I saw them lie tumbled
in the dust by the shock of my encounter--for I had upset them--I still
held on the even tenor of my way.  In fact, I had feeling for but one
loss; and, still in pursuit of my cane, I reached the hall-door.  Now,
be it known that the architecture of the Cork Mansion House has but one
fault, but that fault is a grand one, and a strong evidence of how
unsuited English architects are to provide buildings for a people whose
tastes and habits they but imperfectly understand--be it known, then,
that the descent from the hall-door to the street was by a flight of
twelve stone steps.  How I should ever get down these was now my
difficulty.  If Falstaff deplored \x93eight yards of uneven ground as being
three score and ten miles a foot,\x94 with equal truth did I feel that
these twelve awful steps were worse to me than would be M\x92Gillicuddy
Reeks in the day-light, and with a head clear from champagne.

While I yet hesitated, the problem resolved itself; for, gazing down upon
the bright gravel, brilliantly lighted by the surrounding lamps, I lost
my balance, and came tumbling and rolling from top to bottom, where I
fell upon a large mass of some soft substance, to which, in all
probability, I owe my life.  In a few seconds I recovered my senses, and
what was my surprise to find that the downy cushion beneath, snored most
audibly!  I moved a little to one side, and then discovered that in
reality it was nothing less than an alderman of Cork, who, from his
position, I concluded had shared the same fate with myself; there he lay,
\x93like a warrior taking his rest,\x94 but not with his \x93martial cloak around
him,\x94 but a much more comfortable and far more costly robe--a scarlet
gown of office--with huge velvet cuffs and a great cape of the same
material.  True courage consists in presence of mind; and here mine came
to my aid at once: recollecting the loss I had just sustained, and
perceiving that all was still about me, with that right Peninsular maxim,
that reprisals are fair in an enemy\x92s camp, I proceeded to strip the
slain; and with some little difficulty--partly, indeed, owing to my
unsteadiness on my legs--I succeeded in denuding the worthy alderman, who
gave no other sign of life during the operation than an abortive effort
to \x93hip, hip, hurra,\x94 in which I left him, having put on the spoil, and
set out on my way the the barrack with as much dignity of manner as I
could assume in honour of my costume.  And here I may mention (en
parenthese) that a more comfortable morning gown no man ever possessed,
and in its wide luxuriant folds I revel, while I write these lines.

When I awoke on the following day I had considerable difficulty in
tracing the events of the past evening.  The great scarlet cloak,
however, unravelled much of the mystery, and gradually the whole of my
career became clear before me, with the single exception of the episode
of Phil Beamish, about which my memory was subsequently refreshed--but I
anticipate.  Only five appeared that day at mess; and, Lord! What
spectres they were!--yellow as guineas; they called for soda water
without ceasing, and scarcely spoke a word to each other.  It was plain
that the corporation of Cork was committing more havoc among us than
Corunna or Waterloo, and that if we did not change our quarters, there
would be quick promotion in the corps for such as were \x93seasoned
gentlemen.\x94  After a day or two we met again together, and then what
adventures were told--each man had his own story to narrate; and from the
occurrences detailed, one would have supposed years had been passing,
instead of the short hours of an evening party.  Mine were indeed among
the least remarkable; but I confess that the air of vraisemblance
produced by my production of the aldermanic gown gave me the palm above
all competitors.

Such was our life in Cork--dining, drinking, dancing, riding steeple
chases, pigeon shooting, and tandem driving--filling up any little
interval that was found to exist between a late breakfast, and the time
to dress for dinner; and here I hope I shall not be accused of a tendency
to boasting, while I add, that among all ranks and degrees of men, and
women too, there never was a regiment more highly in estimation than the
4_th.  We felt the full value of all the attentions we were receiving;
and we endeavoured, as best we might, to repay them.  We got up Garrison
Balls and Garrison Plays, and usually performed one or twice a week
during the winter.  Here I shone conspicuously; in the morning I was
employed painting scenery and arranging the properties; as it grew later,
I regulated the lamps, and looked after the foot-lights, mediating
occasionally between angry litigants, whose jealousies abound to the full
as much, in private theatricals, as in the regular corps dramatique.
Then, I was also leader in the orchestra; and had scarcely to speak the
prologues.  Such are the cares of greatness: to do myself justice, I did
not dislike them; though, to be sure, my taste for the drama did cost me
a little dear, as will be seen in the sequel.

We were then in the full career of popularity.  Our balls pronounced the
very pleasantest; our plays far superior to any regular corps that had
ever honoured Cork with their talents; when an event occurred which threw
a gloom over all our proceedings, and finally put a stop to every project
for amusement, we had so completely given ourselves up to.  This was no
less than the removal of our Lieutenant-Colonel.  After thirty years of
active service in the regiment he then commanded, his age and
infirmities, increased by some severe wounds, demanded ease and repose;
he retired from us, bearing along with him the love and regard of every
man in the regiment.  To the old officers he was endeared by long
companionship, and undeviating friendship; to the young, he was in every
respect as a father, assisting by his advice, and guiding by his counsel;
while to the men, the best estimate of his worth appeared in the fact,
that corporeal punishment was unknown in the corps.  Such was the man we
lost; and it may well be supposed, that his successor, who, or whatever
he might be, came under circumstances of no common difficulty amongst us;
but, when I tell, that our new Lieutenant-Colonel was in every respect
his opposite, it may be believed how little cordiality he met with.

Lieutenant-Colonel Carden--for so I shall call him, although not his real
name--had not been a month at quarters, when he proved himself a regular
martinet; everlasting drills, continual reports, fatigue parties, and
ball practice, and heaven knows what besides, superseded our former
morning\x92s occupation; and, at the end of the time I have metioned, we,
who had fought our way from Albuera to Waterloo, under some of the
severest generals of division, were pronounced a most disorderly and
ill-disciplined regiment, by a Colonel, who had never seen a shot fired
but at a review in Hounslow, or a sham-battle in the Fifteen Acres.  The
winter was now drawing to a close--already some little touch of spring
was appearing; as our last play for the season was announced, every
effort to close with some little additional effort was made; and each
performer in the expected piece was nerving himself for an effort beyond
his wont.  The Colonel had most unequivocally condemned these plays; but
that mattered not; they came not within his jurisdiction; and we took no
notice of his displeasure, further than sending him tickets, which were
as immediately returned as received.  From being the chief offender, I
had become particularly obnoxious; and he had upon more than one
occasion expressed his desire for an opportunity to visit me with his
vengeance; but being aware of his kind intentions towards me, I took
particular care to let no such opportunity occur.

On the morning in question, then, I had scarcely left my quarters, when
one of my brother officers informed me that the Colonel had made a great
uproar, that one of the bills of the play had been put up on his door
--which, with his avowed dislike to such representations, he considered as
intended to insult him: he added, too, that the Colonel attributed it to
me.  In this, however, he was wrong--and, to this hour, I never knew who
did it.  I had little time, and still less inclination, to meditate upon
the Colonel\x92s wrath--the theatre had all my thoughts; and indeed it was a
day of no common exertion, for our amusements were to conclude with a
grand supper on the stage, to which all the elite of Cork were invited.
Wherever I went through the city--and many were my peregrinations--the
great placard of the play stared me in the fact; and every gate and
shuttered window in Cork, proclaimed, \x93THE PART OF OTHELLO, BY MR.
LORREQUER.\x94

As evening drew near, my cares and occupations were redoubled.  My Iago
I had fears for--\x91tis true he was an admirable Lord Grizzle in Tom Thumb
--but then--then I had to paint the whole company, and bear all their
abuse besides, for not making some of the most ill-looking wretches,
perfect Apollos; but, last of all, I was sent for, at a quarter to
seven, to lace Desdemona\x92s stays.  Start not, gentle reader--my fair
Desdemona--she \x93who might lie by an emperor\x92s side, and command him
tasks\x94--was no other than the senior lieutenant of the regiment, and who
was a great a votary of the jolly god as honest Cassio himself.  But I
must hasten on--I cannot delay to recount our successes in detail.  Let
it suffice to say, that, by universal consent, I was preferred to Kean;
and the only fault the most critical observer could find to the
representative of Desdemona, was a rather unlady-like fondness for
snuff.  But, whatever little demerits our acting might have displayed,
were speedily forgotten in a champagne supper.  There I took the head of
the table; and, in the costume of the noble Moor, toasted, made
speeches, returned thanks, and sung songs, till I might have exclaimed
with Othello himself, \x93Chaos was come again;\x94--and I believe I owe my
ever reaching the barrack that night to the kind offices of Desdemona,
who carried me the greater part of the way on her back.

The first waking thoughts of him who has indulged over-night, was not
among the most blissful of existence, and certainly the pleasure is not
increased by the consciousness that he is called on to the discharge of
duties to which a fevered pulse and throbbing temples are but ill-suited.
My sleep was suddenly broken in upon the morning after the play, but a
\x93row-dow-dow\x94 beat beneath my window.  I jumped hastily from my bed, and
looked out, and there, to my horror, perceived the regiment under arms.
It was one of our confounded colonel\x92s morning drills; and there he stood
himself with the poor adjutant, who had been up all night, shivering
beside him.  Some two or three of the officers had descended; and the
drum was now summoning the others as it beat round the barrack-square.
I saw there was not a moment to lose, and proceeded to dress with all
despatch; but, to my misery, I discovered every where nothing but
theatrical robes and decorations--there lay a splendid turban, here a
pair of buskins--a spangled jacket glittered on one table, and a jewelled
scimitar on the other.  At last I detected my \x93regimental small-clothes,\x94
 &c. Most ignominiously thrust into a corner, in my ardour for my Moorish
robes the preceding evening.

I dressed myself with the speed of lightning; but as I proceeded in my
occupation-guess my annoyance to find that the toilet-table and glass,
ay, and even the basin-stand, had been removed to the dressing-room of
the theatre; and my servant, I suppose, following his master\x92s example,
was too tipsy to remember to bring them back; so that I was unable to
procure the luxury of cold water--for now not a moment more remained--the
drum had ceased, and the men had all fallen in.  Hastily drawing on my
coat, I put on my shako, and buckling on my belt as dandy-like as might
be, hurried down the stairs to the barrack-yard.  By the time I got down,
the men were all drawn up in line along the square; while the adjutant
was proceeding to examine their accoutrements, &c. as he passed down.
The colonel and the officers were standing in a group, but no conversing.
The anger of the commanding officer appeared still to continue, and there
was a dead silence maintained on both sides.  To reach the spot where
they stood, I had to pass along part of the line.  In doing so, how shall
I convey my amazement at the faces that met me--a general titter ran
along the entire rank, which not even their fears for consequences seemed
able to repress--for an effort, on the part of many, to stifle the laugh,
only ended in a still louder burst of merriment.  I looked to the far
side of the yard for an explanation, but there was nothing there to
account for it.  I now crossed over to where the officers were standing,
determining in my own mind to investigate the occurrence thoroughly, when
free from the presence of the colonel, to whom any representation of ill
conduct always brought a punishment far exceeding the merits of the case.

Scarcely had I formed this resolve, when I reached the group of officers;
but the moment I came near, one general roar of laughter saluted me,--the
like of which I never before heard--I looked down at my costume,
expecting to discover that, in my hurry to dress, I had put on some of
the garments of Othello--No: all was perfectly correct.  I waited for a
moment, till the first burst of their merriment over, I should obtain a
clue to the jest.  But their mirth appeared to increase.  Indeed poor
G----, the senior major, one of the gravest men in Europe, laughed till
the tears ran down his cheeks; and such was the effect upon me, that I
was induced to laugh too--as men will sometimes, from the infectious
nature of that strange emotion; but, no sooner did I do this, than their
fun knew no bounds, and some almost screamed aloud, in the excess of
their merriment; just at this instant the Colonel, who had been examining
some of the men, approached our group, advancing with an air of evident
displeasure, as the shouts of loud laughter continued.  As he came up,
I turned hastily round, and touching my cap, wished him good morning.
Never shall I forget the look he gave me.  If a glance could have
annihilated any man, his would have finished me.  For a moment his face
became purple with rage, his eye was almost hid beneath his bent brow,
and he absolutely shook with passion.

\x93Go, Sir,\x94 said he at length, as soon as he was able to find utterance
for his words; \x93Go, sir, to your quarters; and before you leave them, a
court-martial shall decide, if such continued insult to your commanding
officer, warrants your name being in the Army List.\x94

\x93What the devil can all this mean?\x94 I said, in a half-whisper, turning to
the others.  But there they stood, their handkerchiefs to their mouths,
and evidently choking with suppressed laughter.

\x93May I beg, Colonel C_____,\x94 said I----

\x93To your quarters, sir,\x94 roared the little man, in the voice of a lion.
And with a haughty wave of his hand, prevented all further attempt on my
part to seek explanation.

\x93They\x92re all mad, every man of them,\x94 I muttered, as I betook byself
slowly back to my rooms, amid the same evidences of mirth my first
appearance had excited--which even the Colonel\x92s presence, feared as
he was, could not entirely subdue.

With the air of a martyr I trod heavily up the stairs, and entered my
quarters, meditating within myself, awful schemes for vengeance, on the
now open tyranny of my Colonel; upon whom, I too, in my honest rectitude
of heart, vowed to have \x93a court-martial.\x94  I threw myself upon a chair,
and endeavoured to recollect what circumstance of the past evening could
have possibly suggested all the mirth in which both officers and men
seemed to participate equally; but nothing could I remember, capable of
solving the mystery,--surely the cruel wrongs of the manly Othello were
no laughter-moving subject.

I rang the bell hastily for my servant.  The door opened.

\x93Stubbes,\x94 said I, \x93are you aware\x94----

I had only got so far in my question, when my servant, one of the most
discreet of men, put on a broad grin, and turned away towards the door to
hide his face.

\x93What the devil does this mean?\x94 said I, stamping with passion; \x93he is as
bad as the rest.  Stubbes,\x94 and this I spoke with the most grave and
severe tone, \x93what is the meaning of the insolence?\x94

\x93Oh, sir,\x94 said the man; \x93Oh, sir, surely you did not appear on parade
with that face?\x94 and then he burst into a fit of the most uncontrollable
laughter.

Like lightning a horrid doubt shot across my mind.  I sprung over to the
dressing-glass, which had been replaced, and oh: horror of horrors!
There I stood as black as the king of Ashantee.  The cursed dye which I
had put on for Othello, I had never washed off,--and there with a huge
bear-skin shako, and a pair of black, bushy whiskers, shone my huge,
black, and polished visage, glowering at itself in the looking-glass.

My first impulse, after amazement had a little subsided, was to laugh
immoderately; in this I was joined by Stubbes, who, feeling that his
mirth was participated in, gave full vent to his risibility.  And,
indeed, as I stood before the glass, grinning from ear to ear, I felt
very little surprise that my joining in the laughter of my brother
officers, a short time before, had caused an increase of their merriment.
I threw myself upon a sofa, and absolutely laughed till my sides ached,
when, the door opening, the adjutant made his appearance.  He looked for
a moment at me, then at Stubbes, and then burst out himself, as loud as
either of us.  When he had at length recovered himself, he wiped his face
with his handkerchief, and said, with a tone of much gravity:--

\x93But, my dear Lorrequer, this will be a serious--a devilish serious
affair.  You know what kind of man Colonel C____ is; and you are aware,
too, you are not one of his prime favourites.  He is firmly convinced
that you intended to insult him, and nothing will convince him to the
contrary.  We told him how it must have occurred, but he will listen to
no explanation.\x94

I thought for one second before I replied, my mind, with the practised
rapidity of an old campaigner, took in all the pros and cons of the case;
I saw at a glance, it were better to brave the anger of the Colonel, come
in what shape it might, than be the laughing-stock of the mess for life,
and with a face of the greatest gravity and self-possession, said,

\x93Well, adjutant, the Colonel is right.  It was no mistake!  You know I
sent him tickets yesterday for the theatre.  Well, he returned them; this
did not annoy me, but on one account, I had made a wager with Alderman
Gullable, that the Colonel should see me in Othello--what was to be done?
Don\x92t you see, now, there was only one course, and I took it, old boy,
and have won my bet!\x94

\x93And lost your commission for a dozen of champagne, I suppose,\x94 said the
adjutant.

\x93Never mind, my dear fellow,\x94 I repled; \x93I shall get out of this scrape,
as I have done many others.\x94

\x93But what do you intend doing?\x94

\x93Oh, as to that,\x94 said I, \x93I shall, of course, wait on the Colonel
immediately; pretend to him that it was a mere blunder, from the
inattention of my servant--hand over Stubbes to the powers that punish,
(here the poor fellow winced a little,) and make my peace as well as I
can.  But, adjutant, mind,\x94 said I, \x93and give the real version to all our
fellows, and tell them to make it public as much as they please.\x94

\x93Never fear,\x94 said he, as he left the room still laughing, \x93they shall
all know the true story; but I wish with all my heart you were well out
of it.\x94

I now lost no time in making my toilet, and presented myself at the
Colonel\x92s quarters.  It is no pleasure for me to recount these passages
in my life, in which I have had to hear the \x93proud man\x92s contumely.\x94  I
shall therefore merely observe, that after a very long interview, the
Colonel accepted my apologies, and we parted.

Before a week elapsed, the story had gone far and near; every
dinner-table in Cork had laughed at it.  As for me, I attained immortal
honour for my tact and courage.  Poor Gullable readily agreed to favour
the story, and gave us a dinner as the lost wager, and the Colonel was
so unmercifully quizzed on the subject, and such broad allusions to his
being humbugged were given in the Cork papers, that he was obliged to
negociate a change of quarters with another regiment, to get out of the
continual jesting, and in less than a month we marched to Limerick, to
relieve, as it was reported, the 9th, ordered for foreign service, but,
in reality, only to relieve Lieut.-Colonel C____, quizzed beyond
endurance.

However, if the Colonel had seemed to forgive, he did not forget, for the
very second week after our arrival in Limerick, I received one morning at
my breakfast-table, the following brief note from our adjutant:--

     \x93My Dear Lorrequer--The Colonel has received orders to despatch two
     companies to some remote part of the county Clare; as you have \x91done
     the state some service,\x92 you are selected for the beautiful town of
     Kilrush, where, to use the eulogistic language of the geography
     books, \x91there is a good harbour, and a market plentifully supplied
     with fish.\x92  I have just heard of the kind intention in store for
     you, and lose no time in letting you know.

     \x93God give you a good deliverance from the \x91garcons lances,\x92 as the
     Moniteur calls the Whiteboys, and believe me ever your\x92s, Charles
     Curzon.\x94

I had scarcely twice read over the adjutant\x92s epistle, when I received
an official notification from the Colonel, directing me to proceed to
Kilrush, then and there to afford all aid and assistance in suppressing
illicit distillation, when called on for that purpose; and other similar
duties too agreeable to recapitulate.  Alas!  Alas!  Othello\x92s
occupation: was indeed gone!  The next morning at sun-rise saw me on my
march, with what appearance of gaiety I could muster, but in reality very
much chopfallen at my banishment, and invoking sundry things upon the
devoted head of the Colonel, which he would by no means consider as
\x93blessings.\x94

How short-sighted are we mortals, whether enjoying all the pump and state
of royalty, or marching like myself at the head of a company of his
Majesty\x92s 4_th.

Little, indeed, did I anticipate that the Siberia to which I fancied I
was condemned should turn out the happiest quarters my fate ever threw me
into.  But this, including as it does, one of the most important events
of my life, I reserve for another chapter.--

\x93What is that place called, Sergeant?\x94--\x93Bunratty Castle, sir,\x94

\x93Where do we breakfast?\x94--\x93At Clare Island, sir.\x94

\x93March away, boys!\x94



CHAPTER II.

DETACHMENT DUTY--THE BURTON ARMS--CALLONBY.

For a week after my arrival at Kilrush, my life was one of the most
dreary monotony.  The rain, which had begun to fall as I left Limerick,
continued to descend in torrents, and I found myself a close prisoner in
the sanded parlour of \x93mine inn.\x94  At no time would such \x93durance vile\x94
 have been agreeable; but now, when I contrasted it with all I had left
behind at head quarters, it was absolutely maddening.  The pleasant
lounge in the morning, the social mess, and the agreeable evening party,
were all exchanged for a short promenade of fourteen feet in one
direction, and twelve in the other, such being the accurate measurement
of my \x93salle a manger.\x94  A chicken, with legs as blue as a Highlander\x92s
in winter, for my dinner; and the hours that all Christian mankind were
devoting to pleasant intercourse, and agreeable chit-chat, spent in
beating that dead-march to time, \x93the Devil\x92s Tattoo,\x94 upon my ricketty
table, and forming, between whiles, sundry valorous resolutions to reform
my life, and \x93eschew sack and loose company.\x94

My front-window looked out upon a long, straggling, ill-paved street,
with its due proportion of mud-heaps, and duck pools; the houses on
either side were, for the most part, dingy-looking edifices, with
half-doors, and such pretension to being shops as a quart of meal, or
salt, displayed in the window, confers; or sometimes two tobacco-pipes,
placed \x93saltier-wise,\x94 would appear the only vendible article in the
establishment.  A more wretched, gloomy-looking picture of woe-begone
poverty, I never beheld.

If I turned for consolation to the back of the house, my eyes fell upon
the dirty yard of a dirty inn; the half-thatched cow-shed, where two
famished animals mourned their hard fate,--\x93chewing the cud of sweet and
bitter fancy;\x94 the chaise, the yellow post-chaise, once the pride and
glory of the establishment, now stood reduced from its wheels, and
ignominiously degraded to a hen-house; on the grass-grown roof a cock had
taken his stand, with an air of protective patronage to the feathered
inhabitants beneath:

               \x93To what base uses must we come at last.\x94

That chaise, which once had conveyed the blooming bride, all blushes and
tenderness, and the happy groom, on their honeymoon visit to Ballybunion
and its romantic caves, or to the gigantic cliffs and sea-girt shores of
Moher--or with more steady pace and becoming gravity had borne along the
\x93going judge of assize,\x94--was now become a lying-in hospital for fowl,
and a nursery for chickens.  Fallen as I was myself from my high estate,
it afforded me a species of malicious satisfaction to contemplate these
sad reverses of fortune; and I verily believe--for on such slight
foundation our greatest resolves are built--that if the rain had
continued a week longer, I should have become a misanthropist for life.
I made many inquiries from my landlady as to the society of the place,
but the answers I received only led to greater despondence.  My
predecessor here, it seemed, had been an officer of a veteran battalion,
with a wife, and that amount of children which is algebraically expressed
by an X (meaning an unknown quantity).  He, good man, in his two years\x92
sojourn here, had been much more solicitous about his own affairs, than
making acquaintance with his neighbours; and at last, the few persons who
had been in the habit of calling on \x93the officer,\x94 gave up the practice;
and as there were no young ladies to refresh Pa\x92s memory on the matter,
they soon forgot completely that such a person existed--and to this happy
oblivion I, Harry Lorrequer, succeeded, and was thus left without benefit
of clergy to the tender mercies of Mrs. Healy of the Burton arms.

As during the inundation which deluged the whole country around I was
unable to stir from the house, I enjoyed abundant opportunity of
cultivating the acquaintance of my hostess, and it is but fair that my
reader, who has journeyed so far with me, should have an introduction.

Mrs. Healy, the sole proprietor of the \x93Burton Arms,\x94 was of some five
and fifty--\x93or by\x92r lady,\x94 three score years, of a rubicund and hale
complexion; and though her short neck and corpulent figure might have set
her down as \x93doubly hazardous,\x94 she looked a good life for many years to
come.  In height and breadth she most nearly resembled a sugar-hogshead,
whose rolling, pitching motion, when trundled along on edge, she emulated
in her gait.  To the ungainliness of her figure her mode of dressing not
a little contributed.  She usually wore a thick linsey-wolsey gown, with
enormous pockets on either side, and, like Nora Creina\x92s, it certainly
inflicted no undue restrictions upon her charms, but left

                   \x93Every beauty free,
                    To sink or swell as heaven pleases.\x94

Her feet--ye gods! Such feet--were apparelled in listing slippers, over
which the upholstery of her ancles descended, and completely relieved the
mind of the spectator as to the superincumbent weight being
disproportioned to the support; I remember well my first impression on
seeing those feet and ancles reposing upon a straw footstool, while she
took her afternoon dose, and I wondered within myself if elephants were
liable to the gout.  There are few countenances in the world, that if
wishing to convey an idea of, we cannot refer to some well-known
standard; and thus nothing is more common than to hear comparisons with
\x93Vulcan--Venus--Nicodemus,\x94 and the like; but in the present case, I am
totally at a loss for any thing resembling the face of the worth Mrs.
Healy, except it be, perhaps, that most ancient and sour visage we used
to see upon old circular iron rappers formerly--they make none of them
now--the only difference being, that Mrs. Healy\x92s nose had no ring
through it; I am almost tempted to add, \x93more\x92s the pity.\x94

Such was she in \x93the flesh;\x94 would that I could say, she was more
fascinating in the \x93spirit!\x94 but alas, truth, from which I never may
depart in these \x93my confessions,\x94 constrains me to acknowledge the
reverse.  Most persons in this miserable world of ours, have some
prevailing, predominating characteristic, which usually gives the tone
and colour to all their thoughts and actions, forming what we denominate
temperament; this we see actuating them, now more, now less; but rarely,
however, is this great spring of action without its moments of repose.
Not so with her of whom I have been speaking.  She had but one passion
--but, like Aaron\x92s rod, it had a most consuming tendency--and that was to
scold, and abuse, all whom hard fate had brought within the unfortunate
limits of her tyranny.  The English language, comprehensive as it is,
afforded not epithets strong enough for her wrath, and she sought among
the more classic beauties of her native Irish, such additional ones as
served her need, and with this holy alliance of tongues, she had been for
years long, the dread and terror of the entire village.

\x93The dawning of morn, the day-light sinking,\x94 ay, and even the \x93night\x92s
dull hours,\x94 it was said, too, found her labouring in her congenial
occupation; and while thus she continued to \x93scold and grow fat,\x94 her
inn, once a popular and frequented one, became gradually less and less
frequented, and the dragon of the Rhine-fells did not more effectually
lay waste the territory about him, than did the evil influence of her
tongue spread desolation and ruin around her.  Her inn, at the time of my
visit, had not been troubled with even a passing traveller for many
months; and, indeed, if I had any, even the least foreknowledge of the
character of my hostess, its privacy should have still remained uninvaded
for some time longer.

I had not been many hours installed, when I got a specimen of her powers;
and before the first week was over, so constant and unremitting were her
labours in this way, that I have upon the occasion of a slight lull in
the storm, occasioned by her falling asleep, actually left my room to
inquire if anything had gone wrong, in the same was as the miller is said
to awake, if the mill stops.  I trust I have said enough, to move the
reader\x92s pity and compassion for my situation--one more miserable it is
difficult to conceive.  It may be though that much might be done by
management, and that a slight exercise of the favourite Whig plan of
concilliation, might avail.  Nothing of the kind.  She was proof against
all such arts; and what was still worse, there was no subject, no
possible circumstance, no matter, past, present, or to come, that she
could not wind by her diabolical ingenuity, into some cause of offence;
and then came the quick transition to instant punishment.  Thus, my
apparently harmless inquiry as to the society of the neighbourhood,
suggested to her--a wish on my part to make acquaintance--therefore to
dine out--therefore not to dine at home--consequently to escape paying
half-a-crown and devouring a chicken--therefore to defraud her, and
behave, as she would herself observe, \x93like a beggarly scullion, with his
four shillings a day, setting up for a gentleman,\x94 &c.

By a quiet and Job-like endurance of all manner of taunting suspicions,
and unmerited sarcasms, to which I daily became more reconciled, I
absolutely rose into something like favour; and before the first month of
my banishment expired, had got the length of an invitation to tea, in her
own snuggery--an honour never known to be bestowed on any before, with
the exception of Father Malachi Brennan, her ghostly adviser; and even
he, it is said, never ventured on such an approximation to intimacy,
until he was, in Kilrush phrase, \x93half screwed,\x94 thereby meaning more
than half tipsy.  From time to time thus, I learned from my hostess such
particulars of the country and its inhabitants as I was desirous of
hearing; and among other matters, she gave me an account of the great
landed proprietor himself, Lord Callonby, who was daily expected at his
seat, within some miles of Kilrush, at the same time assuring me that I
need not be looking so \x93pleased and curling out my whiskers;\x94 \x93that
they\x92d never take the trouble of asking even the name of me.\x94  This,
though neither very courteous, nor altogether flattering to listen to,
was no more than I had already learned from some brother officers who
knew this quarter, and who informed me that the Earl of Callonby, though
only visiting his Irish estates every three or four years, never took the
slightest notice of any of the military in his neighbourhood; nor, indeed
did he mix with the country gentry, confining himself to his own family,
or the guests, who usually accompanied him from England, and remained
during his few weeks\x92 stay.  My impression of his lordship was therefore
not calculated to cheer my solitude by any prospect of his rendering it
lighter.

The Earl\x92s family consisted of her ladyship, an only son, nearly of age,
and two daughters; the eldest, Lady Jane, had the reputation of being
extremely beautiful; and I remembered when she came out in London, only
the year before, hearing nothing but praises of the grace and elegance of
her manner, united to the most classic beauty of her face and figure.
The second daughter was some years younger, and said to be also very
handsome; but as yet she had not been brought into society.  Of the son,
Lord Kilkee, I only heard that he had been a very gay fellow at Oxford,
where he was much liked, and although not particularly studious, had
given evidence of talent.

Such were the few particulars I obtained of my neighbours, and thus
little did I know of those who were so soon to exercise a most important
influence upon my future life.

After some weeks\x92 close confinement, which, judging from my feelings
alone, I should have counted as many years, I eagerly seized the
opportunity of the first glimpse of sunshine to make a short excursion
along the coast; I started early in the morning, and after a long stroll
along the bold headlands of Kilkee, was returning late in the evening to
my lodgings.  My path lay across a wild, bleak moor, dotted with low
clumps of furze, and not presenting on any side the least trace of
habitation.  In wading through the tangled bushes, my dog \x93Mouche\x94
 started a hare; and after a run \x93sharp, short, and decisive,\x94 killed it
at the bottom of a little glen some hundred yards off.

I was just patting my dog, and examining the prize, when I heard a
crackling among the low bushes near me; and on looking up, perceived,
about twenty paces distant, a short, thick-set man, whose fustian jacket
and leathern gaiters at once pronounced him the gamekeeper; he stood
leaning upon his gun, quietly awaiting, as it seemed, for any movement on
my part, before he interfered.  With one glance I detected how matters
stood, and immediately adopting my usual policy of \x93taking the bull by
the horns,\x94 called out, in a tone of very sufficient authority,

\x93I say, my man, are you his lordship\x92s gamekeeper?\x94

Taking off his hat, the man approached me, and very respectfully informed
me that he was.

\x93Well then,\x94 said I, \x93present this hare to his lordship with my respects;
here is my card, and say I shall be most happy to wait on him in the
morning, and explain the circumstance.\x94

The man took the card, and seemed for some moments undecided how to act;
he seemed to think that probably he might be ill-treating a friend of his
lordship\x92s if he refused; and on the other hand might be merely
\x93jockeyed\x94 by some bold-faced poacher.  Meanwhile I whistled my dog close
up, and humming an air, with great appearance of indifference, stepped
out homeward.  By this piece of presence of mind I saved poor \x93Mouche;\x94
 for I saw at a glance, that, with true gamekeeper\x92s law, he had been
destined to death the moment he had committed the offence.

The following morning, as I sat at breakfast, meditating upon the events
of the preceding day, and not exactly determined how to act, whether to
write to his lordship explaining how the matter occurred, or call
personally, a loud rattling on the pavement drew me to the window.  As
the house stood at the end of a street, I could not see in the direction
the noise came; but as I listened, a very handsome tandem turned the
corner of the narrow street, and came along towards the hotel at a long,
sling trot; the horses were dark chestnuts, well matched, and shewing a
deal of blood.  The carriage was a dark drab, with black wheels; the
harness all of the same colour.  The whole turn-out--and I was an amateur
of that sort of thing--was perfect; the driver, for I come to him last,
as he was the last I looked at, was a fashionable looking young fellow,
plainly, but knowingly, dressed, and evidently handling the \x93ribbon,\x94
 like an experienced whip.

After bringing his nags up to the inn door in very pretty style, he gave
the reins to his servant, and got down.  Before I was well aware of it,
the door of my room opened, and the gentleman entered with a certain easy
air of good breeding, and saying,

\x93Mr. Lorrequer, I presume--\x94 introduced himself as Lord Kilkee.

I immediately opened the conversation by an apology for my dog\x92s
misconduct on the day before, and assured his lordship that I knew the
value of a hare in a hunting country, and was really sorry for the
circumstance.

\x93Then I must say,\x94 replied his lordship, \x93Mr. Lorrequer is the only
person who regrets the matter; for had it not been for this, it is more
than probable we should never have known we were so near neighbours; in
fact, nothing could equal our amazement at hearing you were playing the
\x91Solitaire\x92 down here.  You must have found it dreadfully heavy, \x91and have
thought us downright savages.\x92  But then I must explain to you, that my
father has made some \x91rule absolute\x92 about visiting when down here.  And
though I know you\x92ll not consider it a compliment, yet I can assure you
there is not another man I know of he would pay attention to, but
yourself.  He made two efforts to get here this morning, but the gout
\x91would not be denied,\x92 and so he deputed a most inferior \x91diplomate;\x92 and
now will you let me return with some character from my first mission, and
inform my friends that you will dine with us to-day at seven--a mere
family party; but make your arrangements to stop all night and to-morrow:
we shall find some work for my friend there on the hearth; what do you
call him, Mr. Lorrequer?\x94

\x93\x91Mouche\x92--come here, \x91Mouche.\x92\x94

\x93Ah \x91Mouche,\x92 come here, my fine fellow--a splendid dog, indeed; very
tall for a thorough-bred; and now you\x92ll not forget, seven, \x91temps
militaire,\x92 and so, sans adieu.\x94

And with these words his lordship shook me heartily by the hand; and
before two minutes had elapsed, had wrapped his box-coat once more across
him, and was round the corner.

I looked for a few moments on the again silent street, and was almost
tempted to believe I was in a dream, so rapidly had the preceding moments
passed over; and so surprised was I to find that the proud Earl of
Callonby, who never did the \x93civil thing\x94 any where, should think proper
to pay attention to a poor sub in a marching regiment, whose only claim
on his acquaintance was the suspicion of poaching on his manor.  I
repeated over and over all his lordship\x92s most polite speeches, trying to
solve the mystery of them; but in vain: a thousand explanations occurred,
but none of them I felt at all satisfactory; that there was some mystery
somewhere, I had no doubt; for I remarked all through that Lord Kilkee
laid some stress upon my identity, and even seemed surprised at my being
is such banishment.  \x93Oh,\x94 thought I at last, \x93his lordship is about to
get up private theatricals, and has seen my Captain Absolute, or perhaps
my Hamlet\x94--I could not say \x93Othello\x94 even to myself--\x93and is anxious to
get \x91such unrivalled talent\x92 even \x91for one night only.\x92\x94

After many guesses this seemed the nearest I could think of; and by the
time I had finished my dressing for dinner, it was quite clear to me I
had solved all the secret of his lordship\x92s attentions.

The road to \x93Callonby\x94 was beautiful beyond any thing I had ever seen in
Ireland.  For upwards of two miles it led along the margin of the lofty
cliffs of Moher, now jutting out into bold promontories, and again
retreating, and forming small bays and mimic harbours, into which the
heavy swell of the broad Atlantic was rolling its deep blue tide.  The
evening was perfectly calm, and at a little distance from the shore the
surface of the sea was without a ripple.  The only sound breaking the
solemn stillness of the hour, was the heavy plash of the waves, as in
minute peals they rolled in upon the pebbly beach, and brought back with
them at each retreat, some of the larger and smoother stones, whose
noise, as they fell back into old ocean\x92s bed, mingled with the din of
the breaking surf.  In one of the many little bays I passed, lay three or
four fishing smacks.  The sails were drying, and flapped lazily against
the mast.  I could see the figures of the men as they passed backwards and
forwards upon the decks, and although the height was nearly eight hundred
feet, could hear their voices quite distinctly.  Upon the golden strand,
which was still marked with a deeper tint, where the tide had washed,
stood a little white cottage of some fisherman--at least, so the net
before the door bespoke it.  Around it, stood some children, whose merry
voices and laughing tones sometimes reached me where I was standing.  I
could not but think, as I looked down from my lofty eyrie, upon that
little group of boats, and that lone hut, how much of the \x93world\x94 to the
humble dweller beneath, lay in that secluded and narrow bay.  There, the
deep sea, where their days were passed in \x93storm or sunshine,\x94--there,
the humble home, where at night they rested, and around whose hearth lay
all their cares and all their joys.  How far, how very far removed from
the busy haunts of men, and all the struggles and contentions of the
ambitious world; and yet, how short-sighted to suppose that even they had
not their griefs and sorrows, and that their humble lot was devoid of the
inheritance of those woes, which all are heirs to.

I turned reluctantly, from the sea-shore to enter the gate of the park,
and my path in a few moments was as completely screened from all prospect
of the sea, as though it had lain miles inland.  An avenue of tall and
ancient lime trees, so dense in their shadows as nearly to conceal the
road beneath, led for above a mile through a beautiful lawn, whose
surface, gently undulating, and studded with young clumps, was dotted
over with sheep.  At length, descending by a very steep road, I reached a
beautiful little stream, over which a rustic bridge was thrown.  As I
looked down upon the rippling stream beneath, on the surface of which the
dusky evening flies were dipping, I made a resolve, if I prospered in his
lordship\x92s good graces, to devote a day to the \x93angle\x94 there, before I
left the country.  It was now growing late, and remember Lord Kilkee\x92s
intimation of \x93sharp seven,\x94 I threw my reins over my cob, \x93Sir Roger\x92s\x94
 neck, (for I had hitherto been walking,) and cantered up the steep hill
before me.  When I reached the top, I found myself upon a broad table
land, encircled by old and well-grown timber, and at a distance, most
tastefully half concealed by ornamental planting, I could catch some
glimpse of Callonby.  Before, however, I had time to look about me, I
heard the tramp of horses\x92 feet behind, and in another moment two ladies
dashed up the steep behind, and came towards me, at a smart gallop,
followed by a groom, who, neither himself nor his horse, seemed to relish
the pace of his fair mistresses.  I moved off the road into the grass to
permit them to pass; but no sooner had they got abreast of me, than Sir
Roger, anxious for a fair start, flung up both heels at once, pricked up
his ears, and with a plunge that very nearly threw me from the saddle,
set off at top speed.  My first thought was for the ladies beside me,
and, to my utter horror, I now saw them coming along in full gallop; their
horses had got off the road, and were, to my thinking, become quite
unmanageable.  I endeavoured to pull up, but all in vain.  Sir Roger had
got the bit between his teeth, a favourite trick of his, and I was
perfectly powerless to hold him by this time, they being mounted on
thoroughbreds, got a full neck before me, and the pace was now
tremendous, on we all came, each horse at his utmost stretch; they were
evidently gaining from the better stride of their cattle, and will it be
believed, or shall I venture to acknowledge it in these my confessions,
that I, who a moment before, would have given my best chance of
promotion, to be able to pull in my horse, would now have \x93pledged my
dukedom\x94 to be able to give Sir Roger one cut of the whip unobserved.  I
leave it to the wise to decipher the rationale, but such is the fact.  It
was complete steeple-chasing, and my blood was up.

On we came, and I now perceived that about two hundred yards before me
stood an iron gate and piers, without any hedge or wall on either side;
before I could conjecture the meaning of so strange a thing in the midst
of a large lawn, I saw the foremost horse, now two or three lengths
before the other, still in advance of me, take two or three short
strides, and fly about eight feet over a sunk fence--the second followed
in the same style, the riders sitting as steadily as in the gallop.  It
was now my turn, and I confess, as I neared the dyke, I heartily wished
myself well over it, for the very possibility of a \x93mistake\x94 was
maddening.  Sir Roger came on at a slapping pace, and when within two
yards of the brink, rose to it, and cleared it like a deer.  By the time
I had accomplished this feat, not the less to my satisfaction, that both
ladies had turned in the saddles to watch me, they were already far in
advance; they held on still at the same pace, round a small copse which
concealed them an instant from my view, and which, when I passed, I
perceived that they had just reached the hall door, and were dismounting.

On the steps stood a tall, elderly-looking, gentleman-like person, who I
rightly conjectured was his lordship.  I heard him laughing heartily as I
came up.  I at last succeeded in getting Sir Roger to a canter, and when
about twenty yards from where the group were standing, sprung off, and
hastened up to make my apologies as I best might, for my unfortunate
runaway.  I was fortunately spared this awkwardness of an explanation,
for his lordship, approaching me with his hand extended, said--

\x93Mr. Lorrequer is most welcome at Callonby.  I cannot be mistaken, I am
sure--I have the pleasure of addressing the nephew of my old friend, Sir
Guy Lorrequer of Elton.  I am indeed most happy to see you, and not the
less so, that you are safe and sound, which, five minutes since, I assure
you I had my fears for--\x94

Before I could assure his lordship that my fears were all for my
competitors in the race--for such in reality they were--he introduced me
to the two ladies, who were still standing beside him--\x93Lady Jane
Callonby; Mr. Lorrequer; Lady Catherine.\x94

\x93Which of you, young ladies, may I ask, planned this escapade, for I see
by your looks, it was no accident?\x94

\x93I think, papa,\x94 said Lady Jane, \x93you must question Mr. Lorrequer on that
head; he certainly started first.\x94

\x93I confess, indeed,\x94 said I, \x93such was the case.\x94

\x93Well, you must confess, too, you were distanced,\x94 said Lady Jane, at the
same time, most terribly provoked, to be quizzed on such a matter; that
I, a steeple-chase horseman of the first water, should be twitted by a
couple of young ladies, on the score of a most manly exercise.  \x93But
come,\x94 said his lordship, \x93the first bell has rung long since, and I am
longing to ask Mr. Lorrequer all about my old college friend of forty
years ago.  So, ladies, hasten your toilet, I beseech you.\x94

With these words, his lordship, taking my arm, led me into the
drawing-room, where we had not been many minutes till we were joined
by her ladyship, a tall stately handsome woman, of a certain age;
resolutely bent upon being both young and beautiful, in spite of time
and wrinkles; her reception of me, though not possessing the frankness
of his lordship, was still very polite, and intended to be even
gracious.  I now found by the reiterated inquiries for my old uncle, Sir
Guy, that he it was, and not Hamlet, to whom I owed my present notice,
and I must include it among my confessions, that it was about the first
advantage I ever derived from the relationship.  After half an hour\x92s
agreeable chatting, the ladies entered, and then I had time to remark
the extreme beauty of their appearance; they were both wonderfully like,
and except that Lady Jane was taller and more womanly, it would have
been almost impossible to discriminate between them.

Lady Jane Callonby was then about twenty years of age, rather above the
middle size, and slightly disposed towards embonpoint; her eye was of the
deepest and most liquid blue, and rendered apparently darker, by long
lashes of the blackest jet--for such was the colour of her hair; her nose
slightly, but slightly, deviated from the straightness of the Greek, and
her upper lip was faultless, as were her mouth and chin; the whole lower
part of the face, from the perfect \x93chiselling,\x94 and from the character
of her head, had certainly a great air of hauteur, but the extreme
melting softness of her eyes took from this, and when she spoke, there
was a quiet earnestness in her mild and musical voice, that disarmed you
at once of connecting the idea of self with the speaker; the word
\x93fascinating,\x94 more than any other I know of, conveys the effect of her
appearance, and to produce it, she had more than any other woman I ever
met, that wonderful gift, the \x93l\x92art de plaire.\x94

I was roused from my perhaps too earnest, because unconscious gaze, at
the lovely figure before me, by his Lordship saying, \x93Mr. Lorrequer, her
Ladyship is waiting for you.\x94  I accordingly bowed, and, offering my arm,
led her into the dinner-room.  And here I draw rein for the present,
reserving for my next chapter--My Adventure at Callonby.



CHAPTER III.

LIFE AT CALLONBY--LOVE-MAKING--MISS O\x92DOWD\x92S ADVENTURE.

My first evening at Callonby passed off as nearly all first evenings do
every where.  His lordship was most agreeable, talked much of my uncle,
Sir Guy, whose fag he had been at Eton half a century before, promised me
some capital shooting in his preserves, discussed the state of politics;
and, as the second decanter of port \x93waned apace,\x94 grew wondrous
confidential, and told me of his intention to start his son for the
county at the next general election, such being the object which had
now conferred the honour of his presence on his Irish estates.

Her ladyship was most condescendingly civil, vouchsafed much tender
commiseration for my \x93exile,\x94 as she termed my quarters in Kilrush;
wondered how I could possibly exist in a marching regiment, (who had
never been in the cavalry in my life!)  Spoke quite feelingly on my
kindness in joining their stupid family party, for they were living, to
use her own phrase, \x93like hermits;\x94 and wound up all by a playful
assurance that as she perceived, from all my answers, that I was bent on
preserving a strict incognito, she would tell no tales about me on her
return to \x93Town.\x94  Now, it may readily be believed, that all this, and
many more of her ladyship\x92s allusions, were a \x93Chaldee manuscript\x94 to me;
that she knew certain facts of my family and relations, was certain; but
that she had interwoven in the humble web of my history, a very pretty
embroidery of fiction was equally so; and while she thus ran on, with
innumerable allusions to Lady Marys and Lord Johns, who she pretended to
suppose were dying to hear from me, I could not help muttering to myself
with good Christopher Sly, \x93And all this be true--then Lord be thanked
for my good amends;\x94 for up to that moment I was an ungrateful man for
all this high and noble solicitude.  One dark doubt shot for an instant
across my brain.  Maybe her ladyship had \x93registered a vow\x94 never to
syllable a name unchronicled by Debrett, or was actually only mystifying
me for mere amusement.  A minute\x92s consideration dispelled this fear;
for I found myself treated \x93en Seigneur\x94 by the whole family.  As for
the daughters of the house, nothing could possibly be more engaging than
their manner.  The eldest, Lady Jane, was pleased from my near
relationship to her father\x92s oldest friend to receive me, \x93from the
first,\x94 on the most friendly footing; while, with the younger, Lady
Catherine, from her being less \x91maniere\x92 than her sister, my progress was
even greater; and thus, before we separated for the night, I contrived to
\x93take up my position\x94 in such a fashion, as to be already looked upon as
one of the family party, to which object, Lord and indeed Lady Callonby
seemed most willing to contribute, and made me promise to spend the
entire of the following day at Callonby, and as many of the succeeding
ones as my military duties would permit.

As his lordship was wishing me \x93good night\x94 at the door of the
drawing-room, he said, in a half whisper,

\x93We were ignorant yesterday, Mr. Lorrequer, how soon we should have had
the pleasure of seeing you here; and you are therefore condemned to a
small room off the library, it being the only one we can insure you as
being well aired.  I must therefore apprize you that you are not to be
shocked at finding yourself surrounded by every member of my family,
hung up in frames around you.  But as the room is usually my own
snuggery, I have resigned it without any alteration whatever.\x94

The apartment for which his lordship had so strongly apologized, stood in
very pleasing contrast to my late one in Kilrush.  The soft Persian
carpet, on which one\x92s feet sank to the very ankles; the brightly
polished dogs, upon which a blazing wood fire burned; the well
upholstered fauteuils which seemed to invite sleep without the trouble of
lying down for it; and last of all, the ample and luxurious bed, upon
whose rich purple hangings the ruddy glare of the fire threw a most
mellow light, was all a pleasing exchange for the \x93garniture\x94 of the
\x93Hotel Healy.\x94

\x93Certes, Harry Lorrequer,\x94 said I, as I threw myself upon a small ottoman
before the fire in all the slippered ease, and abandon of a man who has
changed a dress-coat for a morning-gown; \x93Certes, thou art destined for
great things; even here, where fate had seemed \x91to do its worst\x92 to thee,
a little paradise opens, and what, to ordinary mortals had proved but a
\x91flat, stale, and most unprofitable\x92 quarter, presents to thee all the
accumulated delight of a hospitable mansion, a kind, almost friendly,
host, a condescending Madame Mere, and daughters too!  Ah ye Gods!  But
what is this;\x94 and here, for the first time, lifting up my eyes, I
perceived a beautiful water-colour drawing in the style of \x93Chalon,\x94
 which was placed above the chimney-piece.  I rose at once, and taking a
candle, proceeded to examine it more minutely.  It was a portrait of Lady
Jane, a full-length too, and wonderfully like; there was more complexion,
and perhaps more roundness in the figure than her present appearance
would justify; but if any thing was gained in brilliancy, it was
certainly lost in point of expression; and I infinitely preferred her
pale, but beautifully fair countenance, to the rosy cheek of the picture;
the figure was faultless; the same easy grace, the result of perfect
symmetry and refinement together, which only one in a thousand of even
handsome girls possess, was pourtrayed to the life.  The more I looked,
the more I felt charmed with it.  Never had I seen any thing so truly
characteristic as this sketch, for it was scarcely more.  It was after
nearly an hour\x92s quiet contemplation, that I began to remember the
lateness of the night; an hour, in which my thoughts had rambled from the
lovely object before me, to wonder at the situation in which I found
myself placed; for there was so much of \x93empressement\x94 towards me, in the
manner of every member of the family, coupled with certain mistakes as to
my habits and acquaintances, as left me perfectly unable to unravel the
mystery which so evidently surrounded me.  \x93Perhaps,\x94 thought I, \x93Sir Guy
has written in my behalf to his lordship.  Oh, he would never do any
thing half so civil.  Well, to be sure, I shall astonish them at head
quarters; they\x92ll not believe this.  I wonder if Lady Jane saw my
\x91Hamlet;\x92 for they landed in Cork from Bristol about that time.  She is
indeed a most beautiful girl.  I wish I were a marquis, if it were only
for her sake.  Well, my Lord Callonby, you may be a very wise man in the
House of Lords; but, I would just ask, is it exactly prudent to introduce
into your family on terms of such perfect intimacy, a young, fascinating,
well-looking fellow, of four-and-twenty, albeit only a subaltern, with
two such daughters as you have?  Peut etre!  One thing is certain--I have
no cause of complaint; and so, good night, Lady Jane\x94--and with those
words I fell asleep, to dream of the deepest blue eyes, and the most
melting tones that ever reduced a poor lieutenant in a marching regiment
to curse his fate, that he could not call the Commander of the Forces his
father.

When I descended to the breakfast-room, I found the whole family
assembled in a group around Lord Kilkee, who had just returned from a
distant part of the county, where he had been canvassing the electors,
and spouting patriotism the day before.  He was giving an account of his
progress with much spirit and humour as I entered, but, on seeing me,
immediately came forward, and shook hands with me like an old
acquaintance.  By Lord Callonby and the ladies I was welcomed also
with much courtesy and kindness, and some slight badinage passed upon my
sleeping, in what Lord Kilkee called the \x93Picture Gallery,\x94 which, for
all I knew to the contrary, contained but one fair portrait.  I am not a
believer in Mesmer; but certainly there must have been some influence at
work--very like what we hear of \x93magnetism\x94--for before the breakfast was
concluded, there seemed at once to spring up a perfect understanding
between this family and myself, which made me feel as much \x91chez moi\x92,
as I had ever done in my life; and from that hour I may date an intimacy
which every succeeding day but served to increase.

After breakfast Lord Callonby consigned me to the guidance of his son,
and we sallied forth to deal destruction amongst the pheasants, with
which the preserves were stocked; and here I may observe, \x91en passant\x92,
that with the single exception of fox-hunting, which was ever a passion
with me, I never could understand that inveterate pursuit of game to
which some men devote themselves--thus, grouse-shooting, and its
attendant pleasures, of stumping over a boggy mountain from day-light
till dark, never had much attraction for me; and, as to the delights of
widgeon and wild-duck shooting, when purchased by sitting up all night in
a barrel, with your eye to the bung, I\x92ll none of it--no, no! Give me
shooting or angling merely as a divertimento, a pleasant interlude
between breakfast and luncheon-time, when, consigning your Manton to a
corner, and the game keeper \x93to the dogs,\x94 you once more humanize your
costume to take a canter with the daughters of the house; or, if the day
look loweringly, a match of billiards with the men.

I have ever found that the happiest portions of existence are the most
difficult to chronicle.  We may--nay, we must, impart our miseries and
annoyances to our many \x93dear friends,\x94 whose forte is sympathy or
consolation--and all men are eloquent on the subject of their woes; not
so with their joys: some have a miser-like pleasure in hoarding them up
for their own private gratification; others--and they are prudent--feel
that the narrative is scarcely agreeable even to their best friends; and
a few, of whom I confess myself one, are content to be happy without
knowing why, and to have pleasant souvenirs, without being able to
explain them.

Such must be my apology for not more minutely entering upon an account of
my life at Callonby.  A fortnight had now seen me \x91enfonce\x92, the daily
companion of two beautiful girls in all their walks and rides, through a
romantic, unfrequented country, seeing but little of the other members of
the family; the gentlemen being entirely occupied by their election
tactics, and Lady Callonby being a late riser, seldom appeared before the
dinner hour.  There was not a cliff upon the bold and rocky coast we did
not climb, not a cave upon the pebbly beach unvisited; sometimes my fair
companions would bring a volume of Metastasio down to the little river
where I used to angle; and the \x93gentle craft\x94 was often abandoned for the
heart-thrilling verses of that delightful poet.  Yes, many years have
passed over, and these scenes are still as fresh in my memory as though
they had been of yesterday.  In my memory, I say, as for thee

                         \x93Qui sa si te
                          Ti sovrerai di me.\x94

At the end of three weeks the house became full of company, from the
garret to the cellar.  Country gentlemen and their wives and daughters
came pouring in, on every species of conveyance known since the flood;
family coaches, which, but for their yellow panels, might have been
mistaken for hearses, and high barouches, the \x93entree\x94 to which was
accomplished by a step-ladder, followed each other in what appeared a
never-ending succession; and here I may note an instance of the anomalous
character of the conveyances, from an incident to which I was a witness
at the time.

Among the visitors on the second day came a maiden lady from the
neighbourhood of Ennistimon, Miss Elizabeth O\x92Dowd, the last of a very
old and highly respectable family in the county, and whose extensive
property, thickly studded with freeholders, was a strong reason for her
being paid every attention in Lord Callonby\x92s power to bestow; Miss Betty
O\x92Dowd--for so she was generally styled--was the very personification of
an old maid; stiff as a ramrod, and so rigid in observance of the
proprieties of female conduct, that in the estimation of the Clare
gentry, Diana was a hoyden compared to her.

Miss Betty lived, as I have said, near Ennistimon, and the road from
thence to Callonby at the time I speak of--it was before Mr. Nimmo--was a
like the bed of a mountain torrent as a respectable highway; there were
holes that would have made a grave for any maiden lady within fifty
miles; and rocks thickly scattered, enough to prove fatal to the
strongest wheels that ever issued from \x93Hutton\x92s.\x94  Miss O\x92Dowd knew this
well; she had upon one occasion been upset in travelling it--and a
slate-coloured silk dress bore the dye of every species of mud and mire
to be found there, for many a year after, to remind her of her
misfortune, and keep open the wound of her sorrow.  When, therefore, the
invitation to Callonby arrived, a grave council of war was summoned, to
deliberate upon the mode of transit, for the honour could not be
declined, \x93coute qui coute.\x94  The chariot was out of the question;
Nicholas declared it would never reach the \x93Moraan Beg,\x94 as the first
precipice was called; the inside car was long since pronounced unfit for
hazardous enterprise; and the only resource left, was what is called in
Hibernian parlance, a \x93low-backed car,\x94 that is, a car without any back
whatever; it being neither more nor less than the common agricultural
conveyance of the country, upon which, a feather bed being laid, the
farmers\x92 wives and daughters are generally conveyed to fairs, wakes, and
stations, &c.  Putting her dignity, if not in her pocket, at least
wherever it could be most easily accommodated, Miss O\x92Dowd placed her
fair self, in all the plenitude of her charms and the grandeur of a
\x93bran new green silk,\x94 a \x93little off the grass, and on the bottle,\x94
 (I love to be particular,) upon this humble voiture, and set out on her
way, if not \x93rejoicing,\x94 at least consoled by Nicholas, that \x93It \x91id be
black dark when they reached the house, and the devil a one \x91id be the
wiser than if she came in a coach and four.\x94 Nicholas was right; it was
perfectly dark on their arrival at Callonby, and Miss O\x92Dowd having
dismounted, and shook her plumage, a little crumpled by her
half-recumbent position for eight miles, appeared in the drawing-room,
to receive the most courteous attentions from Lady Callonby, and from
his lordship the most flattering speeches for her kindness in risking
herself and bringing her horses on such a dreadful road, and assured her
of his getting a presentment the very next assizes to repair it; \x93For we
intend, Miss O\x92Dowd,\x94 said he, \x93to be most troublesome neighbours to you
in future.\x94

The evening passed off most happily.  Miss O\x92Dowd was delighted with her
hosts, whose character she resolved to maintain in spite of their
reputation for pride and haughtiness.  Lady Jane sang an Irish melody for
her, Lady Callonby gave her slips of a rose geranium she got from the
Princess Augusta, and Lord Kilkee won her heart by the performance of
that most graceful step \x91yclept \x93cover the buckle\x94 in an Irish jig.  But,
alas!  how short-lived is human bliss, for while this estimable lady
revelled in the full enjoyment of the hour, the sword of Damocles hung
suspended above her head; in plain English, she had, on arriving at
Callonby, to prevent any unnecessary scrutiny into the nature of her
conveyance, ordered Nicholas to be at the door punctually at eleven; and
then to take an opportunity of quietly slipping open the drawing-room
door, and giving her an intimation of it, that she might take her leave
at once.  Nicholas was up to time, and having disposed the conveyance
under the shadow of the porch, made his way to the door of the
drawing-room unseen and unobserved.  He opened it gently and
noiselessly, merely sufficient to take a survey of the apartment, in
which, from the glare of the lights, and the busy hum of voices, he was
so bewildered that it was some minutes before he recognized his
mistress.  At last he perceived her; she was seated at a card-table,
playing whist with Lord Callonby for her partner.  Who the other players
were, he knew not.  A proud man was Nicholas, as he saw his mistress
thus placed, actually sitting, as he afterwards expressed it, \x93forenint
the Lord,\x94 but his thoughts were bent on other matters, and it was no
time to indulge his vauntings.

He strove for some time patiently, to catch her eye, for she was so
situated as to permit of this, but without success.  He then made a
slight attempt to attract her attention by beckoning with his finger; all
in vain.  \x93Oh murther,\x94 said he, \x93what is this for?  I\x92ll have to spake
afther all.\x94

\x93Four by honours,\x94 said his lordship, \x93and the odd trick.  Another
double, I believe, Miss O\x92Dowd.\x94

Miss O\x92Dowd nodded a graceful assent, while a sharp-looking old dowager
at the side of the table called out, \x93a rubber of four on, my Lord;\x94 and
now began an explanation from the whole party at once.  Nicholas saw this
was his time, and thought that in the melee, his hint might reach his
mistress unobserved by the remainder of the company.  He accordingly
protruded his head into the room, and placing his finger upon the side of
his nose, and shutting one eye knowingly, with an air of great secrecy,
whispered out, \x93Miss Betty--Miss Betty, alanah!\x94  For some minutes the
hum of the voices drowned his admonitions--but as, by degrees waxing
warmer in the cause, he called out more loudly,--every eye was turned to
the spot from whence these extraordinary sounds proceeded; and certainly
the appearance of Nicholas at the moment was well calculated to astonish
the \x93elegans\x94 of a drawing room.  With his one eye fixed eagerly in the
direction of his mistress, his red scratch wig pushed back off his
forehead, in the eagerness of his endeavour to be heard, there he stood,
perfectly unmindful of all around, save Miss O\x92Dowd herself.  It may well
be believed, that such an apparition could not be witnessed with gravity,
and, accordingly a general titter ran through the room, the whist party
still contending about odd tricks and honours, being the only persons
insensible to the mirth around them--\x93Miss Betty, arrah, Miss Betty,\x94
 said Nicholas with a sigh that converted the subdued laughter of the
guests into a perfect burst of mirth.

\x93Eh,\x94 said his lordship, turning round; \x93what is this? We are losing
something excellent, I fear.\x94

At this moment, he caught a glimpse of Nicholas, and, throwing himself
back in this chair, laughed immoderately.  It was now Miss Betty\x92s turn;
she was about to rise from the table, when the well-known accents of
Nicholas fell upon her ear.  She fell back in her seat--there he was: the
messenger of the foul fiend himself would have been more welcome at that
moment.  Her blood rushed to her face and temples; her hands tingled; she
closed her eyes, and when she opened them, there stood the accursed
Nicholas glowering at her still.

\x93Man--man!\x94 said she at length; \x93what do you mean, what do you want
here?\x94

Poor Nicholas, little guessing that the question was intended to throw a
doubt upon her acquaintance with him, and conceiving that the hour for
the announcement had come, hesitated for an instant how he should
designate the conveyance.  He could not call it a coach!  It certainly
was not a buggy--neither was it a jaunting car--what should he say--he
looked earnestly, and even imploringly at his mistress, as if to convey
some sense of his difficulty, and then, as it were, catching a sudden
inspiration, winked once more--as he said:--

\x93Miss Betty--the--the--the--,\x94 and here he looked indescribably droll;
\x93the thing, you know, is at the door.\x94

All his Lordship\x92s politeness was too little for the occasion, and Miss
O\x92Dowd\x92s tenantry were lost to the Callonby interest for ever.



CHAPTER IV.

BOTANICAL STUDIES--THE NATURAL SYSTEM PREFERABLE TO THE LINNEAN.

\x93The carriage is at the door, my lord,\x94 said a servant, entering the
luncheon-room where we were all assembled.

\x93Now then, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said Lord Callonby, \x93allons, take another
glass of wine, and let us away.  I expect you to make a most brilliant
speech, remember!\x94

His lordship here alluded to our intention of visiting a remote barony,
where a meeting of the freeholders was that day to be held, and at which
I was pledged for a \x93neat and appropriate\x94 oration in abuse of the corn
laws and the holy alliance.

\x93I beg pardon, my lord,\x94 said her ladyship in a most languishing tone;
\x93but Mr. Lorrequer is pre-engaged; he has for the last week been
promising and deterring his visit to the new conservatory with me; where
he is to find out four or five of the Swiss shrubs that Collins cannot
make out--and which I am dying to know all about.\x94

\x93Mr. Lorrequer is a false man then,\x94 said Lady Catherine, \x93for he said at
breakfast, that we should devote this afternoon to the chalk caves--as
the tide will be so far out, we can see them all perfectly.\x94

\x93And I,\x94 said Lord Kilkee, \x93must put in my plea, that the aforesaid Mr.
Lorrequer is booked for a coursing match--\x91Mouche versus Jessie.\x92--Guilty
or not guilty?\x94

Lady Jane alone of all said not a word.

\x93Guilty on every count of the indictment,\x94 said I; \x93I throw myself on the
mercy of the court.\x94

\x93Let his sentence then be banishment,\x94 said Lady Catherine with affected
anger, \x93and let him go with papa.\x94

\x93I rather think,\x94 said Lord Kilkee, \x93the better plan is to let him visit
the conservatory, for I\x92d wager a fifty he finds it more difficult to
invent botany, than canvass freeholders; eh?\x94

\x93I am sure,\x94 said Lady Jane, for the first time breaking silence, \x93that
mamma is infinitely flattered by the proposal that Mr. Lorrequer\x92s
company is to be conferred upon her for his sins.\x94

\x93I am not to be affronted, nor quizzed out of my chaperon; here, Mr.
Lorrequer,\x94 said Lady Callonby rising, \x93get Smith\x92s book there, and let
me have your arm; and now, young ladies, come along, and learn something,
if you can.\x94

\x93An admirable proviso,\x94 said Lord Kilkee, laughing; \x93if his botany be
only as authentic as the autographs he gave Mrs. MacDermot, and all of
which he wrote himself, in my dressing-room, in half an hour.  Napoleon
was the only difficult one in the number.\x94

Most fortunately this unfair disclosure did not reach her ladyship\x92s
ears, as she was busily engaged putting on her bonnet, and I was yet
unassailed in reputation to her.

\x93Good bye, then,\x94 said Lord Callonby; \x93we meet at seven;\x94 and in a few
moments the little party were scattered to their several destinations.

\x93How very hot you have this place, Collins,\x94 said Lady Callonby as we
entered the conservatory.

\x93Only seventy-five, my lady, and the Magnolias require heat.\x94

I here dropped a little behind, as if to examine a plant, and in a
half-whisper said to Lady Jane--

\x93How came it that you alone, Lady Jane, should forget I had made another
appointment?  I thought you wished to make a sketch of Craigmoran Abbey
--did you forget that we were to ride there to-day?\x94

Before she could reply, Lady Callonby called out--\x93Oh, here it is, Mr.
Lorrequer.  Is this a heath? that is the question.\x94

Here her ladyship pointed to a little scrubby thing, that looked very
like a birch rod.  I proceeded to examine it most minutely, while Collins
waited with all the intense anxiety of a man whose character depended on
the sentence.

\x93Collins will have it a jungermania,\x94 said she.

\x93And Collins is right,\x94 said I, not trusting myself with the
pronunciation of the awful word her ladyship uttered.

Collins looked ridiculously happy.

\x93Now that is so delightful,\x94 said Lady Callonby, as she stopped to look
for another puzzle.

\x93What a wretch it is,\x94 said Lady Catherine, covering her face with a
handkerchief.

\x93What a beautiful little flower,\x94 said Lady Jane, lifting up the bell of
a \x93lobelia splendens.\x94

\x93You know, of course,\x94 said I, \x93what they call that flower in France
--L\x92amour tendre.\x94

\x93Indeed!\x94

\x93True, I assure you; may I present you with this sprig of it,\x94 cutting
off a small twig, and presenting it at the same instant unseen by the
others.

She hesitated for an instant, and then extending her fair and taper hand
took it.  I dared not look at her as she did so, but a proud swelling
triumph at my heart nearly choked me.

\x93Now Collins,\x94 said Lady Callonby, \x93I cannot find the Alpen tree I
brought home from the Grundenwald.\x94

Collins hurried forward to her ladyship\x92s side.

Lady Catherine was also called to assist in the search.

I was alone with Lady Jane.

\x93Now or never,\x94 thought I; I hesitated--I stammered--my voice faltered.
She saw my agitation; she participated in, and increased it.  At last I
summoned up courage to touch her hand; she gently withdrew it--but so
gently, it was not a repulse.

\x93If Lady Jane,\x94 said I at length, \x93if the devoted--\x94

\x93Holloa, there,\x94 said a deep voice without; \x93is Mr. Lorrequer there?\x94

It was Lord Kilkee, returned from his coursing match.  None but he who
has felt such an interruption, can feel for me.  I shame to say that his
brotherhood to her, for whom I would have perilled my life, restrained me
not from something very like a hearty commendation of him to the powers
that burn--

\x93Down, dogs, there--down,\x94 continued he, and in a moment after entered
the conservatory flushed and heated with the chace.

\x93Mouche is the winner--two to one--and so, Master Shallow, I owe you a
thousand pounds.\x94

Would to heaven that I had lost the wager, had it only taken a little
longer to decide it!  I of course appeared overjoyed at my dog\x92s success,
and listened with great pretence of interest to the narrative of the
\x93run;\x94 the more so, because that though perhaps more my friend than the
older members of the family, Lord Kilkee evidently liked less than them,
my growing intimacy with his sister; and I was anxious to blind him on
the present occasion, when, but for his recent excitement, very little
penetration would have enabled him to detect that something unusual had
taken place.

It was now so nearly dark, that her ladyship\x92s further search for the
alpine treasure became impossible, and so we turned our steps towards the
garden, where we continued to walk till joined by Lord Callonby.  And now
began a most active discussion upon agriculture, rents, tithes, and
toryism, in which the ladies took but little part; and I had the
mortification to perceive that Lady Jane was excessively \x91ennuyee\x92, and
seized the first opportunity to leave the party and return to the house;
while her sister gave me from time to time certain knowing glances, as if
intimating that my knowledge of farming and political economy was pretty
much on a par with my proficiency in botany.

One has discovered me at least, thought I; but the bell had rung to dress
for dinner, and I hastened to my room to think over future plans, and
once more wonder at the singular position into which fate and the \x93rules
of the service\x94 had thrown me.



CHAPTER V.

PUZZLED--EXPLANATION--MAKES BAD WORSE--THE DEED

\x93Any letters?\x94 said her ladyship to a servant, as she crossed the hall.

\x93Only one, my lady--for Mr. Lorrequer, I believe.\x94

\x93For me!\x94 thought I; \x93how is this?\x94  My letters had been hitherto always
left in Kilrush.  Why was this forwarded here?  I hurried to the
drawing-room, where I found a double letter awaiting me.  The writing was
Curzon\x92s and contained the words \x93to be forwarded with haste\x94 on the
direction.  I opened and read as follows:--

\x93Dear Lorrequer,--Have you any recollection, among your numerous
\x91escapades\x92 at Cork, of having grievously insulted a certain Mr. Giles
Beamish, in thought, word, or deed?  If you have, I say, let me know with
all convenient despatch, whether the offence be one admitting of apology
--for if not, the Lord have mercy on your soul--a more wrothy gentleman
than the aforesaid, it having rarely been my evil fortune to foregather
with.  He called here yesterday to inquire your address, and at my
suggestion wrote a note, which I now enclose.  I write in great haste,
and am ever yours faithfully,  C. Curzon.

\x93N.B.--I have not seen his note, so explain all and every thing.\x94

The inclosed letter ran thus:

\x93Sir,--It can scarcely have escaped your memory, though now nearly two
months since, that at the Mayor\x92s \x91dejeune\x92 in Cork, you were pleased to
make merry at my expense, and expose me and my family for your amusement.
This is to demand an immediate apology, or that satisfaction which, as an
officer, you will not refuse your most obedient servant, Giles Beamish,
Swinburne\x92s Hotel.\x94

\x93Giles Beamish!  Giles Beamish!\x94 said I, repeating the name in every
variety of emphasis, hoping to obtain some clue to the writer.  Had I
been appointed the umpire between Dr. Wall and his reviewers, in the late
controversy about \x93phonetic signs,\x94 I could not have been more completely
puzzled than by the contents of this note.  \x93Make merry at his expense!\x94
 a great offence truly--I suppose I have laughed at better men than ever
he was; and I can only say of such innocent amusement, as Falstaff did of
sack and sugar, if such be a sin, \x93then heaven help the wicked.\x94  But I
wish I knew who he is, or what he alludes to, provided he is not mad,
which I begin to think not improbable.  \x93By the bye, my Lord, do you know
any such person in the south as a Mr. Beamish--Giles Beamish?\x94

\x93To be sure,\x94 said Lord Callonby, looking up from his newspaper, \x93there
are several of the name of the highest respectability.  One is an
alderman of Cork--a very rich man, too--but I don\x92t remember his
Christian name.\x94

\x93An alderman, did you say?\x94

\x93Yes.  Alderman Beamish is very well known.  I have seen him frequently
--a short florid, little man.\x94

\x93Oh, it must be him,\x94 said I, musingly, \x93it must have been this worthy
alderman, from whose worshipful person I tore the robe of office on the
night of the fete.  But what does he mean by \x91my exposing him and his
family?\x92  Why, zounds, his wife and children were not with him on the
pavement.  Oh, I see it; it is the mansion-house school of eloquence; did
not Sir William Curtis apologise for not appearing at court, from having
lost an eye, which he designated as an awful \x91domestic calamity.\x92\x94

It being now settled to my satisfaction, that Mr. Beamish and the great
uncloaked were \x93convertible terms,\x94 I set about making the \x91amende\x92 in
the most handsome manner possible.  I wrote to the alderman a most
pacific epistle, regretting that my departure from Cork deprived me of
making reparation before, and expressing a most anxious hope that \x93he
caught no cold,\x94 and a fervent wish that \x93he would live many years to
grace and ornament the dignity of which his becoming costume was the
emblem.\x94  This I enclosed in a note to Curzon, telling him how the matter
occurred, and requesting that he would send it by his servant, together
with the scarlet vestment which he would find in my dressing-room.
Having folded and sealed this despatch, I turned to give Lord Callonby an
account of the business, and showed him Beamish\x92s note, at which he was
greatly amused: and, indeed, it furnished food for mirth for the whole
party during the evening.  The next morning I set out with Lord Callonby
on the long-threatened canvassing expedition--with the details of which I
need not burden my \x93Confessions.\x94  Suffice it to say, that when Lord
Kilkee was advocating Toryism in the west, I, his accredited ambassador,
was devoting to the infernal gods the prelacy, the peerage, and the
pension list--a mode of canvass well worthy of imitation in these
troublesome times; for, not to speak of the great prospect of success
from having friends on both sides of the question, the principal can
always divest himself of any unpleasant consequences as regards
inconsistency, by throing the blame on this friend, \x93who went too far,\x94
 as the appropriate phrase is.

Nothing could be more successful than our mission.  Lord Callonby was
delighted beyond bounds with the prospect, and so completely carried away
by high spirits, and so perfectly assured that much of it was owing to my
exertions, that on the second morning of our tour--for we proceeded
through the county for three days--he came laughing into my
dressing-room, with a newspaper in his hand.

\x93Here, Lorrequer,\x94 said he, \x93here\x92s news for you.  You certainly must
read this,\x94 and he handed me a copy of the \x93Clare Herald,\x94 with an
account of our meeting the evening before.

After glancing my eye rapidly over the routine usual in such cases
--Humph, ha--nearly two hundred people--most respectable farmers--room
appropriately decorated--\x93Callonby Arms\x94--\x93after the usual loyal toasts,
the chairman rose\x94--Well, no matter.  Ah! here it is: \x93Mr. Lorrequer here
addressed the meeting with a flow of eloquence it has rarely, if ever,
been our privilege to hear equalled.  He began by\x94--humph--

\x93Ah,\x94 said his lordship, impatiently, \x93you will never find it out--look
here--\x91Mr. Lorrequer, whom we have mentioned as having made the highly
exciting speech, to be found in our first page, is, we understand, the
son of Sir Guy Lorrequer, of Elton, in Shropshire--one of the wealthiest
baronets in England.  If rumour speak truly, there is a very near
prospect of an alliance between this talented and promising young
gentleman, and the beautiful and accomplished daughter of a certain
noble earl, with whom he has been for some time domesticated.\x94

\x93Eh, what think you?  Son of Sir Guy Lorrequer.  I always thought my old
friend a bachelor, but you see the \x91Clare Herald\x92 knows better.  Not to
speak of the last piece of intelligence, it is very good, is it not?\x94

\x93Capital, indeed,\x94 said I, trying to laugh, and at the same time blushing
confoundedly, and looking as ridiculously as need be.

It now struck me forcibly that there was something extremely odd in his
lordship\x92s mention of this paragraph, particularly when coupled with his
and Lady Callonby\x92s manner to me for the last two months.  They knew
enough of my family, evidently, to be aware of my station and prospects
--or rather my want of both--and yet, in the face of this, they not only
encouraged me to prolong a most delightful visit, but by a thousand daily
and dangerous opportunities, absolutely threw me in the way of one of the
loveliest of her sex, seemingly without fear on their parts. \x93\x91Eh bien,\x92\x94
 thought I, with my old philosophy, \x93Time, that \x91pregnant old gentleman,\x92
will disclose all, and so \x91laisse, aller.\x92\x94

My reveries on my good and evil fortune were suddenly interrupted by a
letter which reached me that evening, having been forwarded from Callonby
by a special messenger.  \x93What!  Another epistle from Curzon,\x94 said I, as
my eye caught the address, and wondering not a little what pressing
emergency had called forth the words on the cover--\x93to be forwarded with
haste.\x94  I eagerly broke the seal and read the following:

\x93My Dear Harry,--I received yours on the 11th, and immediately despatched
your note and the raiment to Mr. Beamish.  He was from home at the time,
but at eight o\x92clock I was sent for from the mess to see two gentlemen on
most pressing business.  I hurried to my quarters, and there found the
aforesaid Mr. B. accompanied by a friend, whom he introduced as Dr. De
Courcy Finucane, of the North Cork Militia--as warlike looking a
gentleman, of his inches, some five feet three, as you would wish to see.
The moment I appeared, both rose, and commenced a narrative, for such I
judge it to be, but so energetically and so completely together, that I
could only bow politely, and at last request that one, or the other,
would inform me of the object of their visit.  Here began the tug of war,
the Doctor saying, \x91Arrah, now Giles\x92--Mr. Beamish interrupting by
\x91Whisht, I tell ye--now, can\x92t you let me!  Ye see, Mr. Curzoin\x92--for so
they both agreed to designate me.  At last, completely worn out, I said,
\x91Perhaps you have not received my friend\x92s note?\x92  At this Mr. Beamish
reddened to the eyes, and with the greatest volubility poured forth a
flood of indignant eloquence, that I thought it necessary to check; but
in this I failed, for after informing me pretty clearly, that he knew
nothing of your story of the alderman, or his cloak, added, that he
firmly believed your pretended reparation was only a renewed insult, and
that--but in a word, he used such language, that I was compelled to take
him short; and the finale is, that I agreed you should meet him, though
still ignorant of what he calls the \x91original offence.\x92--But heaven
knows, his conduct here last night demands a reprimand, and I hope you
may give it; and if you shoot him, we may worm out the secret from his
executors.  Nothing could exceed the politeness of the parties on my
consenting to this arrangement.  Dr. Finucane proposed Carrigaholt, as
the rendezvous, about 12 miles, I believe, from Kilrush, and Tuesday
evening at six as the time, which will be the very earliest moment we can
arrive there.  So, pray be up to time, and believe me yours, C. Curzon,
Saturday Evening.\x94

It was late on Monday evening when this letter reached me, and there was
no time to be lost, as I was then about 40 Irish miles from the place
mentioned by Curzon; so after briefly acquainting Lord Callonby that I
was called off by duty, I hurried to my room to pack my clothes, and
again read over this extraordinary epistle.

I confess it did appear something droll, how completely Curzon seemed to
imbibe the passion for fighting from these \x93blood-thirsty Irishmen.\x94
 For by his own showing he was utterly ignorant of my ever having offended
this Mr. Beamish, of whom I recollected nothing whatever.  Yet when the
gentleman waxes wrothy, rather than inconvenience him, or perhaps anxious
to get back to the mess, he coolly says, \x93Oh, my friend shall meet you,\x94
 and then his pleasant jest, \x93find out the cause of quarrel from his
executors!\x94

Truly, thought I, there is no equanimity like his who acts as your second
in a duel.  The gentlemanlike urbanity with which he waits on the
opposite friend--the conciliating tone with which he proffers implacable
enmity--the killing kindness with which he refuses all accommodation--the
Talleyrand air of his short notes, dated from the \x93Travellers,\x94 or
\x93Brookes,\x94 with the words 3 o\x92clock or 5 o\x92clock on the cover, all
indicative of the friendly precipitancy of the negociation.  Then, when
all is settled, the social style with which he asks you to take a
\x93cutlet\x94 with him at the \x93Clarendon,\x94 not to go home--are only to be
equalled by the admirable tact on the ground--the studiously elegant
salute to the adverse party, half a la Napoleon, and half Beau Brummell
--the politely offered snuff-box--the coquetting raillery about 10 paces
or 12--are certainly the beau ideal of the stoicism which preludes
sending your friend out of the world like a gentleman.

How very often is the face of external nature at variance with the
thoughts and actions--\x93the sayings and doings\x94 we may be most intent upon
at the moment.  How many a gay and brilliant bridal party has wended its
way to St. George\x92s, Hanover-square, amid a downpour of rain, one would
suppose sufficient to quench the torch of Hymen, though it burned as
brightly as Capt. Drummond\x92s oxygen light; and on the other hand, how
frequently are the bluest azure of heaven and the most balmy airs shed
upon the heart bursting with affliction, or the head bowed with grief;
and without any desire to impugn, as a much high authority has done, the
moral character of the moon, how many a scene of blood and rapine has its
mild radiance illumined.  Such reflections as these came thronging to my
mind, as on the afternoon of Tuesday I neared the little village of our
rendezvous.

The scene which in all its peaceful beauty lay before me, was truly a
bitter contrast to the occasion that led me thither.  I stood upon a
little peninsula which separates the Shannon from the wide Atlantic.  On
one side the placed river flowed on its course, between fields of waving
corn, or rich pasturage--the beautiful island of Scattery, with its
picturesque ruins reflected in the unrippled tide--the cheerful voices of
the reapers, and the merry laugh of the children were mingled with the
seaman\x92s cry of the sailors, who were \x93heaving short\x94 on their anchor,
to take the evening tide.  The village, which consisted of merely a few
small cabins, was still from its situation a pleasing object in the
picture, and the blue smoke that rose in slender columns from the humble
dwellings, took from the scene its character of loneliness, and suggested
feelings of home and homely enjoyments, which human habitations, however,
lowly, never fail to do.

\x93At any other time,\x94 thought I, \x93and how I could have enjoyed all this,
but now--and, ha, I find it is already past five o\x92clock, and if I am
rightly informed I am still above a mile from \x91Carrigaholt,\x92 where we
were to meet.\x94

I had dismissed my conveyance when nearing the village, to avoid
observation, and now took a foot-path over the hills.  Before I had
proceeded half a mile, the scene changed completely.  I found myself
traversing a small glen, grown over with a low oak scrub, and not
presenting, on any side, the slightest trace of habitation.  I saw that
the ground had been selected by an adept.  The glen, which grew narrow as
I advanced, suddenly disclosed to my view a glimpse of the Atlantic, upon
which the declining sun was pouring a flood of purple glory.  I had
scarcely turned from the contemplation of this beautiful object, when a
long low whistle attracted my attention.  I looked in the direction from
whence it proceeded, and discovered at some distance from me three
figures standing beside the ruin of an old Abbey, which I now for the
first time perceived.

If I had entertained any doubt as to who they were, it had been speedily
resolved, for I now saw one of the party waving his hat to me, whom, I
soon recognized to be Curzon; he came forward to meet me, and, in the few
hundred yards that intervened before our reaching the others, told me as
much as he knew of the opposite party; which, after all, was but little.
Mr. Beamish, my adversary, he described as a morose, fire-eating
southern, that evidently longed for an \x93affair\x94 with a military man, then
considered a circumstance of some eclat in the south; his second, the
doctor, on the contrary, was by far \x93the best of the cut-throats,\x94 a most
amusing little personage, full of his own importance, and profuse in his
legends of his own doings in love and war, and evidently disposed to take
the pleasing side of every occurrence in life; they both agreed in but
one point--a firm and fixed resolve to give no explanation of the quarrel
with me.  \x93So then,\x94 said I, as Curzon hurried over the preceding
account, \x93you absolutely know nothing whatever of the reason for which I
am about to give this man a meeting.\x94

\x93No more than you,\x94 said Curzon, with imperturbable gravity; \x93but one
thing I am certain of--had I not at once promised him such, he would have
posted you in Limerick the next morning; and as you know our mess rule in
the 4_th, I thought it best--\x94

\x93Oh, certainly, quite right; but now are you quite certain I am the man
who offended him?  For I solemnly assure you, I have not the most remote
recollection of having ever heard of him.\x94

\x93That point,\x94 said Curzon, \x93there can be no doubt of, for he not only
designated you as Mr. Harry Lorrequer, but the gentleman that made all
Cork laugh so heartily, by his representation of Othello.\x94

\x93Stop!\x94 said I, \x93say not a word more; I\x92m his man.\x94

By this time we had reached the ruins, and turning a corner came in full
contact with the enemy; they had been resting themselves on a tombstone
as we approached.

\x93Allow me,\x94 said Curzon, stepping a little in advance of me; \x93allow me to
introduce my friend Mr. Lorrequer, Dr. Finicane,--Dr. Finicane, Mr.
Lorrequer.\x94

\x93Finucane, if quite agreeable to you; Finucane,\x94 said the little
gentleman, as he lifted his hat straight off his head, and replaced it
most accurately, by way of salute.  \x93Mr. Lorrequer, it is with sincere
pleasure I make your acquaintance.\x94  Here Mr. Beamish bowed stiffly, in
return to my salutation, and at the instant a kind of vague sensation
crossed my mind, that those red whiskers, and that fiery face were not
seen for the first time; but the thumbscrews of the holy office would
have been powerless to refresh my memory as to when.

\x93Captain,\x94 said the doctor, \x93may I request the favour of your company
this way, one minute;\x94 they both walked aside; the only words which
reached me as I moved off, to permit their conference, being an assurance
on the part of the doctor, \x93that it was a sweet spot he picked out, for,
by having them placed north and south, neither need have a patch of sky
behind him.\x94  Very few minutes sufficed for preliminaries, and they both
advanced, smirking and smiling, as if they had just arranged a new plan
for the amelioration of the poor, or the benefit of the manufacturing
classes, instead of making preparations for sending a gentleman out of
the world.

\x93Then if I understand you, captain,\x94 said the doctor, \x93you step the
distance, and I give the word.\x94

\x93Exactly,\x94 said Curzon.

After a joking allusion to my friend\x92s length of limb, at which we all
laughed heartily, we were placed, Curzon and the doctor standing and
breaking the line between us; the pistols were then put into our hands,
the doctor saying--\x93Now, gentlemen, I\x92ll just retire six paces, and turn
round, which will be quite time enough to prepare, and at the word
\x91fire,\x92 ye\x92ll blaze away; mind now.\x94  With a knowing wink, the doctor
delivered this direction, and immediately moved off; the word \x93fire\x94
 followed, and both pistols went off together.  My hat was struck near the
top, and, as the smoke cleared away, I perceived that my ball had taken
effect upon my adversary; he was wounded a little below the knee and
appeared to steady himself with the greatest difficulty.  \x93You friend is
hit,\x94 said Curzon, to the doctor, who now came forward with another
pistol.  \x93You friend is hit.\x94

\x93So I perceive,\x94 said he, placing his finger on the spot; \x93but it is no
harm in life; so we proceed, if you please.\x94

\x93You don\x92t mean to demand another shot?\x94 said Curzon.

\x93Faith, do I,\x94 said the doctor coolly.

\x93Then,\x94 said Curzon, \x93I must tell you most unequivocally, I refuse, and
shall now withdraw my friend; and had it not been for a regulation
peculiar to our regiment, but never intended to include cases of this
nature, we had not been here now; for up to this hour my principal and
myself are in utter ignorance of any cause of offence ever having been
offered by him to Mr. Beamish.\x94

\x93Giles, do you hear this?\x94 said the doctor.

But Giles did not hear it, for the rapid loss of blood from his wound had
so weakened him, that he had fainted, and now lay peaceably on the grass.
Etiquette was now at an end, and we all ran forward to assist the wounded
man; for some minutes he lay apparently quite senseless, and when he at
last rallied and looked wildly about him, it appeared to be with
difficulty that he recalled any recollection of the place, and the people
around him; for a few seconds he fixed his eyes steadily upon the doctor,
and with a lip pale and bloodless, and a voice quivering from weakness,
said,

\x93Fin!  Didn\x92t I tell ye, that pistol always threw high--oh!\x94 and this he
said with a sigh that nearly overpowered him, \x93Oh, Fin, if you had only
given me the saw-handled one, that I AM USED TO; but it is no good
talking now.\x94

In my inmost heart I was grateful to the little doctor for his mistake,
for I plainly perceived what \x93the saw-handled one he was used to\x94 might
have done for me, and could not help muttering to myself with good Sir
Andrew--\x93If I had known he was so cunning of fence, I\x92d have seen him
damned before that I fought with him.\x94

Our first duty was now to remove the wounded man to the high road, about
which both he himself and his second seemed disposed to make some
difficulty; they spoke together for a few moments in a low tone of voice,
and then the doctor addressed us--\x93We feel, gentlemen, this is not a
time for any concealment; but the truth is, we have need of great
circumspection here, for I must inform you, we are both of us bound
over in heavy recognizances to keep the peace.\x94

\x93Bound over to keep the peace!\x94 said Curzon and myself together.

\x93Nothing less; and although there is nobody hereabout would tell, yet if
the affair got into the papers by any means, why there are some people in
Cork would like to press my friend there, for he is a very neat shot when
he has the saw-handle,\x94 and here the doctor winked.

We had little time permitted us, to think upon the oddity of meeting a
man in such circumstances, for we were now obliged to contribute our aid
in conveying him to the road, where some means might be procured for his
transfer to Kilrush, or some other town in the neighbourhood, for he was
by this time totally unable to walk.

After half an hour\x92s toiling, we at last did reach the highway, by which
time I had ample opportunity, short as the space was, to see something of
the character of our two opponents.  It appeared the doctor exercised the
most absolute control over his large friend, dictating and commanding in
a tone which the other never ventured to resist; for a moment or two Mr.
Beamish expressed a great desire to be conveyed by night to Kilrush,
where he might find means to cross the Shannon into Kerry; this, however,
the doctor opposed strenuously, from the risque of publicity; and finally
settled that we should all go in a body to his friend, Father Malachi
Brennan\x92s house, only two miles off, where the sick man would have the
most tender care, and what the doctor considered equally indispensable,
we ourselves a most excellent supper, and a hearty welcome.

\x93You know Father Malachi, of course, Mr. Lorrequer?\x94

\x93I am ashamed to say I do not.\x94

\x93Not know Malachi Brennan and live in Clare!  Well, well, that is
strange; sure he is the priest of this country for twelve miles in every
direction of you, and a better man, and a pleasanter, there does not live
in the diocese; though I\x92m his cousin that says it.\x94

After professing all the possible pleasure it would afford my friend and
myself to make the acquaintance of Father Malachi, we proceeded to place
Mr. Beamish in a car that was passing at the time, and started for the
residence of the good priest.  The whole of the way thither I was
occupied but by one thought, a burning anxiety to know the cause of our
quarrel, and I longed for the moment when I might get the doctor apart
from his friend, to make the inquiry.

\x93There--look down to your left, where you see the lights shining so
brightly, that is Father Malachi\x92s house; as sure as my name is
De Courcy Finucane, there\x92s fun going on there this night.\x94

\x93Why, there certainly does seem a great illumination in the valley
there,\x94 said I.

\x93May I never,\x94 said the doctor, \x93if it isn\x92t a station--\x94

\x93A station!--pray may I ask--\x94

\x93You need not ask a word on the subject; for, if I am a true prophet,
you\x92ll know what it means before morning.\x94

A little more chatting together, brought us to a narrow road, flanked on
either side by high hedges of hawthorn, and, in a few minutes more, we
stood before the priest\x92s residence, a long, white-washed, thatched
house, having great appearance of comfort and convenience.  Arrived here,
the doctor seemed at once to take on him the arrangement of the whole
party; for, after raising the latch and entering the house, he returned
to us in a few minutes, and said,

\x93Wait a while now; we\x92ll not go in to Father Malachi, \x91till we\x92ve put
Giles to bed.\x94

We, accordingly, lifted him from off the car, and assisted him into the
house, and following Finucane down a narrow passage, at last reached a
most comfortable little chamber, with a neat bed; here we placed him,
while the doctor gave some directions to a bare-headed, red-legged
hussey, without shoes or stockings, and himself proceeded to examine the
wound, which was a more serious one than it at first appeared.

After half an hour thus occupied, during which time, roars of merriment
and hearty peals of laughter burst upon us every time the door opened,
from a distant part of the house, where his reverence was entertaining
his friends, and which, as often as they were heard by the doctor seemed
to produce in him sensations not unlike those that afflicted the \x93wedding
guest\x94 in the \x93Ancient Mariner,\x94 when he heard the \x93loud bassoon,\x94 and as
certainly imparted an equally longing desire to be a partaker in the
mirth.  We arranged every thing satisfactorily for Mr. Beamish\x92s comfort,
and with a large basin of vinegar and water, to keep his knee cool, and a
strong tumbler of hot punch, to keep his heart warm--homeopathic medicine
is not half so new as Dr. Hahnneman would make us believe--we left Mr.
Beamish to his own meditations, and doubtless regrets that he did not get
\x93the saw-handled one, he was used to,\x94 while we proceeded to make our
bows to Father Malachi Brennan.

But, as I have no intention to treat the good priest with ingratitude, I
shall not present him to my readers at the tail of a chapter.



CHAPTER VI.

THE PRIEST\x92S SUPPER--FATHER MALACHI AND THE COADJUTOR
--MAJOR JONES AND THE ABBE

At the conclusion of our last chapter we left our quondam antagonist,
Mr. Beamish, stretched at full length upon a bed practising homeopathy
by administering hot punch to his fever, while we followed our chaperon,
Doctor Finucane, into the presence of the Reverend Father Brennan.

The company into which we now, without any ceremony on our parts,
introduced ourselves, consisted of from five and twenty to thirty
persons, seated around a large oak table, plentifully provided with
materials for drinking, and cups, goblets, and glasses of every shape and
form.  The moment we entered, the doctor stepped forward, and, touching
Father Malachi on the shoulder,--for so I rightly guessed him to be,
--presented himself to his relative, by whom he was welcomed with every
demonstration of joy.  While their recognitions were exchanged, and while
the doctor explained the reasons of our visit, I was enabled, undisturbed
and unnoticed, to take a brief survey of the party.

Father Malachi Brennan, P.P. of Carrigaholt, was what I had often
pictured to myself as the beau ideal of his caste; his figure was short,
fleshy, and enormously muscular, and displayed proportions which wanted
but height to constitute a perfect Hercules; his legs so thick in the
calf, so taper in the ancle, looked like nothing I know, except perhaps,
the metal balustrades of Carlisle--bridge; his face was large and rosy,
and the general expression, a mixture of unbounded good humour and
inexhaustible drollery, to which the restless activity of his black and
arched eye--brows greatly contributed; and his mouth, were it not for a
character of sensuality and voluptuousness about the nether lip, had been
actually handsome; his head was bald, except a narrow circle close above
the ears, which was marked by a ring of curly dark hair, sadly
insufficient however, to conceal a development behind, that, if there be
truth in phrenology, bodes but little happiness to the disciples of Miss
Martineau.

Add to these external signs a voice rich, fluent, and racy, with the
mellow \x93doric\x94 of his country, and you have some faint resemblance of one
\x93every inch a priest.\x94  The very antipodes to the \x91bonhomie\x92 of this
figure, confronted him as croupier at the foot of the table.  This,
as I afterwards learned, was no less a person than Mister Donovan, the
coadjutor or \x93curate;\x94 he was a tall, spare, ungainly looking man of
about five and thirty, with a pale, ascetic countenance, the only
readable expression of which vibrated between low suspicion and intense
vulgarity: over his low, projecting forehead hung down a mass of straight
red hair; indeed--for nature is not a politician--it almost approached an
orange hue.  This was cut close to the head all around, and displayed in
their full proportions a pair of enormous ears, which stood out in
\x93relief,\x94 like turrets from a watch-tower, and with pretty much the same
object; his skin was of that peculiar colour and texture, to which, not
all \x93the water in great Neptune\x92s ocean\x94 could impart a look of
cleanliness, while his very voice, hard, harsh, and inflexible, was
unprepossessing and unpleasant.  And yet, strange as it may seem, he,
too, was a correct type of his order; the only difference being, that
Father Malachi was an older coinage, with the impress of Donay or St.
Omers, whereas Mister Donovan was the shining metal, fresh stamped from
the mint of Maynooth.

While thus occupied in my surveillance of the scene before me, I was
roused by the priest saying--

\x93Ah, Fin, my darling, you needn\x92t deny it; you\x92re at the old game as sure
as my name is Malachi, and ye\x92ll never be easy nor quiet till ye\x92re sent
beyond the sea, or maybe have a record of your virtues on half a ton of
marble in the church-yard, yonder.\x94

\x93Upon my honour, upon the sacred honour of a De Courcy--.\x94

\x93Well, well, never mind it now; ye see ye\x92re just keeping your friends
cooling themselves there in the corner--introduce me at once.\x94

\x93Mr. Lorrequer, I\x92m sure--.\x94

\x93My name is Curzon,\x94 said the adjutant, bowing.

\x93A mighty pretty name, though a little profane; well, Mr. Curse-on,\x94 for
so he pronounced it, \x93ye\x92re as welcome as the flowers in May; and it\x92s
mighty proud I am to see ye here.

\x93Mr. Lorrequer, allow me to shake your hand--I\x92ve heard of ye before.\x94

There seemed nothing very strange in that; for go where I would through
this country, I seemed as generally known as ever was Brummell in
Bond-street.

\x93Fin tells me,\x94 continued Father Malachi, \x93that ye\x92d rather not be known
down here, in regard of a reason,\x94 and here he winked.  \x93Make yourselves
quite easy; the king\x92s writ was never but once in these parts; and the
\x91original and true copy\x92 went back to Limerick in the stomach of the
server; they made him eat it, Mr. Lorrequer; but it\x92s as well to be
cautious, for there are a good number here.  A little dinner, a little
quarterly dinner we have among us, Mr. Curseon, to be social together,
and raise a \x91thrifle\x92 for the Irish college at Rome, where we have a
probationer or two, ourselves.

\x93As good as a station, and more drink,\x94 whispered Fin into my ear.  \x93And
now,\x94 continued the priest, \x93ye must just permit me to re-christen ye
both, and the contribution will not be the less for what I\x92m going to do;
and I\x92m certain you\x92ll not be worse for the change Mr. Curseon--though
\x91tis only for a few hours, ye\x92ll have a dacent name.\x94

As I could see no possible objection to this proposal, nor did Curzon
either, our only desire being to maintain the secrecy necessary for our
antagonist\x92s safety, we at once assented; when Father Malachi took me by
the hand, but with such a total change in his whole air and deportment
that I was completely puzzled by it; he led me forward to the company
with a good deal of the ceremonious reverence I have often admired in Sir
Charles Vernon, when conducting some full--blown dowager through the
mazes of a castle minuet.  The desire to laugh outright was almost
irresistible, as the Rev. Father stood at arm\x92s length from me, still
holding my hand, and bowing to the company pretty much in the style of a
manager introducing a blushing debutante to an audience.  A moment more,
and I must have inevitably given way to a burst of laughter, when what
was my horror to hear the priest present me to the company as their
\x93excellent, worthy, generous, and patriotic young landlord, Lord Kilkee.
Cheer every mother\x92s son of ye; cheer I say;\x94 and certainly precept was
never more strenuously backed by example, for he huzzaed till I thought
he would burst a blood-vessel; may I add, I almost wished it, such was
the insufferable annoyance, the chagrin, this announcement gave me; and
I waited with eager impatience for the din and clamour to subside, to
disclaim every syllable of the priest\x92s announcement, and take the
consequences of my baptismal epithet, cost what it might.  To this I was
impelled by many and important reasons.  Situated as I was with respect
to the Callonby family, my assumption of their name at such a moment
might get abroad, and the consequences to me, be inevitable ruin; and
independent of my natural repugnance to such sailing under false colours,
I saw Curzon laughing almost to suffocation at my wretched predicament,
and (so strong within me was the dread of ridicule) I thought, \x93what a
pretty narrative he is concocting for the mess this minute.\x94  I rose
to reply; and whether Father Malachi, with his intuitive quickness,
guessed my purpose or not, I cannot say, but he certainly resolved to
out-maneuver me, and he succeeded: while with one hand he motioned to the
party to keep silence, with the other he took hold of Curzon, but with no
peculiar or very measured respect, and introduced him as Mr. MacNeesh,
the new Scotch steward and improver--a character at that time whose
popularity might compete with a tithe proctor or an exciseman.  So
completely did this tactique turn the tables upon the poor adjutant, who
the moment before was exulting over me, that I utterly forgot my own
woes, and sat down convulsed with mirth at his situation--an emotion
certainly not lessened as I saw Curzon passed from one to the other at
table, \x93like a pauper to his parish,\x94 till he found an asylum at the very
foot, in juxta with the engaging Mister Donovan.  A propinquity, if I
might judge from their countenances, uncoveted by either party.

While this was performing, Doctor Finucane was making his recognitions
with several of the company, to whom he had been long known during his
visits to the neighbourhood.  I now resumed my place on the right of the
Father, abandoning for the present all intention of disclaiming my rank,
and the campaign was opened.  The priest now exerted himself to the
utmost to recall conversation with the original channels, and if possible
to draw off attention from me, which he still feared, might, perhaps,
elicit some unlucky announcement on my part.  Failing in his endeavours
to bring matters to their former footing, he turned the whole brunt of
his attentions to the worthy doctor, who sat on his left.

\x93How goes on the law,\x94 said he, \x93Fin?  Any new proofs, as they call them,
forthcoming?\x94

What Fin replied, I could not hear, but the allusion to the \x93suit\x94 was
explained by Father Malachi informing us that the only impediment between
his cousin and the title of Kinsale lay in the unfortunate fact, that his
grandmother, \x93rest her sowl,\x94 was not a man.

Doctor Finucane winced a little under the manner in which this was
spoken: but returned the fire by asking if the bishop was down lately in
that quarter?  The evasive way in which \x93the Father\x94 replied having
stimulated my curiosity as to the reason, little entreaty was necessary
to persuade the doctor to relate the following anecdote, which was not
relished the less by his superior, that it told somewhat heavily on Mr.
Donovan.

\x93It is about four years ago,\x94 said the doctor, \x93since the Bishop, Dr.
Plunkett, took it into his head that he\x92d make a general inspection, \x91a
reconnoisance,\x94 as we\x92d call it, Mr. Lor--that is, my lord!  Through the
whole diocese, and leave no part far nor near without poking his nose in
it and seeing how matters were doing.  He heard very queer stories about
his reverence here, and so down he came one morning in the month of July,
riding upon an old grey hack, looking just for all the world like any
other elderly gentleman in very rusty black.  When he got near the
village he picked up a little boy to show him the short cut across the
fields to the house here; and as his lordship was a \x91sharp man and a
shrewd,\x92 he kept his eye on every thing as he went along, remarking this,
and noting down that.

\x93\x91Are ye regular in yer duties, my son?\x92 said he to the gossoon.

\x93\x91I never miss a Sunday,\x92 said the gossoon; \x91for it\x92s always walking his
reverence\x92s horse I am the whole time av prayers.\x92

\x93His lordship said no more for a little while, when he muttered between
his teeth, \x91Ah, it\x92s just slander--nothing but slander and lying
tongues.\x92  This soliloquy was caused by his remarking that on every gate
he passed, or from every cabin, two or three urchins would come out half
naked, but all with the finest heads of red hair he ever saw in his life.

\x93\x91How is it, my son,\x92 said he, at length; \x91they tell very strange stories
about Father Malachi, and I see so many of these children with red hair.
Eh--now Father Malachi\x92s a dark man.\x92

\x93\x91True for ye,\x92 said the boy; \x91true for ye, Father Malachi\x92s dark; but
the coadjutor!--the coadjutor\x92s as red as a fox.\x92\x94

When the laugh this story caused had a little subsided, Father Malachi
called out, \x93Mickey Oulahan! Mickey, I say, hand his lordship over \x91the
groceries\x92\x94--thus he designated a square decanter, containing about two
quarts of whiskey, and a bowl heaped high with sugar--\x93a dacent boy is
Mickey, my lord, and I\x92m happy to be the means of making him known to
you.\x94  I bowed with condescension, while Mr. Oulahan\x92s eyes sparkled like
diamonds at the recognition.

\x93He has only two years of the lease to run, and a \x91long charge,\x92
(anglice, a large family,) continued the priest.

\x93I\x92ll not forget him, you may depend upon it,\x94 said I.

\x93Do you hear that,\x94 said Father Malachi, casting a glance of triumph
round the table, while a general buzz of commendation on priest and
patron went round, with many such phrases as, \x93Och thin, it\x92s his
riv\x92rance can do it,\x94 \x93na bocklish,\x94 \x93and why not,\x94 &c. &c.  As for me,
I have already \x93confessed\x94 to my crying sin, a fatal, irresistible
inclination to follow the humour of the moment wherever it led me; and
now I found myself as active a partizan in quizzing Mickey Oulahan, as
though I was not myself a party included in the jest.  I was thus fairly
launched into my inveterate habit, and nothing could arrest my progress.

One by one the different individuals round the table were presented to
me, and made known their various wants, with an implicit confidence in my
power of relieving them, which I with equal readiness ministered to.  I
lowered the rent of every man at table.  I made a general jail delivery,
an act of grace, (I blush to say,) which seemed to be peculiarly
interesting to the present company.  I abolished all arrears--made a new
line of road through an impassable bog, and over an inaccessible
mountain--and conducted water to a mill, which (I learned in the morning)
was always worked by wind.  The decanter had scarcely completed its third
circuit of the board, when I bid fair to be most popular specimen of the
peerage that ever visited the \x93far west.\x94  In the midst of my career of
universal benevolence, I was interrupted by Father Malachi, whom I found
on his legs, pronouncing a glowing eulogium on his cousin\x92s late
regiment, the famous North Cork.

\x93That was the corps!\x94 said he.  \x93Bid them do a thing, and they\x92d never
leave off; and so, when they got orders to retire from Wexford, it\x92s
little they cared for the comforts of baggage, like many another
regiment, for they threw away every thing but their canteens, and never
stopped till they ran to Ross, fifteen miles farther than the enemy
followed them.  And when they were all in bed the same night, fatigued
and tired with their exertions, as ye may suppose, a drummer\x92s boy called
out in his sleep--\x91here they are--they\x92re coming\x92--they all jumped up and
set off in their shirts, and got two miles out of town before they
discovered it was a false alarm.\x94

Peal after peal of laughter followed the priest\x92s encomium on the
doctor\x92s regiment; and, indeed, he himself joined most heartily in the
mirth, as he might well afford to do, seeing that a braver or better
corps than the North Cork, Ireland did not possess.

\x93Well,\x94 said Fin, \x93it\x92s easy to see ye never can forget what they did at
Maynooth.\x94

Father Malachi disclaimed all personal feeling on the subject; and I was
at last gratified by the following narrative, which I regret deeply I am
not enabled to give in the doctor\x92s own verbiage; but writing as I do
from memory, (in most instances,) I can only convey the substance:

It was towards the latter end of the year \x9198--the year of the troubles
--that the North Cork was ordered, \x93for their sins\x94 I believe, to march
from their snug quarters in Fermoy, and take up a position in the town of
Maynooth--a very considerable reverse of fortune to a set of gentlemen
extremely addicted to dining out, and living at large upon a very
pleasant neighbourhood.  Fermoy abounded in gentry; Maynooth at that,
time had few, if any, excepting his Grace of Leinster, and he lived very
privately, and saw no company.  Maynooth was stupid and dull--there were
neither belles nor balls; Fermoy (to use the doctor\x92s well remembered
words) had \x93great feeding,\x94 and \x93very genteel young ladies, that carried
their handkerchiefs in bags, and danced with the officers.\x94

They had not been many weeks in their new quarters, when they began to
pine over their altered fortunes, and it was with a sense of delight,
which a few months before would have been incomprehensible to them, they
discovered, that one of their officers had a brother, a young priest in
the college: he introduced him to some of his confreres, and the natural
result followed.  A visiting acquaintance began between the regiment and
such of the members of the college as had liberty to leave the precincts:
who, as time ripened the acquaintance into intimacy, very naturally
preferred the cuisine of the North Cork to the meagre fare of \x93the
refectory.\x94  At last seldom a day went by, without one or two of their
reverences finding themselves guests at the mess.  The North Corkians
were of a most hospitable turn, and the fathers were determined the
virtue should not rust for want of being exercised; they would just drop
in to say a word to \x93Captain O\x92Flaherty about leave to shoot in the
demesne,\x94 as Carton was styled; or, they had a \x93frank from the Duke for
the Colonel,\x94 or some other equally pressing reason; and they would
contrive to be caught in the middle of a very droll story just as the
\x93roast beef\x94 was playing.  Very little entreaty then sufficed--a short
apology for the \x93dereglements\x94 of dress, and a few minutes more found
them seated at table without further ceremony on either side.

Among the favourite guests from the college, two were peculiarly held in
estimation--\x93the Professor of the Humanities,\x94 Father Luke Mooney; and the
Abbe D\x92Array, \x93the Lecturer on Moral Philosophy, and Belles Lettres;\x94 and
certain it is, pleasanter fellows, or more gifted with the \x93convivial
bump,\x94 there never existed.  He of the Humanities was a droll dog--a
member of the Curran club, the \x93monks of the screw,\x94 told an excellent
story, and sang the \x93Cruiskeen Lawn\x94 better than did any before or since
him;--the moral philosopher, though of a different genre, was also a most
agreeable companion, an Irishman transplanted in his youth to St. Omers,
and who had grafted upon his native humour a considerable share of French
smartness and repartee--such were the two, who ruled supreme in all the
festive arrangements of this jovial regiment, and were at last as regular
at table, as the adjutant and the paymaster, and so might they have
continued, had not prosperity, that in its blighting influence upon the
heart, spares neither priests nor laymen, and is equally severe upon mice
(see Aesop\x92s fable) and moral philosophers, actually deprived them, for
the \x93nonce\x94 of reason, and tempted them to their ruin.  You naturally
ask, what did they do?  Did they venture upon allusions to the retreat
upon Ross?  Nothing of the kind.  Did they, in that vanity which wine
inspires, refer by word, act, or inuendo, to the well-known order of
their Colonel when reviewing his regiment in \x93the Phoenix,\x94 to \x93advance
two steps backwards, and dress by the gutter.\x94  Far be it from them:
though indeed either of these had been esteemed light in the balance
compared with their real crime.  \x93Then, what was their failing--come,
tell it, and burn ye?\x94  They actually, \x93horresco referens,\x94 quizzed the
Major coram the whole mess!--Now, Major John Jones had only lately
exchanged into the North Cork from the \x93Darry Ragement,\x94 as he called it.
He was a red--hot orangeman, a deputy--grand something, and vice-chairman
of the \x93\x91Prentice Boys\x94 beside.  He broke his leg when a school-boy, by
a fall incurred in tying an orange handkerchief around King William\x92s
August neck in College-green, on one 12th of July, and three several
times had closed the gates of Derry with his own loyal hands, on the
famed anniversary; in a word, he was one, that if his church had enjoined
penance as an expiation for sin, would have looked upon a trip to
Jerusalem on his bare knees, as a very light punishment for the crime on
his conscience, that he sat at table with two buck priests from Maynooth,
and carved for them, like the rest of the company!

Poor Major Jones, however, had no such solace, and the canker-worm eat
daily deeper and deeper into his pining heart.  During the three or four
weeks of their intimacy with his regiment, his martyrdom was awful.  His
figure wasted, and his colour became a deeper tinge of orange, and all
around averred that there would soon be a \x93move up\x94 in the corps, for the
major had evidently \x93got his notice to quit\x94 this world, and its pomps
and vanities.  He felt \x93that he was dying,\x94 to use Haines Bayley\x92s
beautiful and apposite words, and meditated an exchange, but that, from
circumstances, was out of the question.  At last, subdued by grief, and
probably his spirit having chafed itself smooth by such constant
attrition, he became, to all seeming, calmer; but it was only the calm of
a broken and weary heart.  Such was Major Jones at the time, when,
\x93suadente diabolo,\x94 it seemed meet to Fathers Mooney and D\x92Array to make
him the butt of their raillery.  At first, he could not believe it; the
thing was incredible--impossible; but when he looked around the table,
when he heard the roars of laughter, long, loud, and vociferous; when he
heard his name bandied from one to the other across the table, with some
vile jest tacked to it \x93like a tin kettle to a dog\x92s tail,\x94 he awoke to
the full measure of his misery--the cup was full.  Fate had done her
worst, and he might have exclaimed with Lear, \x93spit, fire--spout, rain,\x94
 there was nothing in store for him of further misfortune.

A drum-head court-martial--a hint \x93to sell out\x94--ay, a sentence of
\x93dismissed the service,\x94 had been mortal calamities, and, like a man, he
would have borne them; but that he, Major John Jones, D.G.S. C.P.B., &c.
&c, who had drank the \x93pious, glorious, and immortal,\x94 sitting astride of
\x93the great gun of Athlone,\x94 should come to this!  Alas, and alas!  He
retired that night to his chamber a \x93sadder if not a wiser man;\x94 he
dreamed that the \x93statue\x94 had given place to the unshapely figure of Leo
X., and that \x93Lundy now stood where Walker stood before.\x94  He humped from
his bed in a moment of enthusiasm, he vowed his revenge, and he kept his
vow.

That day the major was \x93acting field officer.\x94  The various patroles,
sentries, picquets, and out-posts, were all under his especial control;
and it was remarked that he took peculiar pains in selecting the men for
night duty, which, in the prevailing quietness and peace of that time,
seemed scarcely warrantable.

Evening drew near, and Major Jones, summoned by the \x93oft-heard beat,\x94
 wended his way to the mess.  The officers were dropping in, and true as
\x93the needle to the pole,\x94 came Father Mooney and the Abbe.  They were
welcomed with the usual warmth, and strange to say, by none more than the
major himself, whose hilarity knew no bounds.

How the evening passed, I shall not stop to relate: suffice it to say,
that a more brilliant feast of wit and jollification, not even the North
Cork ever enjoyed.  Father Luke\x92s drollest stories, his very quaintest
humour shone forth, and the Abbe sang a new \x93Chanson a Boire,\x94 that
Beranger might have envied.

\x93What are you about, my dear Father D\x92Array?\x94 said the Colonel; \x93you are
surely not rising yet; here\x92s a fresh cooper of port just come in; sit
down, I entreat.\x94

\x93I say it with grief, my dear colonel, we must away; the half-hour has
just chimed, and we must be within \x91the gates\x92 before twelve.  The truth
is, the superior has been making himself very troublesome about our
\x91carnal amusements\x92 as he calls our innocent mirth, and we must therefore
be upon our guard.\x94

\x93Well, if it must be so, we shall not risk losing your society
altogether, for an hour or so now; so, one bumper to our next meeting
--to-morrow, mind, and now, M. D\x92Abbe, au revoir.\x94

The worthy fathers finished their glasses, and taking a most affectionate
leave of their kind entertainers, sallied forth under the guidance of
Major Jones, who insisted upon accompanying them part of the way, as,
\x93from information he had received, the sentries were doubled in some
places, and the usual precautions against surprise all taken.\x94  Much as
this polite attention surprised the objects of it, his brother officers
wondered still more, and no sooner did they perceive the major and his
companions issue forth, than they set out in a body to watch where this
most novel and unexpected complaisance would terminate.

When the priests reached the door of the barrack-yard, they again turned
to utter their thanks to the major, and entreat him once more, \x93not to
come a step farther.  There now, major, we know the path well, so just
give us the pass, and don\x92t stay out in the night air.\x94

\x93Ah oui, Monsieur Jones,\x94 said the Abbe, \x93retournez, je vous prie.  We
are, I must say, chez nous.  Ces braves gens, les North Cork know us by
this time.\x94

The major smiled, while he still pressed his services to see them past
the picquets, but they were resolved and would not be denied.

\x93With the word for the night, we want nothing more,\x94 said Father Luke.

\x93Well, then,\x94 said the major, in the gravest tone, and he was naturally
grave, \x93you shall have your way, but remember to call out loud, for the
first sentry is a little deaf, and a very passionate, ill-tempered
fellow to boot.\x94

\x93Never fear,\x94 said Father Mooney, laughing; \x93I\x92ll go bail he\x92ll hear me.\x94

\x93Well--the word for the night is--\x91Bloody end to the Pope,\x92--don\x92t
forget, now, \x91Bloody end to the Pope,\x92\x94 and with these words he banged
the door between him and the unfortunate priests; and, as bolt was
fastened after bolt, they heard him laughing to himself like a fiend over
his vengeance.

\x93And big bad luck to ye, Major Jones, for the same, every day ye see a
paving stone,\x94 was the faint sub-audible ejaculation of Father Luke, when
he was recovered enough to speak.

\x93Sacristi! Que nous sommes attrappes,\x94 said the Abbe, scarcely able to
avoid laughing at the situation in which they were placed.

\x93Well, there\x92s the quarter chiming now; we\x92ve no time to lose--Major
Jones!  Major, darling! Don\x92t now, ah, don\x92t! sure ye know we\x92ll be
ruined entirely--there now, just change it, like a dacent fellow--the
devil\x92s luck to him, he\x92s gone.  Well, we can\x92t stay here in the rain all
night, and be expelled in the morning afterwards--so come along.\x94

They jogged on for a few minutes in silence, till they came to that part
of the \x93Duke\x92s\x94 demesne wall, where the first sentry was stationed.  By
this time the officers, headed by the major, had quietly slipped out of
the gate, and were following their steps at a convenient distance.

The fathers had stopped to consult together, what they should do in this
trying emergency--when their whisper being overheard, the sentinel called
out gruffly, in the genuine dialect of his country, \x93who goes that?\x94

\x93Father Luke Mooney, and the Abbe D\x92Array,\x94 said the former, in his most
bland and insinuating tone of voice, a quality he most eminently
possessed.

\x93Stand and give the countersign.\x94

\x93We are coming from the mess, and going home to the college,\x94 said Father
Mooney, evading the question, and gradually advancing as he spoke.

\x93Stand, or I\x92ll shot ye,\x94 said the North Corkian.

Father Luke halted, while a muttered \x93Blessed Virgin\x94 announced his state
of fear and trepidation.

\x93D\x92Array, I say, what are we to do.\x94

\x93The countersign,\x94 said the sentry, whose figure they could perceive in
the dim distance of about thirty yards.

\x93Sure ye\x92ll let us pass, my good lad, and ye\x92ll have a friend in Father
Luke the longest day ye live, and ye might have a worse in time of need;
ye understand.\x94

Whether he did understand or not, he certainly did not heed, for his only
reply was the short click of his gun-lock, that bespeaks a preparation to
fire.

\x93There\x92s no help now,\x94 said Father Luke; \x93I see he\x92s a haythen; and bad
luck to the major, I say again;\x94 and this in the fulness of his heart he
uttered aloud.

\x93That\x92s not the countersign,\x94 said the inexorable sentry, striking the
butt end of the musket on the ground with a crash that smote terror into
the hearts of the priests.

Mumble--mumble--\x93to the Pope,\x94 said Father Luke, pronouncing the last
words distinctly, after the approved practice of a Dublin watchman, on
being awoke from his dreams of row and riot by the last toll of the
Post-office, and not knowing whether it has struck \x93twelve\x94 or \x93three,\x94
 sings out the word \x93o\x92clock,\x94 in a long sonorous drawl, that wakes every
sleeping citizen, and yet tells nothing how \x93time speeds on his flight.\x94

\x93Louder,\x94 said the sentry, in a voice of impatience.

_____ \x93to the Pope.\x94

\x93I don\x92t hear the first part.\x94

\x93Oh then,\x94 said the priest, with a sigh that might have melted the heart
of anything but a sentry, \x93Bloody end to the Pope; and may the saints in
heaven forgive me for saying it.\x94

\x93Again,\x94 called out the soldier; \x93and no muttering.\x94

\x93Bloody end to the Pope,\x94 cried Father Luke in bitter desperation.

\x93Bloody end to the Pope,\x94 echoed the Abbe.

\x93Pass bloody end to the Pope, and good night,\x94 said the sentry, resuming
his rounds, while a loud and uproarious peal of laughter behind, told the
unlucky priests they were overheard by others, and that the story would
be over the whole town in the morning.

Whether it was that the penance for their heresy took long in
accomplishing, or that they never could summon courage sufficient to face
their persecutor, certain it is, the North Cork saw them no more, nor
were they ever observed to pass the precincts of the college, while that
regiment occupied Maynooth.

Major Jones himself, and his confederates, could not have more heartily
relished this story, than did the party to whom the doctor heartily
related it.  Much, if not all the amusement it afforded, however,
resulted from his inimitable mode of telling, and the power of mimicry,
with which he conveyed the dialogue with the sentry: and this, alas, must
be lost to my readers, at least to that portion of them not fortunate
enough to possess Doctor Finucane\x92s acquaintance.

\x93Fin! Fin! your long story has nearly famished me,\x94 said the padre, as
the laugh subsided; \x93and there you sit now with the jug at your elbow
this half-hour; I never thought you would forget our old friend Martin
Hanegan\x92s aunt.\x94

\x93Here\x92s to her health,\x94 said Fin; \x93and your reverence will get us the
chant.\x94

\x93Agreed,\x94 said Father Malachi, finishing a bumper, and after giving a few
preparatory hems, he sang the following \x93singularly wild and beautiful
poem,\x94 as some one calls Christabel:--

\x93Here\x92s a health to Martin Hanegan\x92s aunt,
And I\x92ll tell ye the reason why!
She eats bekase she is hungry,
And drinks bekase she is dry.

\x93And if ever a man,
Stopped the course of a can,
Martin Hanegan\x92s aunt would cry--
\x91Arrah, fill up your glass,
And let the jug pass;
How d\x92ye know but what your neighbour\x92s dhry?\x94

\x93Come, my lord and gentlemen, da capo, if ye please--Fill up your glass,\x94
 and the chanson was chorussed with a strength and vigour that would
have astonished the Philharmonic.

The mirth and fun now grew \x93fast and furious;\x94 and Father Malachi, rising
with the occasion, flung his reckless drollery and fun on every side,
sparing none, from his cousin to the coadjutor.  It was not that peculiar
period in the evening\x92s enjoyment, when an expert and practical chairman
gives up all interference or management, and leaves every thing to take
its course; this then was the happy moment selected by Father Malachi to
propose the little \x93contrhibution.\x94  He brought a plate from a side
table, and placing it before him, addressed the company in a very brief
but sensible speech, detailing the object of the institution he was
advocating, and concluding with the following words:--\x93and now ye\x92ll just
give whatever ye like, according to your means in life, and what ye can
spare.\x94

The admonition, like the \x93morale\x94 of an income tax, having the immediate
effect of pitting each man against his neighbour, and suggesting to their
already excited spirits all the ardour of gambling, without, however,
a prospect of gain.  The plate was first handed to me in honour of my
\x93rank,\x94 and having deposited upon it a handful of small silver, the
priest ran his finger through the coin, and called out:--

\x93Five pounds! at least; not a farthing less, as I am a sinner.  Look,
then,--see now; they tell ye, the gentlemen don\x92t care for the like of
ye! but see for yourselves.  May I trouble y\x92r lordship to pass the plate
to Mr. Mahony--he\x92s impatient, I see.\x94

Mr. Mahony, about whom I perceived very little of the impatience alluded
to, was a grim-looking old Christian, in a rabbit-skin waistcoat, with
long flaps, who fumbled in the recesses of his breeches pocket for five
minutes, and then drew forth three shillings, which he laid upon the
plate, with what I fancied very much resembled a sigh.

\x93Six and sixpence, is it? or five shillings?--all the same, Mr. Mahony,
and I\x92ll not forget the thrifle you were speaking about this morning any
way;\x94 and here he leaned over as interceding with me for him, but in
reality to whisper into my ear, \x93the greatest miser from this to
Castlebar.\x94

\x93Who\x92s that put down the half guinea in goold?\x94 (And this time he spoke
truth.)  \x93Who\x92s that, I say?\x94

\x93Tim Kennedy, your reverence,\x94 said Tim, stroking his hair down with one
hand, and looking proud and modest at the same moment.

\x93Tim, ye\x92re a credit to us any day, and I always said so.  It\x92s a gauger
he\x92d like to be, my lord,\x94 said he, turning to me, in a kind of stage
whisper.  I nodded and muttered something, when he thanked me most
profoundly as if his suit had prospered.

\x93Mickey Oulahan--the lord\x92s looking at ye, Mickey.\x94  This was said
piannisime across the table, and had the effect of increasing Mr.
Oulahan\x92s donation from five shillings to seven--the last two being
pitched in very much in the style of a gambler making his final coup, and
crying \x93va banque.\x94  \x93The Oulahans were always dacent people--dacent
people, my lord.\x94

\x93Be gorra, the Oulahans was niver dacenter nor the Molowneys, any how,\x94
 said a tall athletic young fellow, as he threw down three crown pieces,
with an energy that made every coin leap from the plate.

\x93They\x92ll do now,\x94 said Father Brennan; \x93I\x92ll leave them to themselves;\x94
 and truly the eagerness to get the plate and put down the subscription,
fully equalled the rapacious anxiety I have witnessed in an old maid at
loo, to get possession of a thirty-shilling pool, be the same more or
less, which lingered on its way to her, in the hands of many a fair
competitor.

\x93Mr. M\x92Neesh\x94--Curzon had hitherto escaped all notice--\x93Mr. M\x92Neesh, to
your good health,\x94 cried Father Brennan.  \x93It\x92s many a secret they\x92ll be
getting out o\x92ye down there about the Scotch husbandry.\x94

Whatever poor Curzon knew of \x93drills,\x94 certainly did not extend to them
when occupied by turnips.  This allusion of the priest\x92s being caught up
by the party at the foot of the table, they commenced a series of
inquiries into different  Scotch plans of tillage--his brief and
unsatisfactory answers to which, they felt sure, were given in order to
evade imparting information.  By degrees, as they continued to press him
with questions, his replies grew more short, and a general feeling of
dislike on both sides was not very long in following.

The father saw this, and determining with his usual tact to repress it,
called on the adjutant for a song.  Now, whether he had but one in the
world, or whether he took this mode of retaliating for the annoyances he
had suffered, I know not; but true it is, he finished his tumbler at a
draught, and with a voice of no very peculiar sweetness, though
abundantly loud, began \x93The Boyne Water.\x94

He had just reached the word \x93battle,\x94 in the second line upon which he
was bestowing what he meant to be a shake, when, as if the word suggested
it, it seemed the signal for a general engagement.  Decanters, glasses,
jugs, candlesticks,--aye, and the money-dish, flew right and left--all
originally intended, it is true, for the head of the luckless adjutant,
but as they now and then missed their aim, and came in contact with the
\x93wrong man,\x94 invariably provoked retaliation, and in a very few minutes
the battle became general.

What may have been the doctor\x92s political sentiments on this occasion, I
cannot even guess; but he seemed bent upon performing the part of a
\x93convivial Lord Stanley,\x94 and maintaining a dignified neutrality.  With
this apparent object, he mounted upon the table, to raise himself, I
suppose, above the din and commotion of party clamour, and brandishing a
jug of scalding water, bestowed it with perfect impartiality on the
combatants on either side.  This Whig plan of conciliation, however well
intended, seemed not to prosper with either party; and many were the
missiles directed at the ill-starred doctor.  Meanwhile Father Malachi,
whether following the pacific instinct of his order, in seeking an asylum
in troublesome times, or equally moved by old habit to gather coin in low
places, (much of the money having fallen,) was industriously endeavouring
to insert himself beneath the table; in this, with one vigorous push, he
at last succeeded, but in so doing lifted it from its legs, and thus
destroying poor \x93Fin\x92s\x94 gravity, precipitated him, jug and all, into the
thickest part of the fray, where he met with that kind reception such a
benefactor ever receives at the hands of a grateful public.  I meanwhile
hurried to rescue poor Curzon, who, having fallen to the ground, was
getting a cast of his features taken in pewter, for such seemed the
operation a stout farmer was performing on the adjutant\x92s face with a
quart.  With considerable difficulty, notwithstanding my supposed
\x93lordship,\x94 I succeeded in freeing him from his present position; and he
concluding, probably, that enough had been done for one \x93sitting,\x94 most
willingly permitted me to lead him from the room.  I was soon joined by
the doctor, who assisted me in getting my poor friend to bed; which being
done, he most eagerly entreated me to join the company.  This, however,
I firmly but mildly declined, very much to his surprise; for as he
remarked--\x93They\x92ll all be like lambs now, for they don\x92t believe there\x92s
a whole bone in his body.\x94

Expressing my deep sense of the Christian-like forbearance of the party,
I pleaded fatigue, and bidding him good night, adjourned to my bed-room;
and here, although the arrangements fell somewhat short of the luxurious
ones appertaining to my late apartment at Callonby, they were most
grateful at the moment; and having \x93addressed myself to slumber,\x94 fell
fast asleep, and only awoke late on the following morning to wonder where
I was: from any doubts as to which I was speedily relieved by the
entrance of the priest\x92s bare-footed \x93colleen,\x94 to deposit on my table a
bottle of soda water, and announce breakfast, with his reverence\x92s
compliments.

Having made a hasty toilet, I proceeded to the parlour, which, however
late events might have impressed upon my memory, I could scarcely
recognise.  Instead of the long oak table and the wassail bowl, there
stood near the fire a small round table, covered with a snow--white
cloth, upon which shone in unrivalled brightness a very handsome tea
equipage--the hissing kettle on one hob was vis a vis\x92d by a gridiron
with three newly taken trout, frying under the reverential care of Father
Malachi himself--a heap of eggs ranged like shot in an ordnance yard,
stood in the middle of the table, while a formidable pile of buttered
toast browned before the grate--the morning papers were airing upon the
hearth--every thing bespoke that attention to comfort and enjoyment one
likes to discover in the house where chance may have domesticated him for
a day or two.

\x93Good morning, Mr. Lorrequer.  I trust you have rested well,\x94 said Father
Malachi as I entered.

\x93Never better; but where are our friends?\x94

\x93I have been visiting and comforting them in their affliction, and I may
with truth assert it is not often my fortune to have three as sickly
looking guests.  That was a most unlucky affair last night, and I must
apologise.\x94

\x93Don\x92t say a word, I entreat; I saw how it all occurred, and am quite
sure if it had not been for poor Curzon\x92s ill-timed melody--\x94

\x93You are quite right,\x94 said the father interrupting me.  \x93Your friend\x92s
taste for music--bad luck to it--was the \x91teterrima causa belli.\x92\x94

\x93And the subscription,\x94 said I; \x93how did it succeed?\x94

\x93Oh, the money went in the commotion; and although I have got some seven
pounds odd shillings of it, the war was a most expensive one to me.  I
caught old Mahony very busy under the table during the fray; but let us
say no more about it now--draw over your chair.  Tea or coffee? there\x92s
the rum if you like it \x91chasse.\x92\x94

I immediately obeyed the injunction, and commenced a vigorous assault
upon the trout, caught, as he informed me, \x93within twenty perches of the
house.\x94

\x93Your poor friend\x92s nose is scarcely regimental,\x94 said he, \x93this morning;
and as for Fin, he was never remarkable for beauty, so, though they might
cut and hack, they could scarcely disfigure him, as Juvenal says--isn\x92t
it Juvenal?

\x93\x91Vacuus viator cantabit ante Latronem;\x92

\x93or in the vernacular:

\x93\x91The empty traveller may whistle
Before the robber and his pistil\x92 (pistol).\x94

\x93There\x92s the Chili vinegar--another morsel of the trout?\x94

\x93I thank you; what excellent coffee, Father Malachi!\x94

\x93A secret I learned at St. Omer\x92s some thirty years since.  Any letters,
Bridget?\x94--to a damsel that entered with a pacquet in her hand.

\x93A gossoon from Kilrush, y\x92r reverence, with a bit of a note for the
gentleman there.\x94

\x93For me!--ah, true enough.  Harry Lorrequer, Esq. Kilrush--try
Carrigaholt.\x94  So ran the superscription--the first part being in a
lady\x92s handwriting; the latter very like the \x93rustic paling\x94 of the
worthy Mrs. Healy\x92s style.  The seal was a large one, bearing a coronet
at top, and the motto in old Norman--French, told me it came from
Callonby.

With what a trembling hand and beating heart I broke it open, and yet
feared to read it--so much of my destiny might be in that simple page.
For once in my life my sanguine spirit failed me; my mind could take in
but one casualty, that Lady Jane had divulged to her family the nature of
my attentions, and that in the letter before me lay a cold mandate of
dismissal from her presence for ever.

At last I summoned courage to read it; but having scrupled to present to
my readers the Reverend Father Brennan at the tail of a chapter, let me
not be less punctilious in the introduction of her ladyship\x92s billet.



CHAPTER VII.

THE LADY\x92S LETTER--PETER AND HIS ACQUAINTANCES--TOO LATE.

Her ladyship\x92s letter ran thus--

\x93Callonby, Tuesday morning.

\x93My dear Mr. Lorrequer,--My lord has deputed me to convey to you our
adieus, and at the same time to express our very great regret that we
should not have seen you before out departure from Ireland.  A sudden
call of the House, and some unexpected ministerial changes, require Lord
Callonby\x92s immediate presence in town; and probably before this reaches
you we shall be on the road.  Lord Kilkee, who left us yesterday, was
much distressed at not having seen you--he desired me to say you shall
hear from him from Leamington.  Although writing amid all the haste
and bustle of departure, I must not forget the principal part of my
commission, nor lady-like defer it to a postscript: my lord entreats that
you will, if possible, pass a month or two with us in London this season;
make any use of his name you think fit at the Horse-Guards, where he has
some influence.  Knowing as I do, with what kindness you ever accede to
the wishes of your friends, I need not say how much gratification this
will afford us all; but, sans response, we expect you.  Believe me to
remain, yours very sincerely,

\x93Charlotte Callonby.\x94

\x93P.S.--We are all quite well, except Lady Jane, who has a slight cold,
and has been feverish for the last day or two.\x94


Words cannot convey any idea of the torrent of contending emotions under
which I perused this letter.  The suddenness of the departure, without an
opportunity of even a moment\x92s leave-taking, completely unmanned me.
What would I not have given to be able to see her once more, even for an
instant--to say \x93a good bye\x94--to watch the feeling with which she parted
from me, and augur from it either favourably to my heart\x92s dearest hope,
or darkest despair.  As I continued to read on, the kindly tone of the
remainder reassured me, and when I came to the invitation to London,
which plainly argued a wish on their part to perpetuate the intimacy,
I was obliged to read it again and again, before I could convince myself
of its reality.  There it was, however, most distinctly and legibly
impressed in her ladyship\x92s fairest calligraphy; and certainly great as
was its consequence to me at the time, it by no means formed the
principal part of the communication.  The two lines of postscript
contained more, far more food for hopes and fears than did all the
rest of the epistle.

Lady Jane was ill then, slightly however--a mere cold; true, but she was
feverish.  I could not help asking myself what share had I causing that
flushed cheek and anxious eye, and pictured to myself, perhaps with more
vividness than reality, a thousand little traits of manner, all proofs
strong as holy writ to my sanguine mind, that my affection was returned,
and that I loved not in vain.  Again and again I read over the entire
letter; never truly did a nisi prius lawyer con over a new act of
parliament with more searching ingenuity, to detect its hidden meaning,
than did I to unravel through its plain phraseology the secret intention
of the writer towards me.

There is an old and not less true adage, that what we wish we readily
believe; and so with me--I found myself an easy convert to my own hopes
and desires, and actually ended by persuading myself--no very hard task
--that my Lord Callonby had not only witnessed but approved of my
attachment to his beautiful daughter, and for reasons probably known to
him, but concealed from me, opined that I was a suitable \x93parti,\x94 and
gave all due encouragement to my suit.  The hint about using his
lordship\x92s influence at the Horse guards I resolved to benefit by; not,
however, in obtaining leave of absence, which I hoped to accomplish more
easily, but with his good sanction in pushing my promotion, when I
claimed him as my right honorable father-in-law--a point, on the
propriety of which, I had now fully satisfied myself.  What visions of
rising greatness burst upon my mind, as I thought on the prospect that
opened before me; but here let me do myself the justice to record, that
amid all my pleasure and exultation, my proudest thought, was in the
anticipation of possessing one in every way so much my superior--the very
consciousness of which imparted a thrill of fear to my heart, that such
good fortune was too much even to hope for.

How long I might have luxuriated in such Chateaux en Espagne, heaven
knows; thick and thronging fancies came abundantly to my mind, and it
was with something of the feeling of the porter in the Arabian Nights,
as he surveyed the fragments of his broken ware, hurled down in a moment
of glorious dreaminess, that I turned to look at the squat and
unaristocratic figure of Father Malachi, as he sat reading his newspaper
before the fire.  How came I in such company; methinks the Dean of
Windsor, or the Bishop of Durham had been a much more seemly associate
for one destined as I was for the flood-tide of the world\x92s favour.

My eye at this instant rested upon the date of the letter, which was that
of the preceding morning, and immediately a thought struck me that, as
the day was a louring and gloomy one, perhaps they might have deferred
their journey, and I at once determined to hasten to Callonby, and, if
possible, see them before their departure.

\x93Father Brennan,\x94 said I, at length, \x93I have just received a letter which
compels me to reach Kilrush as soon as possible.  Is there any public
conveyance in the village?\x94

\x93You don\x92t talk of leaving us, surely,\x94 said the priest, \x93and a haunch of
mutton for dinner, and Fin says he\x92ll be down, and your friend, too, and
we\x92ll have poor Beamish in on a sofa.\x94

\x93I am sorry to say my business will not admit of delay, but, if possible,
I shall return to thank you for all you kindness, in a day or two
--perhaps tomorrow.\x94

\x93Oh, then,\x94 said Father Brennan, \x93if it must be so, why you can have
\x91Pether,\x92 my own pad, and a better you never laid leg over; only give him
his own time, and let him keep the \x91canter,\x92 and he\x92ll never draw up from
morning till night; and now I\x92ll just go and have him in readiness for
you.\x94

After professing my warm acknowledgments to the good father for his
kindness, I hastened to take a hurried farewell of Curzon before going.
I found him sitting up in bed taking his breakfast; a large strip of
black plaster, extending from the corner of one eye across the nose, and
terminating near the mouth, denoted the locale of a goodly wound, while
the blue, purple and yellow patches into which his face was partitioned
out, left you in doubt whether he now resembled the knave of clubs or a
new map of the Ordnance survey; one hand was wrapped up in a bandage, and
altogether a more rueful and woe-begone looking figure I have rarely
looked upon; and most certainly I am of opinion that the \x93glorious, pious
and immortal memory\x94 would have brought pleasanter recollections to
Daniel O\x92Connell himself, than it would on that morning to the adjutant
of his majesty\x92s 4_th.

\x93Ah, Harry,\x94 said he, as I entered, \x93what Pandemonium is this we\x92ve got
into? did you ever witness such a business as last night\x92s?\x94

\x93Why truly,\x94 said I, \x93I know of no one to blame but yourself; surely you
must have known what a fracas your infernal song would bring on.\x94

\x93I don\x92t know now whether I knew it or not; but certainly at the moment
I should have preferred anything to the confounded cross-examination I
was under, and was glad to end it by any coup d\x92etat.  One wretch was
persecuting me about green crops, and another about the feeding of
bullocks; about either of which I knew as much as a bear does of a
ballet.\x94

\x93Well, truly, you caused a diversion at some expense to your countenance,
for I never beheld anything--\x94

\x93Stop there,\x94 said he, \x93you surely have not seen the doctor--he beats me
hollow--they have scarcely left so much hair on his head as would do for
an Indian\x92s scalp lock; and, of a verity, his aspect is awful this
morning; he has just been here, and by-the-bye has told me all about your
affair with Beamish.  It appears that somewhere you met him at dinner,
and gave a very flourishing account of a relative of his who you informed
him was not only selected for some very dashing service, but actually the
personal friend of Picton; and, after the family having blazed the matter
all over Cork, and given a great entertainment in honor of their kinsman,
it turns out that, on the glorious 19th, he ran away to Brussels faster
than even the French to Charleroi; for which act, however, there was no
aspersion ever cast upon his courage, that quality being defended at the
expense of his honesty; in a word, he was the paymaster of the company,
and had what Theodore Hook calls an \x91affection of his chest,\x92 that
required change of air.  Looking only to the running away part of the
matter, I unluckily expressed some regret that he did not belong to the
North Cork, and I remarked the doctor did not seem to relish the
allusion, and as I only now remember, it was his regiment, I suppose
I\x92m in for more mischief.\x94

I had no time to enjoy Curzon\x92s dilemma, and had barely informed him of
my intended departure, when a voice from without the room proclaimed that
\x93Pether\x94 was ready, and having commissioned the adjutant to say the
\x93proper\x94 to Mr. Beamish and the doctor, hurried away, and after a hearty
shake of the hand from Father Brennan, and a faithful promise to return
soon, I mounted and set off.

Peter\x92s pace was of all others the one least likely to disturb the
lucubrations of a castle-builder like myself; without any admonition from
whip or spur he maintained a steady and constant canter, which, I am free
to confess, was more agreeable to sit, than it was graceful to behold;
for his head being much lower than his tail, he every moment appeared in
the attitude of a diver about to plunge into the water, and more than
once I had misgivings that I would consult my safety better if I sat with
my face to the tail; however, what will not habit accomplish? before I
had gone a mile or two, I was so lost in my own reveries and reflections,
that I knew nothing of my mode of progression, and had only thoughts and
feelings for the destiny that awaited me; sometimes I would fancy myself
seated in the House of Commons, (on the ministerial benches, of course,)
while some leading oppositionist was pronouncing a glowing panegyric upon
the eloquent and statesmanlike speech of the gallant colonel--myself;
then I thought I was making arrangements for setting out for my new
appointment, and Sancho Panza never coveted the government of an island
more than I did, though only a West Indian one; and, lastly, I saw myself
the chosen diplomate on a difficult mission, and was actually engaged in
the easy and agreeable occupation of outmaneuvering Talleyrand and Pozzo
di Borgo, when Peter suddenly drew up at the door of a small cabin, and
convinced me that I was still a mortal man, and a lieutenant in his
Majesty\x92s 4_th.  Before I had time afforded me even to guess at the
reason of this sudden halt, an old man emerged from the cabin, which I
saw now was a road-side ale-house, and presented Peter with a bucket of
meal and water, a species of \x93viaticum\x94 that he evidently was accustomed
to, at this place, whether bestrode by a priest or an ambassador.  Before
me lay a long straggling street of cabins, irregularly thrown, as if
riddled over the ground; this I was informed was Kilkee; while my good
steed, therefore, was enjoying his potation, I dismounted, to stretch my
legs and look about me, and scarcely had I done so when I found half the
population of the village assembled round Peter, whose claims to
notoriety, I now learned, depended neither upon his owner\x92s fame, nor
even my temporary possession of him.  Peter, in fact, had been a racer,
once--when, the wandering Jew might perhaps have told, had he ever
visited Clare--for not the oldest inhabitant knew the date of his
triumphs on the turf; though they were undisputed traditions, and never
did any man appear bold enough to call them in question: whether it was
from his patriarchal character, or that he was the only race-horse ever
known in his county I cannot say, but, of a truth, the Grand Lama could
scarcely be a greater object of reverence in Thibet, than was Peter in
Kilkee.

\x93Musha, Peter, but it\x92s well y\x92r looking,\x94 cried one.

\x93Ah, thin, maybe ye an\x92t fat on the ribs,\x94 cried another.

\x93An\x92 cockin\x92 his tail like a coult,\x94 said a third.

I am very certain, if I might venture to judge from the faces about,
that, had the favourite for the St. Leger, passed through Kilkee at that
moment, comparisons very little to his favor had been drawn from the
assemblage around me.  With some difficulty I was permitted to reach my
much admired steed, and with a cheer, which was sustained and caught up
by every denizen of the village as I passed through, I rode on my way,
not a little amused at my equivocal popularity.

Being desirous to lose no time, I diverged from the straight road which
leads to Kilrush, and took a cross bridle-path to Callonby; this, I
afterwards discovered was a detour of a mile or two, and it was already
sun-set when I reached the entrance to the park.  I entered the avenue,
and now my impatience became extreme, for although Peter continued to
move at the same uniform pace, I could not persuade myself that he was
not foundering at every step, and was quite sure we were scarcely
advancing; at last I reached the wooden bridge, and ascended the steep
slope, the spot where I had first met her, on whom my every thought now
rested.  I turned the angle of the clump of beech trees from whence the
first view of the house is caught--I perceived to my inexpressible
delight that gleams of light shone from many of the windows, and could
trace their passing from one to the other.  I now drew rein, and with a
heart relieved from a load of anxiety, pulled up my good steed, and began
to think of the position in which a few brief seconds would place me.
I reached the small flower-garden, sacred by a thousand endearing
recollections.  Oh! of how very little account are the many words of
passing kindness, and moments of light-hearted pleasure, when spoken or
felt, compared to the memory of them when hallowed by time or distance.

\x93The place, the hour, the sunshine and the shade,\x94 all reminded me of the
happy past, and all brought vividly before me every portion of that dream
of happiness in which I was so utterly--so completely steeped--every
thought of the hopelessness of my passion was lost in the intensity of
it, and I did not, in the ardour of my loving, stop to think of its
possible success.

It was strange enough that the extreme impatience, the hurried anxiety, I
had felt and suffered from, while riding up the avenue, had now fled
entirely, and in its place I felt nothing but a diffident distrust of
myself, and a vague sense of awkwardness about intruding thus
unexpectedly upon the family, while engaged in all the cares and
preparations for a speedy departure.  The hall-door lay as usual wide
open, the hall itself was strewn and littered with trunks, imperials,
and packing-cases, and the hundred et ceteras of travelling baggage.
I hesitated a moment whether I should not ring, but at last resolved to
enter unannounced, and, presuming upon my intimacy, see what effect my
sudden appearance would have on Lady Jane, whose feelings towards me
would be thus most unequivocally tested.  I passed along the wide
corridor, entered the music-room--it was still--I walked then to the door
of the drawing-room--I paused--I drew a full breath--my hand trembled
slightly as I turned the lock--I entered--the room was empty, but the
blazing fire upon the hearth, the large arm-chairs drawn around, the
scattered books upon the small tables, all told that it had been
inhabited a very short time before.  Ah! thought I, looking at my watch,
they are at dinner, and I began at once to devise a hundred different
plans to account for my late absence and present visit.  I knew that a
few minutes would probably bring them into the drawing-room, and I felt
flurried and heated as the time drew near.  At last I heard voices
without--I started from the examination of a pencil drawing but partly
finished, but the artist of which I could not be deceived in--I listened
--the sounds drew near--I could not distinguish who were the speakers
--the door-lock turned, and I rose to make my well-conned, but
half-forgotten speech; and oh, confounded disappointment, Mrs. Herbert,
the house-keeper, entered.  She started, not expecting to see me, and
immediately said,

\x93Oh! Mr. Lorrequer! then you\x92ve missed them.\x94

\x93Missed them!\x94 said I; \x93how--when--where?\x94

\x93Did you not get a note from my lord?\x94

\x93No; when was it written?\x94

\x93Oh, dear me, that is so very unfortunate.  Why, sir, my lord sent off a
servant this morning to Kilrush, in Lord Kilkee\x92s tilbury, to request you
would meet them all in Ennis this evening, where they had intended to
stop for to-night; and they waited here till near four o\x92clock to-day,
but when the servant came back with the intelligence that you were from
home, and not expected to return soon, they were obliged to set out, and
are not going to make any delay now, till they reach London.  The last
direction, however, my lord gave, was to forward her ladyship\x92s letter to
you as soon as possible.\x94

What I thought, said, or felt, might be a good subject of confession to
Father Malachi, for I fear it may be recorded among my sins, as I doubt
not that the agony I suffered vented itself in no measured form of speech
or conduct; but I have nothing to confess here on the subject, being so
totally overwhelmed as not to know what I did or said.  My first gleam of
reason elicited itself by asking,

\x93Is there, then, no chance of their stopping in Ennis to-night?\x94  As I
put the question my mind reverted to Peter and his eternal canter.

\x93Oh, dear, no, sir; the horses are ordered to take them, since Tuesday;
and they only thought of staying in Ennis, if you came time enough to
meet them--and they will be so sorry.\x94

\x93Do you think so, Mrs. Herbert? do you, indeed, think so?\x94 said I, in a
most insinuating tone.

\x93I am perfectly sure of it, sir.\x94

\x93Oh, Mrs. Herbert, you are too kind to think so; but perhaps--that is
--may be, Mrs. Herbert, she said something--\x94

\x93Who, sir?\x94

\x93Lady Callonby, I mean; did her ladyship leave any message for me about
her plants? or did she remember--\x94

Mrs. Herbert kept looking at me all the time, with her great wide grey
eyes, while I kept stammering and blushing like a school-boy.

\x93No, sir; her ladyship said nothing, sir; but Lady Jane--\x94

\x93Yes; well, what of Lady Jane, my dear Mrs. Herbert?\x94

\x93Oh, sir! but you look pale; would not you like to have a little wine and
water--or perhaps--\x94

\x93No, thank you, nothing whatever; I am just a little fatigued--but you
were mentioning--\x94

\x93Yes, sir; I was saying that Lady Jane was mighty particular about a
small plant; she ordered it to be left in her dressing-room, though
Collins told her to have some of the handsome ones of the green-house,
she would have nothing but this; and if you were only to hear half the
directions she gave about keeping it watered, and taking off dead leaves,
you\x92d think her heart was set on it.\x94

Mrs. Herbert would have had no cause to prescribe for my paleness had she
only looked at me this time; fortunately, however, she was engaged,
housekeeper-like, in bustling among books, papers, &c. which she had come
in for the purpose of arranging and packing up.  She being left behind to
bring up the rear, and the heavy baggage.

Very few moments\x92 consideration were sufficient to show me that pursuit
was hopeless; whatever might have been Peter\x92s performance in the reign
of \x93Queen Anne,\x94 he had now become like the goose so pathetically
described by my friend Lover, rather \x93stiff in his limbs,\x94 and the odds
were fearfully against his overtaking four horses, starting fresh every
ten miles, not to mention their being some hours in advance already.
Having declined all Mrs. Herbert\x92s many kind offers, anent food and rest,
I took a last lingering look at the beautiful pictures, which still held
its place in the room lately mine, and hurried from a place so full of
recollections; and, notwithstanding the many reasons I had for
self-gratulation, every object around and about, filled me with sorrow
and regret for hours that had passed--never, never to return.

It was very late when I reached my old quarters at Kilrush; Mrs. Healy
fortunately was in bed asleep--fortunately I say, for had she selected
that occasion to vent her indignation for my long absence, I greatly fear
that, in my then temper I should have exhibited but little of that
Job-like endurance for which I was once esteemed; I entered my little
mean-looking parlour, with its three chairs and lame table, and, as I
flung myself upon the wretched substitute for a sofa, and thought upon
the varied events which a few weeks had brought about; it required the
aid of her ladyship\x92s letter, which I opened before me, to assure me I
was not dreaming.

The entire of that night I could not sleep; my destiny seemed upon its
balance; and, whether the scale inclined to this side or that, good or
evil fortune seemed to betide me.  How many were my plans and
resolutions, and how often abandoned; again to be pondered over, and once
more given up.  The grey dawn of the morning was already breaking, and
found me still doubting and uncertain.  At last the die was thrown; I
determined at once to apply for leave to my commanding officer, (which he
could, if he pleased, give me, without any application to the Horse
Guards,) set out for Elton, tell Sir Guy my whole adventure, and
endeavour, by a more moving love story than ever graced even the Minerva
Press, to induce him to make some settlement on me, and use his influence
with Lord Callonby in my behalf; this done, set out for London, and then
--and then--what then?--then for the Morning Post--\x93Cadeau de noces\x94
 --\x93happy couple\x94--\x93Lord Callonby\x92s seat in Hampshire,\x94 &c. &c.

\x93You wished to be called at five, sir,\x94 said Stubber.

\x93Yes; is it five o\x92clock?\x94

\x93No, sir; but I heard you call out something about \x91four horses,\x92 and I
thought you might be hurried, so I came a little earlier.\x94

\x93Quite right, Stubber; let me have my breakfast as soon as possible, and
see that chestnut horse I brought here last night, fed.\x94

\x93And now for it,\x94 said I, after writing a hurried note to Curzon,
requesting him to take command of my party at Kilrush, till he heard from
me, and sending my kindest remembrance to my three friends; I despatched
the epistle by my servant on Peter, while I hastened to acquire a place in
the mail for Ennis, on the box seat of which let my kind reader suppose
me seated, as wrapping my box-coat around me, I lit my cigar and turned
my eyes towards Limerick.



CHAPTER VIII.

CONGRATULATIONS--SICK LEAVE--HOW TO PASS THE BOARD.

I had scarcely seated myself to breakfast at Swinburn\x92s hotel in
Limerick, when the waiter presented me with a letter.  As my first glance
at the address showed it to be in Colonel Carden\x92s handwriting, I felt
not a little alarmed for the consequences of the rash step I had taken in
leaving my detachment; and, while quickly thronging fancies of arrest and
courtmartial flitted before me, I summoned resolution at last to break
the seal, and read as follows:--

     \x93My dear Lorrequer,\x94 (\x93dear Lorrequer!\x94 dear me, thought I; cool
     certainly, from one I have ever regarded as an open enemy)--\x93My dear
     Lorrequer, I have just accidentally heard of your arrival here, and
     hasten to inform you, that, as it may not be impossible your reasons
     for so abruptly leaving your detachment are known to me, I shall not
     visit your breach of discipline very heavily.  My old and worthy
     friend, Lord Callonby, who passed through here yesterday, has so
     warmly interested himself in your behalf, that I feel disposed to do
     all in my power to serve you; independently of my desire to do so on
     your own account.  Come over here, then, as soon as possible, and
     let us talk over your plans together.

                    \x93Believe me, most truly yours,
                                             \x93Henry Carden.
     \x93Barracks, 10 o\x92clock.\x94

However mysterious and difficult to unravel, have been some of the
circumstances narrated in these \x93Confessions,\x94 I do not scruple to avow
that the preceding letter was to me by far the most inexplicable piece of
fortune I had hitherto met with.  That Lord Callonby should have
converted one whom I believed an implacable foe, into a most obliging
friend, was intelligible enough, seeing that his lordship had through
life been the patron of the colonel; but why he had so done, and what
communications he could possibly have made with regard to me, that
Colonel Carden should speak of \x93my plans\x94 and proffer assistance in them
was a perfect riddle; and the only solution, one so ridiculously
flattering that I dared not think of it.  I read and re-read the note;
misplaced the stops; canvassed every expression; did all to detect a
meaning different from the obvious one, fearful of a self-deception where
so much was at stake.  Yet there it stood forth, a plain straightforward
proffer of services, for some object evidently known to the writer; and
my only conclusion, from all, was this, that \x93my Lord Callonby was the
gem of his order, and had a most remarkable talent for selecting a
son-in-law.\x94

I fell into a deep reverie upon my past life, and the prospects which I
now felt were opening before me.  Nothing seemed extravagant to hopes so
well founded--to expectations so brilliant--and, in my mind\x92s eye, I
beheld myself at one moment leading my young and beautiful bride through
the crowded salons of Devonshire House; and, at the next, I was
contemplating the excellence and perfection of my stud arrangements at
Melton, for I resolved not to give up hunting.  While in this pleasurable
exercise of my fancy, I was removing from before me some of the breakfast
equipage, or, as I then believed it, breaking the trees into better
groups upon my lawn, I was once more brought to the world and its dull
reality, by the following passage which my eye fell upon in the newspaper
before me--\x93We understand that the 4_th are daily expecting the route for
Cork, from whence they are to sail, early in the ensuing month for
Halifax, to relieve the 99th.\x94  While it did not take a moment\x92s
consideration to show me that though the regiment there mentioned was the
one I belonged to, I could have no possible interest in the announcement;
it never coming into my calculation that I should submit to such
expatriation; yet it gave me a salutary warning that there was no time
to be lost in making my application for leave, which, once obtained,
I should have ample time to manage an exchange into another corps.
The wonderful revolution a few days had effected in all my tastes and
desires, did not escape me at this moment.  But a week or two before and
I should have regarded an order for foreign service as anything rather
than unpleasant--now the thought was insupportable.  Then there would
have been some charm to me in the very novelty of the locale, and the
indulgence of that vagrant spirit I have ever possessed; for, like
Justice Woodcock, \x93I certainly should have been a vagabond if Providence
had not made me a justice of the peace\x94--now, I could not even
contemplate the thing as possible; and would have actually refused the
command of a regiment, if the condition of its acceptance were to sail
for the colonies.

Besides, I tried--and how ingenious is self-deception--I tried to find
arguments in support of my determination totally different from the
reasons which governed me.  I affected to fear climate, and to dread the
effect of the tropics upon my health.  It may do very well, thought I,
for men totally destitute of better prospects; with neither talent,
influence or powerful connexion, to roast their cheeks at Sierra Leone,
or suck a sugar-cane at St. Lucia.  But that you, Harry Lorrequer, should
waste your sweetness upon planters\x92 daughters--that have only to be
known, to have the world at your feet!  The thing is absurd, and not to
be thought of!  Yes, said I half aloud--we read in the army list, that
Major A. is appointed to the 50th, and Capt. B. to the 12th; but how much
more near the truth would it be, to say--\x93That His Majesty, in
consideration of the distinguished services of the one, has been
graciously pleased to appoint him to--a case of blue and collapsed
cholera, in India; and also, for the bravery and gallant conduct of the
other, in his late affair with the \x91How-dow-dallah Indians,\x92 has promoted
him to the--yellow fever now devastating and desolating Jamaica.\x94  How
far my zeal for the service might have carried me on this point, I know
not; for I was speedily aroused from my musings by the loud tramp of feet
upon the stairs, and the sound of many well-known voices of my brother
officers, who were coming to visit me.

\x93So, Harry, my boy,\x94 said the fat major as he entered; \x93is it true we are
not to have the pleasure of your company to Jamaica this time?\x94

\x93He prefers a pale face, it seems, to a black one; and certainly, with
thirty thousand in the same scale, the taste is excusable.\x94

\x93But, Lorrequer,\x94 said a third, \x93we heard that you had canvassed the
county on the Callonby interest.  Why, man, where do you mean to pull
up?\x94

\x93As for me,\x94 lisped a large-eyed, white-haired ensign of three months\x92
standing, \x93I think it devilish hard, old Carden didn\x92t send ME down
there, too, for I hear there are two girls in the family.  Eh,
Lorrequer?\x94

Having with all that peculiar bashfulness such occasions are sure to
elicit, disclaimed the happiness my friends so clearly ascribed to me,
I yet pretty plainly let it be understood that the more brilliant they
supposed my present prospects to be, the more near were they to estimate
them justly.  One thing certainly gratified me throughout.  All seemed
rejoiced at my good fortune, and even the old Scotch paymaster made no
more caustic remark than that he \x93wad na wonder if the chiel\x92s black
whiskers wad get him made governor of Stirling Castle before he\x92d dee.\x94

Should any of my most patient listeners to these my humble confessions,
wonder either here, or elsewhere, upon what very slight foundations I
built these my \x93Chateaux en Espagne,\x94 I have only one answer--\x93that from
my boyhood I have had a taste for florid architecture, and would rather
put up with any inconvenience of ground, than not build at all.\x94

As it was growing late I hurriedly bade adieu to my friends, and hastened
to Colonel Carden\x92s quarters, where I found him waiting for me, in
company with my old friend, Fitzgerald, our regimental surgeon.  Our
first greetings over, the colonel drew me aside into a window, and said
that, from certain expressions Lord Callonby had made use of--certain
hints he had dropped--he was perfectly aware of the delicate position in
which I stood with respect to his lordship\x92s family.  \x93In fact, my dear
Lorrequer,\x94 he continued, \x93without wishing in the least to obtrude myself
upon your confidence, I must yet be permitted to say, you are the
luckiest fellow in Europe, and I most sincerely congratulate you on the
prospect before you.\x94

\x93But, my dear Colonel, I assure you--\x94

\x93Well, well, there--not a word more; don\x92t blush now.  I know there is
always a kind of secrecy thought necessary on these occasions, for the
sake of other parties; so let us pass to your plans.  From what I have
collected, you have not yet proposed formally.  But, of course you desire
a leave.  You\x92ll not quit the army, I trust; no necessity for that; such
influence as yours can always appoint you to an unattached commission.\x94

\x93Once more let me protest, sir, that though for certain reasons most
desirous to obtain a leave of absence, I have not the most remote--\x94

\x93That\x92s right, quite right; I am sincerely gratified to hear you say so,
and so will be Lord Callonby; for he likes the service.\x94

And thus was my last effort at a disclaimer cut short by the loquacious
little colonel, who regarded my unfinished sentence as a concurrence with
his own opinion.

\x93Allah il Allah,\x94 thought I, \x93it is my Lord Callonby\x92s own plot; and his
friend Colonel Cardon aids and abets him.\x94

\x93Now, Lorrequer,\x94 resumed the colonel, \x93let us proceed.  You have, of
course, heard that we are ordered abroad; mere newspaper report for the
present; nevertheless, it is extremely difficult--almost impossible,
without a sick certificate, to obtain a leave sufficiently long for your
purpose.\x94

And here he smirked, and I blushed, selon les regles..

\x93A sick certificate,\x94 said I in some surprise.

\x93The only thing for you,\x94 said Fitzgerald, taking a long pinch of snuff;
\x93and I grieve to say you have a most villainous look of good health about
you.\x94

\x93I must acknowledge I have seldom felt better.\x94

\x93So much the worse--so much the worse,\x94 said Fitzgerald despondingly.
\x93Is there no family complaint; no respectable heir-loom of infirmity, you
can lay claim to from your kindred?\x94

\x93None, that I know of, unless a very active performance on the several
occasions of breakfast, dinner, and supper, with a tendency towards port,
and an inclination to sleep ten in every twenty-four hours, be a sign of
sickness; these symptoms I have known many of the family suffer for
years, without the slightest alleviation, though, strange as it may
appear, they occasionally had medical advice.\x94

Fitz. took no notice of my sneer at the faculty, but proceeded to strike
my chest several times, with his finger tips.  \x93Try a short cough now,\x94
 said he.  \x93Ah, that will never do!\x94

\x93Do you ever flush.  Before dinner I mean?\x94

\x93Occasionally, when I meet with a luncheon.\x94

\x93I\x92m fairly puzzled,\x94 said poor Fitz. throwing himself into a chair;
\x93gout is a very good thing; but, then, you see you are only a sub., and
it is clearly against the articles of war, to have it before being a
field officer at least.  Apoplexy is the best I can do for you; and, to
say the truth, any one who witnesses your performance at mess, may put
faith in the likelihood of it.

\x93Do you think you could get up a fit for the medical board,\x94 said Fitz.,
gravely.

\x93Why, if absolutely indispensable,\x94 said I, \x93and with good instruction
--something this way.  Eh, is it not?\x94

\x93Nothing of the kind: you are quite wrong.\x94

\x93Is there not always a little laughing and crying,\x94 said I.

\x93Oh, no, no; take the cue from the paymaster any evening after mess, and
you\x92ll make no mistake--very florid about the cheeks; rather a lazy look
in one eye, the other closed up entirely; snore a little from time to
time, and don\x92t be too much disposed to talk.\x94

\x93And you think I may pass muster in this way.\x94

\x93Indeed you may, if old Camie, the inspector, happen to be (what he is
not often) in a good humour.  But I confess I\x92d rather you were really
ill, for we\x92ve passed a great number of counterfeits latterly, and we may
be all pulled up ere long.\x94

\x93Not the less grateful for your kindness,\x94 said I; \x93but still, I\x92d rather
matters stood as they do.\x94

Having, at length, obtained a very formidable statement of my \x91case\x92 from
the Doctor, and a strong letter from the Colonel, deploring the temporary
loss of so promising a young officer, I committed myself and my
portmanteau to the inside of his Majesty\x92s mail, and started for Dublin
with as light a heart and high spirits, as were consistent with so much
delicacy of health, and the directions of my Doctor.



CHAPTER IX.

THE ROAD--TRAVELLING ACQUAINTANCES--A PACKET ADVENTURE.

I shall not stop now to narrate the particulars of my visit to the
worthies of the medical board; the rather, as some of my \x93confessions
to come\x94 have reference to Dublin, and many of those that dwell therein.
I shall therefore content myself here with stating, that without any
difficulty I obtained a six months\x92 leave, and having received much
advice and more sympathy from many members of that body, took a
respectful leave of them, and adjourned to Bilton\x92s where I had ordered
dinner, and (as I was advised to live low) a bottle of Sneyd\x92s claret.
My hours in Dublin were numbered; at eight o\x92clock on the evening of my
arrival I hastened to the Pidgeon House pier, to take my berth in the
packet for Liverpool; and here, gentle reader, let me implore you if you
have bowels of compassion, to commiserate the condition of a sorry mortal
like myself.  In the days of which I now speak, steam packets were not
--men knew not then, of the pleasure of going to a comfortable bed in
Kingstown harbour, and waking on the morning after in the Clarence dock
at Liverpool, with only the addition of a little sharper appetite for
breakfast, before they set out on an excursion of forty miles per hour
through the air.

In the time I have now to commemorate, the intercourse between the two
countries was maintained by two sailing vessels of small tonnage, and
still scantier accommodation.  Of the one now in question I well
recollect the name--she was called the \x93Alert,\x94 and certainly a more
unfortunate misnomer could scarcely be conceived.  Well, there was no
choice; so I took my place upon the crowded deck of the little craft, and
in a drizzling shower of chilly rain, and amid more noise, confusion, and
bustle, than would prelude the launch of a line-of-battle ship, we
\x93sidled,\x94 goose-fashion, from the shore, and began our voyage towards
England.

It is not my intention, in the present stage of \x93my Confessions,\x94 to
delay on the road towards an event which influenced so powerfully, and so
permanently, my after life; yet I cannot refrain from chronicling a
slight incident which occurred on board the packet, and which, I have no
doubt, may be remembered by some of those who throw their eyes on these
pages.

One of my fellow-passengers was a gentleman holding a high official
appointment in the viceregal court, either comptroller of the household,
master of the horse, or something else equally magnificent; however,
whatever the nature of the situation, one thing is certain--one possessed
of more courtly manners, and more polished address, cannot be conceived,
to which he added all the attractions of a very handsome person and a
most prepossessing countenance.  The only thing the most scrupulous
critic could possibly detect as faulty in his whole air and bearing, was
a certain ultra refinement and fastidiousness, which in a man of
acknowledged family and connections was somewhat unaccountable, and
certainly unnecessary.  The fastidiousness I speak of, extended to
everything round and about him; he never eat of the wrong dish, nor spoke
to the wrong man in his life, and that very consciousness gave him a kind
of horror of chance acquaintances, which made him shrink within himself
from persons in every respect his equals.  Those who knew Sir Stewart
Moore, will know I do not exaggerate in either my praise or censure, and
to those who have not had that pleasure, I have only to say, theirs was
the loss, and they must take my word for the facts.

The very antithesis to the person just mentioned, was another passenger
then on board.  She, for even in sex they were different--she was a
short, squat, red-faced, vulgar-looking woman, of about fifty, possessed
of a most garrulous tendency, and talking indiscriminately with every one
about her, careless what reception her addresses met with, and quite
indifferent to the many rebuffs she momentarily encountered.  To me by
what impulse driven Heaven knows this amorphous piece of womanhood seemed
determined to attach herself.  Whether in the smoky and almost
impenetrable recesses of the cabin, or braving the cold and penetrating
rain upon deck, it mattered not, she was ever at my side, and not only
martyring me by the insufferable annoyance of her vulgar loquacity, but
actually, from the appearance of acquaintanceship such constant
association gave rise to, frightening any one else from conversing with
me, and rendering me, ere many hours, a perfect pariah among the
passengers.  By not one were we--for, alas, we had become Siamese--so
thoroughly dreaded as by the refined baronet I have mentioned; he
appeared to shrink from our very approach, and avoided us as though we
had the plagues of Egypt about us.  I saw this--I felt it deeply, and as
deeply and resolutely I vowed to be revenged, and the time was not long
distant in affording me the opportunity.

The interesting Mrs. Mulrooney, for such was my fair companion called,
was on the present occasion making her debut on what she was pleased to
call the \x93says;\x94 she was proceeding to the Liverpool market as proprietor
and supercargo over some legion of swine that occupied the hold of the
vessel, and whose mellifluous tones were occasionally heard in all
parts of the ship.  Having informed me on these, together with some
circumstances of her birth and parentage, she proceeded to narrate some
of the cautions given by her friends as to her safety when making such a
long voyage, and also to detail some of the antiseptics to that dread
scourge, sea-sickness, in the fear and terror of which she had come on
board, and seemed every hour to be increasing in alarm about.

\x93Do you think then sir, that pork is no good agin the sickness?  Mickey,
that\x92s my husband, sir, says it\x92s the only thing in life for it, av it\x92s
toasted.\x94

\x93Not the least use, I assure you.\x94

\x93Nor sperits and wather?\x94

\x93Worse and worse, ma\x92am.\x94

\x93Oh, thin, maybe oaten mail tay would do? it\x92s a beautiful thing for the
stomick, any how.\x94

\x93Rank poison on the present occasion, believe me.\x94

\x93Oh, then, blessed Mary, what am I to do--what is to become of me?\x94

\x93Go down at once to your berth, ma\x92am; lie still and without speaking
till we come in sight of land; or,\x94 and here a bright thought seized me,
\x93if you really feel very ill, call for that man there, with the fur
collar on his coat; he can give you the only thing I ever knew of any
efficacy; he\x92s the steward, ma\x92am, Stewart Moore; but you must be on your
guard too as you are a stranger, for he\x92s a conceited fellow, and has
saved a trifle, and sets up for a half gentleman; so don\x92t be surprised
at his manner; though, after all, you may find him very different; some
people, I\x92ve heard, think him extremely civil.\x94

\x93And he has a cure, ye say?\x94

\x93The only one I ever heard of; it is a little cordial of which you take,
I don\x92t know how much, every ten or fifteen minutes.\x94

\x93And the naygur doesn\x92t let the saycret out, bad manners to him?\x94

\x93No, ma\x92am; he has refused every offer on the subject.\x92

\x93May I be so bowld as to ax his name again?\x94

\x93Stewart Moore, ma\x92am.  Moore is the name, but people always call him
Stewart Moore; just say that in a loud clear voice, and you\x92ll soon have
him.\x94

With the most profuse protestations of gratitude and promises of pork \x93at
discretion,\x94 if I ever sojourned at Ballinasloe, my fair friend proceeded
to follow my advice, and descended to the cabin.

Some hours after, I also betook myself to my rest, from which, however,
towards midnight I was awoke by the heavy working and pitching of the
little vessel, as she laboured in a rough sea.  As I looked forth from my
narrow crib, a more woe-begone picture can scarcely be imagined than that
before me.  Here and there through the gloomy cabin lay the victims of
the fell malady, in every stage of suffering, and in every attitude of
misery.  Their cries and lamentings mingled with the creaking of the
bulk-heads and the jarring twang of the dirty lamp, whose irregular swing
told plainly how oscillatory was our present motion.  I turned from the
unpleasant sight, and was about again to address myself to slumber with
what success I might, when I started at the sound of a voice in the very
berth next to me--whose tones, once heard, there was no forgetting.  The
words ran as nearly as I can recollect thus:--

\x93Oh, then, bad luck to ye for pigs, that ever brought me into the like of
this.  Oh, Lord, there it is again.\x94  And here a slight interruption to
eloquence took place, during which I was enabled to reflect upon the
author of the complaint, who, I need not say, was Mrs. Mulrooney.

\x93I think a little tay would settle my stomach, if I only could get it;
but what\x92s the use of talking in this horrid place?  They never mind me
no more than if I was a pig.  Steward, steward--oh, then, it\x92s wishing
you well I am for a steward.  Steward, I say;\x94 and this she really did
say, with an energy of voice and manner that startled more than one
sleeper.  \x93Oh, you\x92re coming at last, steward.\x94

\x93Ma\x92am,\x94 said a little dapper and dirty personage, in a blue jacket, with
a greasy napkin negligently thrown over one arm \x93ex officio,\x94 \x93Ma\x92am, did
you call?\x94

\x93Call, is it call?  No; but I\x92m roaring for you this half hour.  Come
here.  Have you any of the cordial dhrops agin the sickness?--you know
what I mean.\x94

\x93Is it brandy, ma\x92am?\x94

\x93No, it isn\x92t brandy;\x94

\x93We have got gin, ma\x92am, and bottled porter--cider, ma\x92am, if you like.\x94

\x93Agh, no! sure I want the dhrops agin the sickness.\x94

\x93Don\x92t know indeed, ma\x92am.\x94

\x93Ah, you stupid creature; maybe you\x92re not the real steward.  What\x92s your
name?\x94

\x93Smith, ma\x92am.\x94

\x93Ah, I thought so; go away, man, go away.\x94

This injunction, given in a diminuendo cadence, was quickly obeyed, and
all was silence for a moment or two.  Once more was I dropping asleep,
when the same voice as before burst out with--

\x93Am I to die here like a haythen, and nobody to come near me?  Steward,
steward, steward Moore, I say,\x94

\x93Who calls me?\x94 said a deep sonorous voice from the opposite side of the
cabin, while at the same instant a tall green silk nightcap, surmounting
a very aristocratic-looking forehead, appeared between the curtains of
the opposite berth.

\x93Steward Moore,\x94 said the lady again, with her eyes straining in the
direction of the door by which she expected him to enter.

\x93This is most strange,\x94 muttered the baronet, half aloud.  \x93Why, madam,
you are calling me!\x94

\x93And if I am,\x94 said Mrs. Mulrooney, \x93and if ye heerd me, have ye no
manners to answer your name, eh?  Are ye steward Moore?\x94

\x93Upon my soul ma\x92am I thought so last night, when I came on board; but
you really have contrived to make me doubt my own identity.\x94

\x93And is it there ye\x92re lying on the broad of yer back, and me as sick as
a dog fornent ye?\x94

\x93I concede ma\x92am the fact; the position is a most irksome one on every
account.\x94

\x93Then why don\x92t ye come over to me?\x94 and this Mrs. Mulrooney said with a
voice of something like tenderness--wishing at all hazards to conciliate
so important a functionary.

\x93Why, really you are the most incomprehensible person I ever met.\x94

\x93I\x92m what?\x94 said Mrs. Mulrooney, her blood rushing to her face and
temples as she spoke--for the same reason as her fair townswoman is
reported to have borne with stoical fortitude every harsh epithet of the
language, until it occurred to her opponent to tell her that \x93the divil a
bit better she was nor a pronoun;\x94 so Mrs. Mulrooney, taking \x93omne
ignotum pro horribili,\x94 became perfectly beside herself at the unlucky
phrase.  \x93I\x92m what? repate it av ye dare, and I\x92ll tear yer eyes out?  Ye
dirty bla--guard, to be lying there at yer ease under the blankets,
grinning at me.  What\x92s your thrade--answer me that--av it isn\x92t to wait
on the ladies, eh?\x94

\x93Oh, the woman must be mad,\x94 said Sir Stewart.

\x93The devil a taste mad, my dear--I\x92m only sick.  Now just come over to
me, like a decent creature, and give me the dhrop of comfort ye have.
Come, avick.\x94

\x93Go over to you?\x94

\x93Ay, and why not? or if it\x92s so lazy ye are, why then I\x92ll thry and cross
over to your side.\x94

These words being accompanied by a certain indication of change of
residence on the part of Mrs. Mulrooney, Sir Stewart perceived there was
no time to lose, and springing from his berth, he rushed half-dressed
through the cabin, and up the companion-ladder, just as Mrs. Mulrooney
had protruded a pair of enormous legs from her couch, and hung for a
moment pendulous before she dropped upon the floor, and followed him to
the deck.  A tremendous shout of laughter from the sailors and deck
passengers prevented my hearing the dialogue which ensued; nor do I yet
know how Mrs. Mulrooney learned her mistake.  Certain it is, she no more
appeared among the passengers in the cabin, and Sir Stewart\x92s manner the
following morning at breakfast amply satisfied me that I had had my
revenge.



CHAPTER X.

UPSET--MIND--AND BODY.

No sooner in Liverpool, than I hastened to take my place in the earliest
conveyance for London.  At that time the Umpire Coach was the perfection
of fast travelling; and seated behind the box, enveloped in a sufficiency
of broad-cloth, I turned my face towards town with as much anxiety and as
ardent expectations as most of those about me.  All went on in the
regular monotonous routine of such matters until we reached Northampton,
passing down the steep street of which town, the near wheel-horse
stumbled and fell; the coach, after a tremendous roll to one side,
toppled over on the other, and with a tremendous crash, and sudden shock,
sent all the outsides, myself among the number, flying through the air
like sea-gulls.  As for me, after describing a very respectable parabola,
my angle of incidence landed me in a bonnet-maker\x92s shop, having passed
through a large plate-glass window, and destroyed more leghorns and
dunstables than a year\x92s pay would recompense.  I have but light
recollection of the details of that occasion, until I found myself lying
in a very spacious bed at the George Inn, having been bled in both arms,
and discovering by the multitude of bandages in which I was enveloped,
that at least some of my bones were broken by the fall.  That such fate
had befallen my collar-bone and three of my ribs I soon learned; and was
horror-struck at hearing from the surgeon who attended me, that four or
five weeks would be the very earliest period I could bear removal with
safety.  Here then at once was a large deduction from my six months\x92
leave, not to think of the misery that awaited me for such a time,
confined to my bed in an inn, without books, friends, or acquaintances.
However even this could be remedied by patience, and summoning up all I
could command, I \x93bided my time,\x94 but not before I had completed a term
of two months\x92 imprisonment, and had become, from actual starvation,
something very like a living transparency.

No sooner, however, did I feel myself once more on the road, than my
spirits rose, and I felt myself as full of high hope and buoyant
expectancy as ever.  It was late at night when I arrived in London.
I drove to a quiet hotel in the west-end; and the following morning
proceeded to Portman-square, bursting with impatience to see my friends
the Callonbys, and recount all my adventures--for as I was too ill to
write from Northampton, and did not wish to entrust to a stranger the
office of communicating with them, I judged that they must be exceedingly
uneasy on my account, and pictured to myself the thousand emotions my
appearance so indicative of illness would give rise to; and could
scarcely avoid running in my impatience to be once more among them.  How
Lady Jane would meet me, I thought of over again and again; whether the
same cautious reserve awaited me, or whether her family\x92s approval would
have wrought a change in her reception of me, I burned to ascertain.  As
my thoughts ran on in this way, I found myself at the door; but was much
alarmed to perceive that the closed window-shutters and dismantled look
of the house proclaimed them from home.  I rung the bell, and soon
learned from a servant, whose face I had not seen before, that the family
had gone to Paris about a month before, with the intention of spending
the winter there.  I need not say how grievously this piece of
intelligence disappointed me, and for a minute or two I could not
collect my thoughts.  At last the servant said:

\x93If you have any thing very particular, sir, that my Lord\x92s lawyer can
do, I can give you his address.\x94

\x93No, thank you--nothing;\x94 at the same time I muttered to myself, \x93I\x92ll
have some occupation for him though ere long.  The family were all quite
well, didn\x92t you say?\x94

\x93Yes sir, perfectly well.  My Lord had only a slight cold,\x94

\x93Ah--yes--and there address is \x91Meurice;\x92 very well.\x94

So saying I turned from the door, and with slower steps than I had come,
returned to my hotel.

My immediate resolve was to set out for Paris; my second was to visit my
uncle, Sir Guy Lorrequer, first, and having explained to him the nature
of my position, and the advantageous prospects before me, endeavour to
induce him to make some settlement on Lady Jane, in the event of my
obtaining her family\x92s consent to our marriage.  This, from his liking
great people much, and laying great stress upon the advantages of
connexion, I looked upon as a matter of no great difficulty; so that,
although my hopes of happiness were delayed in their fulfilment, I
believed they were only about to be the more securely realized.  The same
day I set out for Elton, and by ten o\x92clock at night reached my uncle\x92s
house.  I found the old gentleman looking just as I had left him three
years before, complaining a little of gout in the left foot--praising his
old specific, port-wine--abusing his servants for robbing him--and
drinking the Duke of Wellington\x92s health every night after supper; which
meal I had much pleasure in surprising him at on my arrival--not having
eaten since my departure from London.

\x93Well, Harry,\x94 said my uncle, when the servants had left the room, and we
drew over the spider table to the fire to discuss our wine with comfort,
\x93what good wind has blown you down to me, my boy? for it\x92s odd enough,
five minutes before I heard the wheels on the gravel I was just wishing
some good fellow would join me at the grouse--and you see I have had my
wish!  The old story, I suppose, \x91out of cash.\x92  Would not come down here
for nothing--eh?  Come, lad, tell truth; is it not so?\x94

\x93Why, not exactly, sir; but I really had rather at present talk about
you, than about my own matters, which we can chat over tomorrow.  How do
you get on, sir, with the Scotch steward?\x94

\x93He\x92s a rogue, sir--a cheat--a scoundrel; but it is the same with them
all; and your cousin, Harry--your cousin, that I have reared from his
infancy to be my heir, (pleasant topic for me!) he cares no more for me
than the rest of them, and would never come near me, if it were not that,
like yourself, he was hard run for money, and wanted to wheedle me out of
a hundred or two.\x94

\x93But you forget, sir--I told you I have not come with such an object.\x94

\x93We\x92ll see that--we\x92ll see that in the morning,\x94 replied he, with an
incredulous shake of the head.

\x93But Guy, sir--what has Guy done?\x94

\x93What has he not done?  No sooner did he join that popinjay set of
fellows, the __th hussars, than he turned out, what he calls a
four-in-hand drag, which dragged nine hundred pounds out of my pocket
--then he has got a yacht at Cowes--a grouse mountain in Scotland--and
has actually given Tattersall an unlimited order to purchase the
Wreckinton pack of harriers, which he intends to keep for the use of the
corps.  In a word, there is not an amusement of that villanous regiment,
not a flask of champagne drank at their mess, I don\x92t bear my share in
the cost of; all through the kind offices of your worthy cousin, Guy
Lorrequer.\x94

This was an exceedingly pleasant expose for me, to hear of my cousin
indulged in every excess of foolish extravagance by his rich uncle, while
I, the son of an elder brother who unfortunately called me by his own
name, Harry, remained the sub. in a marching regiment, with not three
hundred pounds a year above my pay, and whom any extravagance, if such
had been proved against me would have deprived of even that small
allowance.  My uncle however did not notice the chagrin with which I
heard his narrative, but continued to detail various instances of wild
and reckless expense the future possessor of his ample property had
already launched into.

Anxious to say something without well-knowing what, I hinted that
probably my good cousin would reform some of these days, and marry.

\x93Marry,\x94 said my uncle; \x93yes, that, I believe, is the best thing we can
do with him; and I hope now the matter is in good train--so the latest
accounts say, at least.\x94

\x93Ah, indeed,\x94 said I, endeavouring to take an interest where I really
felt none--for my cousin and I had never been very intimate friends, and
the differences in our fortunes had not, at least to my thinking, been
compensated by any advances which he, under the circumstances, might have
made to me.

\x93Why, Harry, did you not hear of it?\x94 said my uncle.

\x93No--not a word, sir.\x94

\x93Very strange, indeed--a great match, Harry--a very great match, indeed.\x94

\x93Some rich banker\x92s daughter,\x94 thought I.  \x93What will he say when he
hears of my fortune?\x94

\x93A very fine young woman, too, I understand--quite the belle of London
--and a splendid property left by an aunt.\x94

I was bursting to tell him of my affair, and that he had another nephew,
to whom if common justice were rendered, his fortune was as certainly
made for life.

\x93Guy\x92s business happened this way,\x94 continued my uncle, who was quite
engrossed by the thought of his favourite\x92s success.  \x93The father of the
young lady met him in Ireland, or Scotland, or some such place, where he
was with his regiment--was greatly struck with his manner and address
--found him out to be my nephew--asked him to his house--and, in fact,
almost threw this lovely girl at his head before they were two months
acquainted.\x94

\x93As nearly as possible my own adventure,\x94 thought I, laughing to myself.

\x93But you have not told me who they are, sir,\x94 said I, dying to have his
story finished, and to begin mine.

\x93I\x92m coming to that--I\x92m coming to that.  Guy came down here, but did not
tell me one word of his having ever met the family, but begged me to give
him an introduction to them, as they were in Paris, where he was going on
a short leave; and the first thing I heard of the matter was a letter
from the papa, demanding from me if Guy was to be my heir, and asking
\x91how far his attentions in his family, met with my approval.\x92\x94

\x93Then how did you know sir that they were previously known to each
other?\x94

\x93The family lawyer told me, who heard it all talked over.\x94

\x93And why, then, did Guy get the letter of introduction from you, when he
was already acquainted with them?\x94

\x93I am sure I cannot tell, except that you know he always does every thing
unlike every one else, and to be sure the letter seems to have excited
some amusement.  I must show you his answer to my first note to know how
all was going on; for I felt very anxious about matters, when I heard
from some person who had met them, that Guy was everlastingly in the
house, and that Lord Callonby could not live without him.\x94

\x93Lord who, sir?\x94 said I in a voice that made the old man upset his glass,
and spring from his chair in horror.

\x93What the devil is the matter with the boy.  What makes you so pale?\x94

\x93Whose name did you say at that moment, sir,\x94 said I with a slowness of
speech that cost me agony.

\x93Lord Callonby, my old schoolfellow and fag at Eton.\x94

\x93And the lady\x92s name, sir?\x94 said I, in scarcely an audible whisper.

\x93I\x92m sure I forget her name; but here\x92s the letter from Guy, and I think
he mentions her name in the postscript.\x94

I snatched rudely the half-opened letter from the old man, as he was
vainly endeavouring to detect the place he wanted, and read as follows:

\x93My adored Jane is all your fondest wishes for my happiness could
picture, and longs to see her dear uncle, as she already calls you on
every occasion.\x94  I read no more--my eyes swam--the paper, the candles,
every thing before me, was misty and confused; and although I heard my
uncle\x92s voice still going on, I knew nothing of what he said.

For some time my mind could not take in the full extent of the base
treachery I had met with, and I sat speechless and stupified.  By degrees
my faculties became clearer, and with one glance I read the whole
business, from my first meeting with them at Kilrush to the present
moment.  I saw that in their attentions to me, they thought they were
winning the heir of Elton, the future proprietor of fifteen thousand per
annum.  From this tangled web of heartless intrigue I turned my thoughts
to Lady Jane herself.  How had she betrayed me! for certainly she had not
only received, but encouraged my addresses--and so soon, too.--To think
that at the very moment when my own precipitate haste to see her had
involved me in a nearly fatal accident, she was actually receiving the
attentions of another!  Oh, it was too, too bad.

But enough--even now I can scarcely dwell upon the memory of that moment,
when the hopes and dreams of many a long day and night were destined to
be thus rudely blighted.  I seized the first opportunity of bidding my
uncle good night; and having promised him to reveal all my plans on the
morrow, hurried to my room.

My plans! alas, I had none--that one fatal paragraph had scattered them
to the winds; and I threw myself upon my bed, wretched and almost
heart-broken.

I have once before in these \x93Confessions\x94 claimed to myself the
privilege, not inconsistent with a full disclosure of the memorabilia of
my life, to pass slightly over those passages, the burden of which was
unhappy, and whose memory is painful.  I must now, therefore, claim the
\x93benefit of this act,\x94 and beg of the reader to let me pass from this sad
portion of my history, and for the full expression of my mingled rage,
contempt, disappointment, and sorrow, let me beg of him to receive
instead, what a learned pope once gave as his apology for not reading a
rather polysyllabic word in a Latin letter--\x93As for this,\x94 said he,
looking at the phrase in question, \x93soit qui\x92l dit,\x94 so say I.  And now
--en route.



THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Volume 2

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.



Volume 2. (Chapters XI. to XVII.)


Contents:

CHAPTER XI
Cheltenham--Matrimonial Adventure--Showing how to make love for a friend

CHAPTER XII
Dublin--Tom O\x92Flaherty--A Reminiscence of the Peninsula

CHAPTER XIII
Dublin--The Boarding-house--Select Society

CHAPTER XIV
The Chase

CHAPTER XV
Mems Of the North Cork

CHAPTER XVI
Theatricals

CHAPTER XVI* (This chapter number is repeated in the print copy.)
The Wager

CHAPTER XVII
The Elopement



CHAPTER XI.

CHELTENHAM--MATRIMONIAL ADVENTURE--SHOWING HOW TO MAKE LOVE FOR A FRIEND.

It was a cold raw evening in February as I sat in the coffee-room of the
Old Plough in Cheltenham, \x93Lucullus c. Lucullo\x94--no companion save my
half-finished decanter of port.  I had drawn my chair to the corner of
the ample fire-place, and in a half dreamy state was reviewing the
incidents of my early life, and like most men who, however young, have
still to lament talents misapplied, opportunities neglected, profitless
labour, and disastrous idleness.  The dreary aspect of the large and
ill-lighted room--the close-curtained boxes--the unsocial look of every
thing and body about suited the habit of my soul, and I was on the verge
of becoming excessively sentimental--the unbroken silence, where several
people were present, had also its effect upon me, and I felt oppressed
and dejected.  So sat I for an hour; the clock over the mantel ticked
sharply on--the old man in the brown surtout had turned in his chair,
and now snored louder--the gentleman who read the Times had got the
Chronicle, and I thought I saw him nodding over the advertisements.
The father who, with a raw son of about nineteen, had dined at six,
sat still and motionless opposite his offspring, and only breaking the
silence around by the grating of the decanter as he posted it across the
table. The only thing denoting active existence was a little, shrivelled
man, who, with spectacles on his forehead, and hotel slippers on his
feet, rapidly walked up and down, occasionally stopping at his table to
sip a little weak-looking negus, which was his moderate potation for two
hours. I have been particular in chronicling these few and apparently
trivial circumstances, for by what mere trifles are our greatest and
most important movements induced--had the near wheeler of the Umpire
been only safe on his fore legs, and while I write this I might--but let
me continue.  The gloom and melancholy which beset me, momentarily
increased.  But three months before, and my prospects presented every
thing that was fairest and brightest--now all the future was dark and
dismal.  Then my best friends could scarcely avoid envy at my fortune
--now my reverses might almost excite compassion even in an enemy.  It
was singular enough, and I should not like to acknowledge it, were not
these Confessions in their very nature intended to disclose the very
penetralia of my heart; but singular it certainly was--and so I have
always felt it since, when reflecting on it--that although much and
warmly attached to Lady Jane Callonby, and feeling most acutely what I
must call her abandonment of me, yet, the most constantly recurring idea
of my mind on the subject was, what will the mess say--what will they
think at head-quarters?--the raillery, the jesting, the half-concealed
allusion, the tone of assumed compassion, which all awaited me, as each
of my comrades took up his line of behaving towards me, was, after all,
the most difficult thing to be borne, and I absolutely dreaded to join
my regiment, more thoroughly than did ever schoolboy to return to his
labour on the expiration of his holidays.  I had framed to myself all
manner of ways of avoiding this dread event; sometimes I meditated an
exchange into an African corps--sometimes to leave the army altogether.
However, I turned the affair over in my mind--innumerable difficulties
presented themselves, and I was at last reduced to that stand-still
point, in which, after continual vacillation, one only waits for the
slightest impulse of persuasion from another, to adopt any, no matter
what suggestion.  In this enviable frame of mind I sat sipping my wine,
and watching the clock for that hour at which, with a safe conscience, I
might retire to my bed, when the waiter roused me by demanding if my
name was Mr. Lorrequer, for that a gentleman having seen my card in the
bar, had been making inquiry for the owner of it all through the hotel.

\x93Yes,\x94 said I, \x93such is my name; but I am not acquainted with any one
here, that I can remember.\x94

\x93The gentleman has ony arrived an hour since by the London mail, sir, and
here he is.\x94

At this moment, a tall, dashing-looking, half-swaggering fellow, in a
very sufficient envelope of box-coats, entered the coffee-room, and
unwinding a shawl from his throat, showed me the honest and manly
countenance of my friend Jack Waller, of the __th dragoons, with whom I
had served in the Peninsula.

Five minutes sufficed for Jack to tell me that he was come down on a bold
speculation at this unseasonable time for Cheltenham; that he was quite
sure his fortune was about to be made in a few weeks at farthest, and
what seemed nearly as engrossing a topic--that he was perfectly famished,
and desired a hot supper, \x93de suite.\x94

Jack having despatched this agreeable meal with a traveller\x92s appetite,
proceeded to unfold his plans to me as follows:

There resided somewhere near Cheltenham, in what direction he did not
absolutely know, an old East India colonel, who had returned from a long
career of successful staff-duties and government contracts, with the
moderate fortune of two hundred thousand.  He possessed, in addition, a
son and a daughter; the former, being a rake and a gambler, he had long
since consigned to his own devices, and to the latter he had avowed his
intention of leaving all his wealth.  That she was beautiful as an angel
--highly accomplished--gifted--agreeable--and all that, Jack, who had
never seen her, was firmly convinced; that she was also bent resolutely
on marrying him, or any other gentleman whose claims were principally the
want of money, he was quite ready to swear to; and, in fact, so assured
did he feel that \x93the whole affair was feasible,\x94 (I use his own
expression,) that he had managed a two months\x92 leave, and was come down
express to see, make love to, and carry her off at once.

\x93But,\x94 said I, with difficulty interrupting him, \x93how long have you known
her father?\x94

\x93Known him?  I never saw him.\x94

\x93Well, that certainly is cool; and how do you propose making his
acquaintance.  Do you intend to make him a \x91particeps criminis\x92 in the
elopement of his own daughter, for a consideration to be hereafter paid
out of his own money?\x94

\x93Now, Harry, you\x92ve touched upon the point in which, you must confess,
my genius always stood unrivalled--acknowledge, if you are not dead to
gratitude--acknowledge how often should you have gone supperless to bed
in our bivouacs in the Peninsula, had it not been for the ingenuity of
your humble servant--avow, that if mutton was to be had, and beef to be
purloined, within a circuit of twenty miles round, our mess certainly
kept no fast days.  I need not remind you of the cold morning on the
retreat from Burgos, when the inexorable Lake brought five men to the
halberds for stealing turkeys, that at the same moment, I was engaged in
devising an ox-tail soup, from a heifer brought to our tent in jack-boots
the evening before, to escape detection by her foot tracks.\x94

\x93True, Jack, I never questioned your Spartan talent; but this affair,
time considered, does appear rather difficult.\x94

\x93And if it were not, should I have ever engaged in it?  No, no, Harry.  I
put all proper value upon the pretty girl, with her two hundred thousand
pounds pin-money.  But I honestly own to you, the intrigue, the scheme,
has as great charm for me as any part of the transaction.\x94

\x93Well, Jack, now for the plan, then!\x94

\x93The plan! oh, the plan.  Why, I have several; but since I have seen you,
and talked the matter over with you, I have begun to think of a new mode
of opening the trenches.\x94

\x93Why, I don\x92t see how I can possibly have admitted a single new ray of
light upon the affair.\x94

\x93There are you quite wrong.  Just hear me out without interruption, and
I\x92ll explain.  I\x92ll first discover the locale of this worthy colonel
--\x91Hydrabad Cottage\x92 he calls it; good, eh?--then I shall proceed to
make a tour of the immediate vicinity, and either be taken dangerously
ill in his grounds, within ten yards of the hall-door, or be thrown from
my gig at the gate of his avenue, and fracture my skull; I don\x92t much
care which.  Well, then, as I learn that the old gentleman is the most
kind, hospitable fellow in the world, he\x92ll admit me at once; his
daughter will tend my sick couch--nurse--read to me; glorious fun,
Harry.  I\x92ll make fierce love to her; and now, the only point to be
decided is whether, having partaken of the colonel\x92s hospitality so
freely, I ought to carry her off, or marry her with papa\x92s consent.
You see there is much to be said for either line of proceeding.\x94

\x93I certainly agree with you there; but since you seem to see your way so
clearly up to that point, why, I should advise you leaving that an \x91open
question,\x92 as the ministers say, when they are hard pressed for an
opinion.\x94

\x93Well, Harry, I consent; it shall remain so.  Now for your part, for I
have not come to that.\x94

\x93Mine,\x94 said I, in amazement; \x93why how can I possibly have any character
assigned to me in the drama?\x94

\x93I\x92ll tell you, Harry, you shall come with me in the gig in the capacity
of my valet.\x94

\x93Your what?\x94 said I, horror-struck at his impudence.

\x93Come, no nonsense, Harry, you\x92ll have a glorious time of it--shall
choose as becoming a livery as you like--and you\x92ll have the whole female
world below stairs dying for you; and all I ask for such an opportunity
vouchsafed to you is to puff me, your master, in every possible shape and
form, and represent me as the finest and most liberal fellow in the
world, rolling in wealth, and only striving to get rid of it.\x94

The unparalleled effrontery of Master Jack, in assigning to me such an
office, absolutely left me unable to reply to him; while he continued to
expatiate upon the great field for exertion thus open to us both.  At
last it occurred to me to benefit by an anecdote of a something similar
arrangement, of capturing, not a young lady, but a fortified town, by
retorting Jack\x92s proposition.

\x93Come,\x94 said I, \x93I agree, with one only difference--I\x92ll be the master
and you the man on this occasion.\x94

To my utter confusion, and without a second\x92s consideration, Waller
grasped my hand, and cried, \x93done.\x94  Of course I laughed heartily at the
utter absurdity of the whole scheme, and rallied my friend on his
prospects of Botany Bay for such an exploit; never contemplating in the
most remote degree the commission of such extravagance.

Upon this Jack, to use the expressive French phrase, \x93pris la parole,\x94
 touching with a master-like delicacy on my late defeat among the
Callonbys, (which up to this instant I believed him in ignorance of;)
he expatiated upon the prospect of my repairing that misfortune, and
obtaining a fortune considerably larger; he cautiously abstained from
mentioning the personal charms of the young lady, supposing, from my
lachrymose look, that my heart had not yet recovered the shock of Lady
Jane\x92s perfidy, and rather preferred to dwell upon the escape such a
marriage could open to me from the mockery of the mess-table, the jesting
of my brother officers, and the life-long raillery of the service,
wherever the story reached.

The fatal facility of my disposition, so often and so frankly chronicled
in these Confessions--the openness to be led whither any one might take
the trouble to conduct me--the easy indifference to assume any character
which might be pressed upon me, by chance, accident, or design, assisted
by my share of three flasks of champagne, induced me first to listen
--then to attend to--soon after to suggest--and finally, absolutely to
concur in and agree to a proposal, which, at any other moment, I must
have regarded as downright insanity.  As the clock struck two, I had just
affixed my name to an agreement, for Jack Waller had so much of method in
his madness, that, fearful of my retracting in the morning, he had
committed the whole to writing, which, as a specimen of Jack\x92s legal
talents I copy from the original document now in my posession.

     \x93The Plough, Cheltenham, Tuesday night or morning, two o\x92clock--be
     the same more or less.  I, Harry Lorrequer, sub. in his Majesty\x92s
     __th regiment of foot, on the one part; and I, John Waller, commonly
     called Jack Waller, of the __th light dragoons on the other; hereby
     promise and agree, each for himself, and not one for the other, to
     the following conditions, which are hereafter subjoined, to wit, the
     aforesaid Jack Waller is to serve, obey, and humbly follow the
     aforementioned Harry Lorrequer, for the space of one month of four
     weeks; conducting himself in all respects, modes, ways, manners, as
     his, the aforesaid Lorrequer\x92s own man, skip, valet, or saucepan
     --duly praising, puffing, and lauding the aforesaid Lorrequer, and in
     every way facilitating his success to the hand and fortune of--\x94

\x93Shall we put in her name, Harry, here?\x94 said Jack.

\x93I think not; we\x92ll fill it up in pencil; that looks very knowing.\x94

     \x93--at the end of which period, if successful in his suit, the
     aforesaid Harry Lorrequer is to render to the aforesaid Waller the
     sum of ten thousand pounds three and a half per cent. with a
     faithful discharge in writing for his services, as may be.  If, on
     the other hand, and which heaven forbid, the aforesaid Lorrequer
     fail in obtaining the hand of _____, that he will evacuate the
     territory within twelve hours, and repairing to a convenient spot
     selected by the aforesaid Waller, then and there duly invest himself
     with a livery chosen by the aforesaid Waller--\x94

\x93You know, each man uses his choice in this particular,\x94 said Jack.

     \x93--and for the space of four calendar weeks, be unto the aforesaid
     Waller, as his skip, or valet, receiving, in the event of success,
     the like compensation, as aforesaid, each promising strictly to
     maintain the terms of this agreement, and binding, by a solemn
     pledge, to divest himself of every right appertaining to his former
     condition, for the space of time there mentioned.\x94

We signed and sealed it formally, and finished another flask to its
perfect ratification.  This done, and after a hearty shake hands, we
parted and retired for the night.

The first thing I saw on waking the following morning was Jack Waller
standing beside my bed, evidently in excellent spirits with himself and
all the world.

\x93Harry, my boy, I have done it gloriously,\x94 said he.  \x93I only remembered
on parting with you last night, that one of the most marked features in
our old colonel\x92s character is a certain vague idea, he has somewhere
picked up, that he has been at some very remote period of his history a
most distinguished officer.  This notion, it appears, haunts his mind,
and he absolutely believes he has been in every engagement from the seven
years war, down to the Battle of Waterloo.  You cannot mention a siege he
did not lay down the first parallel for, nor a storming party where he
did not lead the forlorn hope; and there is not a regiment in the
service, from those that formed the fighting brigade of Picton, down to
the London trainbands, with which, to use his own phrase, he has not
fought and bled.  This mania of heroism is droll enough, when one
considers that the sphere of his action was necessarily so limited; but
yet we have every reason to be thankful for the peculiarity, as you\x92ll
say, when I inform you that this morning I despatched a hasty messenger
to his villa, with a most polite note, setting forth that a Mr.
Lorrequer--ay, Harry, all above board--there is nothing like it--\x91as Mr.
Lorrequer, of the __th, was collecting for publication, such materials as
might serve to commemorate the distinguished achievements of British
officers, who have, at any time, been in command--he most respectfully
requests an interview with Colonel Kamworth, whose distinguished
services, on many gallant occasions, have called forth the unqualified
approval of his majesty\x92s government.  Mr. Lorrequer\x92s stay is
necessarily limited to a few days, as he proceeds from this to visit Lord
Anglesey; and, therefore, would humbly suggest as early a meeting as may
suit Colonel K.\x92s convenience.\x92  What think you now?  Is this a
master-stroke or not?\x94

\x93Why, certainly, we are in for it now,\x94 said I, drawing a deep sigh.
\x93But Jack, what is all this?  Why, you\x92re in livery already.\x94

I now, for the first time, perceived that Waller was arrayed in a very
decorous suit of dark grey, with cord shorts and boots, and looked a very
knowing style of servant for the side of a tilbury.

\x93You like it, don\x92t you?  Well, I should have preferred something a
little more showy myself; but as you chose this last night, I, of course,
gave way, and after all, I believe you\x92re right, it certainly is neat.\x94

\x93Did I choose it last night?  I have not the slightest recollection of
it.\x94

\x93Yes, you were most particular about the length of the waistcoat, and the
height of the cockade, and you see I have followed your orders tolerably
close; and now, adieu to sweet equality for the season, and I am your
most obedient servant for four weeks--see that you make the most of it.\x94

While we were talking, the waiter entered with a note addressed to me,
which I rightly conjectured could only come from Colonel Kamworth.  It
ran thus--

     \x93Colonel Kamworth feels highly flattered by the polite attention of
     Mr. Lorrequer, and will esteem it a particular favour if Mr. L. can
     afford him the few days his stay in this part of the country will
     permit, by spending them at Hydrabad Cottage.  Any information as to
     Colonel Kamworth\x92s services in the four quarters of the globe, he
     need not say, is entirely at Mr. L.\x92s disposal.

     \x93Colonel K. dines at six precisely.\x94

When Waller had read the note through, he tossed his hat up in the air,
and, with something little sort of an Indian whoop, shouted out--

\x93The game is won already.  Harry, my man, give me the check for the ten
thousand: she is your own this minute.\x94

Without participating entirely in Waller\x92s exceeding delight, I could not
help feeling a growing interest in the part I was advertised to perform,
and began my rehearsal with more spirit than I thought I should have been
able to command.

That same evening, at the same hour as that in which on the preceding I
sat lone and comfortless by the coffee-room fire, I was seated opposite a
very pompous, respectable-looking old man, with a large, stiff queue of
white hair, who pressed me repeatedly to fill my glass and pass the
decanter.  The room was a small library, with handsomely fitted shelves;
there were but four chairs, but each would have made at least three of
any modern one; the curtains of deep crimson cloth effectually secured
the room from draught; and the cheerful wood fire blazing on the hearth,
which was the only light in the apartment, gave a most inviting look of
comfort and snugness to every thing.  This, thought I, is all excellent;
and however the adventure ends, this is certainly pleasant, and I never
tasted better Madeira.

\x93And so, Mr. Lorrequer, you heard of my affair at Cantantrabad, when I
took the Rajah prisoner?\x94

\x93Yes,\x94 said I; \x93the governor-general mentioned the gallant business the
very last time I dined at Government-House.\x94

\x93Ah, did he? kind of him though.  Well, sir, I received two millions of
rupees on the morning after, and a promise of ten more if I would permit
him to escape--but no--I refused flatly.\x94

\x93Is it possible; and what did you do with the two millions?--sent them,
of course--.\x94

\x93No, that I didn\x92t; the wretches know nothing of the use of money.  No,
no; I have them this moment in good government security.

\x93I believe I never mentioned to you the storming of Java.  Fill yourself
another glass, and I\x92ll describe it all to you, for it will be of
infinite consequence that a true narrative of this meets the public eye
--they really are quire ignorant of it.  Here now is Fort Cornelius, and
there is the moat, the sugar-basin is the citadel, and the tongs is the
first trench, the decanter will represent the tall tower towards the
south-west angle, and here, the wine glass--this is me.  Well, it was a
little after ten at night that I got the order from the general in
command to march upon this plate of figs, which was an open space before
Fort Cornelius, and to take up my position in front of the fort, and with
four pieces of field artillery--these walnuts here--to be ready to open
my fire at a moment\x92s warning upon the sou-west tower; but, my dear sir,
you have moved the tower; I thought you were drinking Madeira.  As I said
before, to open my fire upon the sou-west tower, or if necessary protect
the sugar tongs, which I explained to you was the trench.  Just at the
same time the besieged were making preparations for a sortie to occupy
this dish of almonds and raisins--the high ground to the left of my
position--put another log on the fire, if you please, sir, for I cannot
see myself--I thought I was up near the figs, and I find myself down near
the half moon.\x94

\x93It is past nine,\x94 said a servant entering the room; \x93shall I take the
carriage for Miss Kamworth, sir?\x94  This being the first time the name of
the young lady was mentioned since my arrival, I felt somewhat anxious to
hear more of her, in which laudable desire I was not however to be
gratified, for the colonel, feeling considerably annoyed by the
interruption, dismissed the servant by saying--

\x93What do you mean, sirrah, by coming in at this moment; don\x92t you see I
am preparing for the attack on the half moon?   Mr. Lorrequer, I beg your
pardon for one moment, this fellow has completely put me out; and
besides, I perceive, you have eaten the flying artillery, and in fact, my
dear sir, I shall be obliged to lay down the position again.\x94

With this praiseworthy interest the colonel proceeded to arrange the
\x93materiel\x94 of our dessert in battle array, when the door was suddenly
thrown open, and a very handsome girl, in a most becoming demi toilette,
sprung into the room, and either not noticing, or not caring, that a
stranger was present, threw herself into the old gentleman\x92s arms, with a
degree of empressement, exceedingly vexatious for any third and
unoccupied party to witness.

\x93Mary, my dear,\x94 said the colonel, completely forgetting Java and Fort
Cornelius at once, \x93you don\x92t perceive I have a gentleman to introduce to
you, Mr. Lorrequer, my daughter, Miss Kamworth,\x94 here the young lady
courtesied somewhat stiffly, and I bowed reverently; and we all resumed
places.  I now found out that Miss Kamworth had been spending the
preceding four or five days at a friend\x92s in the neighbourhood; and had
preferred coming home somewhat unexpectedly, to waiting for her own
carriage.

My confessions, if recorded verbatim, from the notes of that four weeks\x92
sojourn, would only increase the already too prolix and uninteresting
details of this chapter in my life; I need only say, that without falling
in love with Mary Kamworth, I felt prodigiously disposed thereto; she was
extremely pretty; had a foot and ancle to swear by, the most silvery
toned voice I almost ever heard, and a certain witchery and archness of
manner that by its very tantalizing uncertainty continually provoked
attention, and by suggesting a difficulty in the road to success,
imparted a more than common zest in the pursuit.  She was little, a very
little blue, rather a dabbler in the \x93ologies,\x94 than a real disciple.
Yet she made collections of minerals, and brown beetles, and
cryptogamias, and various other homeopathic doses of the creation,
infinitessimally small in their subdivision; in none of which I felt any
interest, save in the excuse they gave for accompanying her in her
pony-phaeton.  This was, however, a rare pleasure, for every morning for
at least three or four hours I was obliged to sit opposite the colonel,
engaged in the compilation of that narrative of his \x93res gestae,\x94 which
was to eclipse the career of Napoleon and leave Wellington\x92s laurels but
a very faded lustre in comparison.  In this agreeable occupation did I
pass the greater part of my day, listening to the insufferable prolixity
of the most prolix of colonels, and at times, notwithstanding the
propinquity of relationship which awaited us, almost regretting that he
was not blown up in any of the numerous explosions his memoir abounded
with.  I may here mention, that while my literary labour was thus
progressing, the young lady continued her avocations as before--not
indeed with me for her companion--but Waller; for Colonel Kamworth,
\x93having remarked the steadiness and propriety of my man, felt no scruple
in sending him out to drive Miss Kamworth,\x94 particularly as I gave him a
most excellent character for every virtue under heaven.

I must hasten on.--The last evening of my four weeks was drawing to a
close.  Colonel Kamworth had pressed me to prolong my visit, and I only
waited for Waller\x92s return from Cheltenham, whither I had sent him for my
letters, to make arrangements with him to absolve me from my ridiculous
bond, and accept the invitation.  We were sitting round the library fire,
the colonel, as usual, narrating his early deeds and hair-breadth
\x91scapes.  Mary, embroidering an indescribable something, which every
evening made its appearance but seemed never to advance, was rather in
better spirits than usual, at the same time her manner was nervous and
uncertain; and I could perceive by her frequent absence of mind, that her
thoughts were not as much occupied by the siege of Java as her worthy
father believed them.  Without laying any stress upon the circumstance,
I must yet avow that Waller\x92s not having returned from Cheltenham gave me
some uneasiness, and I more than once had recourse to the bell to demand
if \x93my servant had come back yet?\x94  At each of these times I well
remember the peculiar expression of Mary\x92s look, the half embarrassment,
half drollery, with which she listened to the question, and heard the
answer in the negative.  Supper at length made its appearance; and I
asked the servant who waited, \x93if my man had brought me any letters,\x94
 varying my inquiry to conceal my anxiety; and again, I heard he had not
returned.  Resolving now to propose in all form for Miss Kamworth the
next morning, and by referring the colonel to my uncle Sir Guy, smooth,
as far as I could, all difficulties, I wished them good night and
retired; not, however, before the colonel had warned me that they were to
have an excursion to some place in the neighbourhood the next day; and
begging that I might be in the breakfast-room at nine, as they were to
assemble there from all parts, and start early on the expedition.  I was
in a sound sleep the following morning, when a gentle tap at the door
awoke me; at the same time I recognised the voice of the colonel\x92s
servant, saying, \x93Mr. Lorrequer, breakfast is waiting, sir.\x94

I sprung up at once, and replying, \x93Very well, I shall come down,\x94
 proceeded to dress in all haste, but to my horror, I could not discern a
vestige of my clothes; nothing remained of the habiliments I possessed
only the day before--even my portmanteau had disappeared.  After a most
diligent search, I discovered on a chair in a corner of the room, a small
bundle tied up in a handkerchief, on opening which I perceived a new suit
of livery of the most gaudy and showy description and lace; of which
colour was also the coat, which had a standing collar and huge cuffs,
deeply ornamented with worked button holes and large buttons.  As I
turned the things over, without even a guess of what they could mean, for
I was scarcely well awake, I perceived a small slip of paper fastened to
the coat sleeve, upon which, in Waller\x92s hand-writing, the following few
words were written:

     \x93The livery I hope will fit you, as I am rather particular about how
     you\x92ll look; get quietly down to the stable-yard and drive the
     tilbury into Cheltenham, where wait for further orders from your
     kind master,

                              \x93John Waller.\x94

The horrible villany of this wild scamp actually paralysed me.  That I
should put on such ridiculous trumpery was out of the question; yet what
was to be done?  I rung the bell violently; \x93Where are my clothes,
Thomas?\x94

\x93Don\x92t know, sir; I was out all the morning, sir, and never seed them.\x94

\x93There, Thomas, be smart now and send them up, will you?\x94  Thomas
disappeared, and speedily returned to say, \x93that my clothes could not be
found any where; no one knew any thing of them, and begged me to come
down, as Miss Kamworth desired him to say that they were still waiting,
and she begged Mr. Lorrequer would not make an elaborate toilette, as
they were going on a country excursion.\x94  An elaborate toilette!  I wish
to heaven she saw my costume; no, I\x92ll never do it.  \x93Thomas, you must
tell the ladies and the colonel, too, that I feel very ill; I am not able
to leave my bed; I am subject to attacks--very violent attacks in my
head, and must always be left quiet and alone--perfectly alone--mind me,
Thomas--for a day at least.\x94  Thomas departed; and as I lay distracted in
my bed, I heard, from the breakfast room, the loud laughter of many
persons evidently enjoying some excellent joke; could it be me they were
laughing at; the thought was horrible.

\x93Colonel Kamworth wishes to know if you\x92d like the doctor, sir,\x94 said
Thomas, evidently suppressing a most inveterate fit of laughing, as he
again appeared at the door.

\x93No, certainly not,\x94 said I, in a voice of thunder; \x93what the devil are
you grinning at?\x94

\x93You may as well come, my man; you\x92re found out; they all know it now,\x94
 said the fellow with an odious grin.

I jumped out of the bed, and hurled the boot-jack at him with all my
strength; but had only the satisfaction to hear him go down stairs
chuckling at his escape; and as he reached the parlour, the increase of
mirth and the loudness of the laughter told me that he was not the only
one who was merry at my expense.  Any thing was preferable to this; down
stairs I resolved to go at once--but how; a blanket I thought would not
be a bad thing, and particularly as I had said I was ill; I could at
least get as far as Colonel Kamworth\x92s dressing-room, and explain to him
the whole affair; but then if I was detected en route, which I was almost
sure to be, with so many people parading about the house.  No; that would
never do, there was but one alternative, and dreadful, shocking as it
was, I could not avoid it, and with a heavy heart, and as much
indignation at Waller for what I could not but consider a most scurvy
trick, I donned the yellow inexpressibles; next came the vest, and last
the coat, with its broad flaps and lace excrescenses, fifty times more
absurd and merry-andrew than any stage servant who makes off with his
table and two chairs amid the hisses and gibes of an upper gallery.

If my costume leaned towards the ridiculous, I resolved that my air and
bearing should be more than usually austere and haughty; and with
something of the stride of John Kemble in Coriolanus, I was leaving my
bed-room, when I accidentally caught a view of myself in the glass; and
so mortified, so shocked was I, that I sank into a chair, and almost
abandoned my resolution to go on; the very gesture I had assumed for
vindication only increased the ridicule of my appearance; and the strange
quaintness of the costume totally obliterated every trace of any
characteristic of the wearer, so infernally cunning was its contrivance.
I don\x92t think that the most saturnine martyr of gout and dyspepsia could
survey me without laughing.  With a bold effort, I flung open my door,
hurried down the stairs, and reached the hall.  The first person I met
was a kind of pantry boy, a beast only lately emancipated from the
plough, and destined after a dozen years\x92 training as a servant, again to
be turned back to his old employ for incapacity; he grinned horribly for
a minute, as I passed, and then in a half whisper said--

\x93Maester, I advise ye run for it; they\x92re a waiting for ye with the
constables in the justice\x92s room!\x94  I gave him a look of contemptuous
superiority at which he grinned the more, and passed on.

Without stopping to consider where I was going, I opened the door of the
breakfast-parlour, and found myself in one plunge among a room full of
people.  My first impulse was to retreat again; but so shocked was I, at
the very first thing that met my sight, that I was perfectly powerless to
do any thing.  Among a considerable number of people who stood in small
groups round the breakfast-table, I discerned Jack Waller, habited in a
very accurate black frock and dark trowsers, supporting upon his arm
--shall I confess--no less a person than Mary Kamworth, who leaned on him
with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, and chatted gaily with him.
The buzz of conversation which filled the apartment when I entered,
ceased for a second of deep silence; and then followed a peal of laughter
so long and so vociferous, that in my momentary anger I prayed some one
might burst a blood-vessel, and frighten the rest.  I put on a look of
indescribable indignation, and cast a glance of what I intended should be
most withering scorn on the assembly; but alas! my infernal harlequin
costume ruined the effect; and confound me, if they did not laugh the
louder.  I turned from one to the other with the air of a man who marks
out victims for his future wrath; but with no better success; at last,
amid the continued mirth of the party, I made my way towards where Waller
stood absolutely suffocated with laughter, and scarcely able to stand
without support.

\x93Waller,\x94 said I, in a voice half tremulous with rage and shame together;
\x93Waller, if this rascally trick be yours, rest assured no former term of
intimacy between us shall--\x94

Before I could conclude the sentence, a bustle at the door of the room,
called every attention in that direction; I turned and beheld Colonel
Kamworth, followed by a strong posse comitatus of constables, tipstaffs,
&c., armed to the teeth, and evidently prepared for vigorous battle.
Before I was able to point out my woes to my kind host, he burst out
with--

\x93So you scoundrel, you impostor, you damned young villain, pretending to
be a gentleman, you get admission into a man\x92s house and dine at his
table, when your proper place had been behind his chair.--How far he
might have gone, heaven can tell, if that excellent young gentleman, his
master, had not traced him here this morning--but you\x92ll pay dearly for
it, you young rascal, that you shall.\x94

\x93Colonel Kamworth,\x94 said I, drawing myself proudly up, (and I confess
exciting new bursts of laughter,) \x93Colonel Kamworth, for the expressions
you have just applied to me, a heavy reckoning awaits you; not, however,
before another individual now present shall atone for the insult he has
dared to pass upon me.\x94  Colonel Kamworth\x92s passion at this declaration
knew no bounds; he cursed and swore absolutely like a madman, and vowed
that transportation for life would be a mild sentence for such iniquity.

Waller at length wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, interposed
between the colonel and his victim, and begged that I might be forgiven;
\x93for indeed my dear sir,\x94 said he, \x93the poor fellow is of rather
respectable parentage, and such is his taste for good society that he\x92d
run any risk to be among his betters, although, as in the present case
the exposure brings a rather heavy retribution, however, let me deal with
him.  Come, Henry,\x94 said he, with an air of insufferable superiority,
\x93take my tilbury into town, and wait for me at the George, I shall
endeavour to make your peace with my excellent friend, Colonel Kamworth;
and the best mode you can contribute to that object, is to let us have no
more of your society.\x94

I cannot attempt to picture my rage at these words; however, escape from
this diabolical predicament was my only present object; and I rushed from
the room, and springing into the tilbury at the door, drove down the
avenue at the rate of fifteen miles per hour, amid the united cheers,
groans, and yells of the whole servants\x92 hall, who seemed to enjoy my
\x93detection,\x94 even more than their betters.  Meditating vengeance, sharp,
short, and decisive on Waller, the colonel, and every one else in the
infernal conspiracy against me, for I utterly forgot every vestige of our
agreement in the surprise by which I was taken, I reached Cheltenham.
Unfortunately I had no friend there to whose management I could commit
the bearing of a message, and was obliged as soon as I could procure
suitable costume, to hasten up to Coventry where the __th dragoons were
then quartered.  I lost no time in selecting an adviser, and taking the
necessary steps to bring Master Waller to a reckoning; and on the third
morning we again reached Cheltenham, I thirsting for vengeance, and
bursting still with anger; not so, my friend, however, who never could
discuss the affair with common gravity, and even ventured every now and
then on a sly allusion to my yellow shorts.  As we passed the last
toll-bar, a travelling carriage came whirling by with four horses at a
tremendous pace; and as the morning was frosty, and the sun scarcely
risen, the whole team were smoking and steaming so as to be half
invisible.  We both remarked on the precipitancy of the party; for as our
own pace was considerable, the two vehicles passed like lightning.  We
had scarcely dressed, and ordered breakfast, when a more than usual
bustle in the yard called us to the window; the waiter who came in at the
same instant told us that four horses were ordered out to pursue a young
lady who had eloped that morning with an officer.

\x93Ah, our friend in the green travelling chariot, I\x92ll be bound,\x94 said my
companion; but as neither of us knew that part of the country, and I was
too engrossed by my own thoughts, I never inquired further.  As the
chaise in chase drove round to the door, I looked to see what the pursuer
was like; and as he issued from the inn, recognised my \x93ci devant host,\x94
 Colonel Kamworth.  I need not say my vengeance was sated at once; he had
lost his daughter, and Waller was on the road to be married.  Apologies
and explanations came in due time, for all my injuuries and sufferings;
and I confess, the part which pleased me most was, that I saw no more of
Jack for a considerable period after; he started for the continent,
where he has lived ever since on a small allowance, granted by his
father-in-law, and never paying me the stipulated sum, as I had clearly
broken the compact.

So much for my second attempt at matrimony; one would suppose that such
experience should be deemed sufficient to show that my talent did not lie
in that way.  And here I must rest for the present, with the additional
confession, that so strong was the memory of that vile adventure, that I
refused a lucrative appointment under Lord Anglesey\x92s government, when I
discovered that his livery included \x93yellow plush breeches;\x94 to have such
\x93souvenirs\x94 flitting around and about me, at dinner and elsewhere, would
have left me without a pleasure in existence.



CHAPTER XII.

DUBLIN--TOM O\x92FLAHERTY--A REMINISCENCE OF THE PENINSULA.

Dear, dirty Dublin--\x93Io te salute\x94--how many excellent things might be
said of thee, if, unfortunately, it did not happen that the theme is an
old one, and has been much better sung than it can ever now be said.
With thus much of apology for no more lengthened panegyric, let me beg of
my reader, if he be conversant with that most moving melody--the Groves
of Blarney--to hum the following lines, which I heard shortly after my
landing, and which well express my own feelings for the \x93loved spot.\x94

               Oh! Dublin, sure, there is no doubtin\x92,
                Beats every city upon the say.
               \x91Tis there you\x92ll see O\x92Connell spouting,
                And Lady Morgan making \x93tay.\x94
                For \x91tis the capital of the greatest nation
                With finest peasantry on a fruitful sod,
               Fighting like devils for conciliation,
                And hating each other for the love of God.

Once more, then, I found myself in the \x93most car-drivingest city,\x94 en
route to join on the expiration of my leave.  Since my departure, my
regiment had been ordered to Kilkenny, that sweet city, so famed in song
for its \x93fire without smoke;\x94 but which, were its character in any way to
be derived from its past or present representative, might certainly, with
more propriety, reverse the epithet, and read \x93smoke without fire.\x94  My
last communication from head-quarters was full of nothing but gay doings
--balls, dinners, dejeunes, and more than all, private theatricals,
seemed to occupy the entire attention of every man of the gallant __th.
I was earnestly entreated to come, without waiting for the end of my
leave--that several of my old \x93parts were kept open for me;\x94 and that, in
fact, the \x93boys of Kilkenny\x94 were on tip-toe in expectation of my
arrival, as though his Majesty\x92s mail were to convey a Kean or a Kemble.
I shuddered a little as I read this, and recollected \x93my last appearance
on any stage,\x94 little anticipating, at the moment, that my next was to be
nearly as productive of the ludicrous, as time and my confessions will
show.  One circumstance, however, gave me considerable pleasure.  It was
this:--I took it for granted that, in the varied and agreeable
occupations which so pleasurable a career opened, my adventures in love
would escape notice, and that I should avoid the merciless raillery my
two failures, in six months, might reasonably be supposed to call forth.
I therefore wrote a hurried note to Curzon, setting forth the great
interest all their proceedings had for me, and assuring him that my stay
in town should be as short as possible, for that I longed once more to
\x93strut the monarch of the boards,\x94 and concluded with a sly paragraph,
artfully intended to act as a \x93paratonnere\x94 to the gibes and jests which
I dreaded, by endeavouring to make light of my matrimonial speculations.
The postscript ran somewhat thus--\x93Glorious fun have I had since we met;
but were it not that my good angel stood by me, I should write these
hurried lines with a wife at my elbow; but luck, that never yet deserted,
is still faithful to your old friend, H. Lorrequer.\x94

My reader may suppose--for he is sufficiently behind the scenes with me
--with what feelings I penned these words; yet any thing was better than
the attack I looked forward to: and I should rather have changed into the
Cape Rifle Corps, or any other army of martyrs, than meet my mess with
all the ridicule my late proceedings exposed me to.  Having disburthened
my conscience of this dread, I finished my breakfast, and set out on a
stroll through the town.

I believe it is Coleridge who somewhere says, that to transmit the first
bright and early impressions of our youth, fresh and uninjured to a
remote period of life, constitutes one of the loftiest prerogatives of
genius.  If this be true, and I am not disposed to dispute it--what a
gifted people must be the worthy inhabitants of Dublin; for I scruple not
to affirm, that of all cities of which we have any record in history,
sacred or profane, there is not one so little likely to disturb the
tranquil current of such reminiscences.  \x93As it was of old, so is it
now,\x94 enjoying a delightful permanency in all its habits and customs,
which no changes elsewhere disturb or affect; and in this respect I defy
O\x92Connell and all the tail to refuse it the epithet of \x93Conservative.\x94

Had the excellent Rip Van Winkle, instead of seeking his repose upon the
cold and barren acclivities of the Kaatskills--as we are veritably
informed by Irving--but betaken himself to a comfortable bed at
Morrison\x92s or the Bilton, not only would he have enjoyed a more agreeable
siesta, but, what the event showed of more consequence, the pleasing
satisfaction of not being disconcerted by novelty on his awakening.  It
is possible that the waiter who brought him the water to shave, for Rip\x92s
beard, we are told, had grown uncommonly long--might exhibit a little of
that wear and tear to which humanity is liable from time; but had he
questioned him as to the ruling topics--the proper amusements of the day
--he would have heard, as he might have done twenty years before, that
there was a meeting to convert Jews at the Rotunda; another to rob
parsons at the Corn Exchange; that the Viceroy was dining with the
Corporation, and congratulating them on the prosperity of Ireland, while
the inhabitants were regaled with a procession of the \x93broad ribbon
weavers,\x94 who had not weaved, heaven knows when!  This, with an
occasional letter from Mr. O\x92Connell, and now and then a duel in the
\x93Phaynix,\x94 constituted the current pastimes of the city.  Such, at least,
were they in my day; and though far from the dear locale, an odd flitting
glance at the newspapers induces me to believe that matters are not much
changed since.

I rambled through the streets for some hours, revolving such thoughts as
pressed upon me involuntarily by all I saw.  The same little grey
homunculus that filled my \x93prince\x92s mixture\x94 years before, stood behind
the counter at Lundy Foot\x92s, weighing out rappee and high toast, just as
I last saw him.  The fat college porter, that I used to mistake in my
school-boy days for the Provost, God forgive me! was there as fat and as
ruddy as heretofore, and wore his Roman costume of helmet and plush
breeches, with an air as classic.  The old state trumpeter at the castle,
another object of my youthful veneration, poor \x93old God save the King\x94 as
we used to call him, walked the streets as of old; his cheeks indeed, a
little more lanky and tendinous; but then there had been many viceregal
changes, and the \x93one sole melody his heart delighted in,\x94 had been more
frequently called in requisition, as he marched in solemn state with the
other antique gentlemen in tabards.  As I walked along, each moment some
old and early association being suggested by the objects around, I felt
my arm suddenly seized.  I turned hastily round, and beheld a very old
companion in many a hard-fought field and merry bivouack, Tom O\x92Flaherty
of the 8th.  Poor Tom was sadly changed since we last met, which was at
a ball in Madrid.  He was then one of the best-looking fellows of his
\x93style\x94 I ever met,--tall and athletic, with the easy bearing of a man of
the world, and a certain jauntiness that I have never seen but in
Irishmen who have mixed much in society.

There was also a certain peculiar devil-may-care recklessness about the
self-satisfied swagger of his gait, and the free and easy glance of his
sharp black eye, united with a temper that nothing could ruffle, and a
courage nothing could daunt.  With such qualities as these, he had been
the prime favourite of his mess, to which he never came without some
droll story to relate, or some choice expedient for future amusement.
Such had Tom once been; now he was much altered, and though the quiet
twinkle of his dark eye showed that the spirit of fun within was not
\x93dead, but only sleeping,\x94--to myself, who knew something of his history,
it seemed almost cruel to awaken him to any thing which might bring him
back to the memory of by-gone days.  A momentary glance showed me that he
was no longer what he had been, and that the unfortunate change in his
condition, the loss of all his earliest and oldest associates, and his
blighted prospects, had nearly broken a heart that never deserted a
friend, nor quailed before an enemy.  Poor O\x92Flaherty was no more the
delight of the circle he once adorned; the wit that \x93set the table in a
roar\x94 was all but departed.  He had been dismissed the service!!--The
story is a brief one:--

In the retreat from Burgos, the __ Light Dragoons, after a most fatiguing
day\x92s march, halted at the wretched village of Cabenas.  It had been
deserted by the inhabitants the day before, who, on leaving, had set it
on fire; and the blackened walls and fallen roof-trees were nearly all
that now remained to show where the little hamlet had once stood.

Amid a down-pour of rain, that had fallen for several hours, drenched to
the skin, cold, weary, and nearly starving, the gallant 8th reached this
melancholy spot at nightfall, with little better prospect of protection
from the storm than the barren heath through which their road led might
afford them.  Among the many who muttered curses, not loud but deep, on
the wretched termination to their day\x92s suffering, there was one who kept
up his usual good spirits, and not only seemed himself nearly regardless
of the privations and miseries about him, but actually succeeded in
making the others who rode alongside as perfectly forgetful of their
annoyances and troubles as was possible under such circumstances.  Good
stories, joking allusions to the more discontented ones of the party,
ridiculous plans for the night\x92s encampment, followed each other so
rapidly, that the weariness of the way was forgotten; and while some were
cursing their hard fate, that ever betrayed them into such misfortunes,
the little group round O\x92Flaherty were almost convulsed with laughter at
the wit and drollery of one, over whom if the circumstances had any
influence, they seemed only to heighten his passion for amusement.  In
the early part of the morning he had captured a turkey, which hung
gracefully from his holster on one side, while a small goat-skin of
Valencia wine balanced it on the other.  These good things were destined
to form a feast that evening, to which he had invited four others; that
being, according to his most liberal calculation, the greatest number to
whom he could afford a reasonable supply of wine.

When the halt was made, it took some time to arrange the dispositions for
the night; and it was nearly midnight before all the regiment had got
their billets and were housed, even with such scanty accommodation as the
place afforded.  Tom\x92s guests had not yet arrived, and he himself was
busily engaged in roasting the turkey before a large fire, on which stood
a capacious vessel of spiced wine, when the party appeared.  A very
cursory \x93reconnaissance\x94 through the house, one of the only ones
untouched in the village, showed that from the late rain it would be
impossible to think of sleeping in the lower story, which already showed
signs of being flooded; they therefore proceeded in a body up stairs, and
what was their delight to find a most comfortable room, neatly furnished
with chairs, and a table; but, above all, a large old-fashioned bed, an
object of such luxury as only an old campaigner can duly appreciate.  The
curtains were closely tucked in all round, and, in their fleeting and
hurried glance, they felt no inclination to disturb them, and rather
proceeded to draw up the table before the hearth, to which they speedily
removed the fire from below; and, ere many minutes, with that activity
which a bivouack life invariably teaches, their supper smoked before
them, and five happier fellows did not sit down that night within a large
circuit around.  Tom was unusually great; stories of drollery unlocked
before, poured from him unceasingly, and what with his high spirits to
excite them, and the reaction inevitable after a hard day\x92s severe march,
the party soon lost the little reason that usually sufficed to guide
them, and became as pleasantly tipsy as can well be conceived.  However,
all good things must have an end, and so had the wine-skin.  Tom had
placed it affectionately under his arm like a bag-pipe and failed, with
even a most energetic squeeze, to extract a drop; there was no nothing
for it but to go to rest, and indeed it seemed the most prudent thing for
the party.

The bed became accordingly a subject of grave deliberation; for as it
could only hold two, and the party were five, there seemed some
difficulty in submitting their chances to lot, which all agreed was the
fairest way.  While this was under discussion, one of the party had
approached the contested prize, and, taking up the curtains, proceeded to
jump in--when, what was his astonishment to discover that it was already
occupied.  The exclamation of surprise he gave forth soon brought the
others to his side; and to their horror, drunk as they were, they found
that the body before them was that of a dead man, arrayed in all the
ghastly pomp of a corpse.  A little nearer inspection showed that he had
been a priest, probably the Padre of the village; on his head he had a
small velvet skull cap, embroidered with a cross, and his body was
swathed in a vestment, such as priests usually wear at the mass; in his
hand he held a large wax taper, which appeared to have burned only half
down, and probably been extinguished by the current of air on opening
the door. After the first brief shock which this sudden apparition had
caused, the party recovered as much of their senses as the wine had
left them, and proceeded to discuss what was to be done under the
circumstances; for not one of them ever contemplated giving up a bed
to a dead priest, while five living men slept on the ground.  After much
altercation, O\x92Flaherty, who had hitherto listened without speaking,
interrupted the contending parties, saying, \x93stop, lads, I have it.\x94

\x93Come,\x94 said one of them, \x93let us hear Tom\x92s proposal.\x94

\x93Oh,\x94 said he, with difficulty steadying himself while he spoke, \x93we\x92ll
put him to bed with old Ridgeway, the quarter-master!\x94

The roar of loud laughter that followed Tom\x92s device was renewed again
and again, till not a man could speak from absolute fatigue.  There was
not a dissentient voice.  Old Ridgeway was hated in the corps, and a
better way of disposing of the priest and paying off the quarter-master
could not be thought of.

Very little time sufficed for their preparations; and if they had been
brought up under the Duke of Portland himself, they could not have
exhibited a greater taste for a \x93black job.\x94  The door of the room was
quickly taken from its hinges, and the priest placed upon it at full
length; a moment more sufficed to lift the door upon their shoulders,
and, preceded by Tom, who lit a candle in honour of being, as he said,
\x93chief mourner,\x94 they took their way through the camp towards Ridgeway\x92s
quarters.  When they reached the hut where their victim lay, Tom ordered
a halt, and proceeded stealthily into the house to reconnoitre.  The old
quarter-master he found stretched on his sheep-skin before a large fire,
the remnants of an ample supper strewed about him, and two empty bottles
standing on the hearth--his deep snoring showed that all was safe, and
that no fears of his awaking need disturb them.  His shako and sword lay
near him, but his sabertasche was under his head.  Tom carefully withdrew
the two former; and hastening to his friends without, proceeded to
decorate the priest with them; expressing, at the same time, considerable
regret that he feared it might wake Ridgeway, if he were to put the
velvet skull-cap on him for a night-cap.

Noiselessly and steadily they now entered, and proceeded to put down
their burden, which, after a moment\x92s discussion, they agreed to place
between the quarter-master and the fire, of which, hitherto, he had
reaped ample benefit.  This done, they stealthily retreated, and hurried
back to their quarters, unable to speak with laughter at the success of
their plot, and their anticipation of Ridgeway\x92s rage on awakening in the
morning.

It was in the dim twilight of a hazy morning, that the bugler of the 8th
aroused the sleeping soldiers from their miserable couches, which,
wretched as they were, they, nevertheless, rose from reluctantly--so
wearied and fatigued had they been by the preceding day\x92s march; not one
among the number felt so indisposed to stir as the worthy quarter-master;
his peculiar avocations had demanded a more than usual exertion on his
part, and in the posture he had laid down at night, he rested till
morning, without stirring a limb.  Twice the reveille had rung through
the little encampment, and twice the quarter-master had essayed to open
his eyes, but in vain; at last he made a tremendous effort, and sat bolt
upright on the floor, hoping that the sudden effort might sufficiently
arouse him; slowly his eyes opened, and the first thing they beheld was
the figure of the dead priest, with a light cavalry helmet on his head,
seated before him.  Ridgeway, who was \x93bon Catholique,\x94 trembled in every
joint--it might be a ghost, it might be a warning, he knew not what to
think--he imagined the lips moved, and so overcome with terror was he at
last, that he absolutely shouted like a maniac, and never cased till the
hut was filled with officers and men, who hearing the uproar ran to his
aid--the surprise of the poor quarter-master at the apparition, was
scarcely greater than that of the beholders--no one was able to afford
any explanation of the circumstance, though all were assured that it must
have been done in jest--the door upon which the priest had been conveyed,
afforded the clue--they had forgotten to restore it to its place
--accordingly the different billets were examined, and at last O\x92Flaherty
was discovered in a most commodious bed, in a large room without a door,
still fast asleep, and alone; how and when he had parted from his
companions, he never could precisely explain, though he has since
confessed it was part of his scheme to lead them astray in the village,
and then retire to the bed, which he had determined to appropriate to his
sole use.

Old Ridgeway\x92s rage knew no bounds; he absolutely foamed with passion,
and in proportion as he was laughed at his choler rose higher; had this
been the only result, it had been well for poor Tom, but unfortunately
the affair got to be rumoured through the country--the inhabitants of the
village learned the indignity with which the Padre had been treated; they
addressed a memorial to Lord Wellington--inquiry was immediately
instituted--O\x92Flaherty was tried by court martial, and found guilty;
nothing short of the heaviest punishment that could be inflicted under
the circumstances would satisfy the Spaniards, and at that precise period
it was part of our policy to conciliate their esteem by every means in
our power.  The commander-in-chief resolved to make what he called an
\x93example,\x94 and poor O\x92Flaherty--the life and soul of his regiment--the
darling of his mess, was broke, and pronounced incapable of ever serving
his Majesty again.  Such was the event upon which my poor friend\x92s
fortune in life seemed to hinge--he returned to Ireland, if not entirely
broken-hearted, so altered that his best friends scarcely knew him; his
\x93occupation was gone;\x94 the mess had been his home; his brother officers
were to him in place of relatives, and he had lost all.  His after life
was spent in rambling from one watering place to another, more with the
air of one who seeks to consume than enjoy his time; and with such a
change in appearance as the alteration in his fortune had effected, he
now stood before me, but altogether so different a man, that but for the
well-known tones of a voice that had often convulsed me with laughter, I
should scarcely have recognised him.

\x93Lorrequer, my old friend, I never thought of seeing you here--this is
indeed a piece of good luck.\x94

\x93Why, Tom?  You surely knew that the __ were in Ireland, didn\x92t you?\x94

\x93To be sure.  I dined with them only a few days ago, but they told me you
were off to Paris, to marry something superlatively beautiful, and most
enormously rich, the daughter of a duke, if I remember right; but certes,
they said your fortune was made, and I need not tell you, there was not a
man among them better pleased that I was to hear it.\x94

\x93Oh! they said so, did they?  Droll dogs--always quizzing--I wonder you
did not perceive the hoax--eh--very good, was it not?\x94  This I poured out
in short broken sentences, blushing like scarlet, and fidgeting like a
school girl with downright nervousness.

\x93A hoax!  devilish well done too,\x94--said Tom, \x93for old Carden believed
the whole story, and told me that he had obtained a six months\x92 leave for
you to make your \x91com.\x92 and, moreover, said that he had got a letter from
the nobleman, Lord _____ confound his name.\x94

\x93Lord Grey, is it?\x94 said I, with a sly look at Tom.

\x93No, my dear friend,\x94 said he drily, \x93it was not Lord Grey--but to
continue--he had got a letter from him, dated from Paris, stating his
surprise that you had never joined them there, according to promise, and
that they knew your cousin Guy, and a great deal of other matter I can\x92t
remember--so what does all this mean?  Did you hoax the noble Lord as
well as the Horse Guards, Harry?\x94

This was indeed a piece of news for me; I stammered out some ridiculous
explanation, and promised a fuller detail.  Could it be that I had done
the Callonbys injustice, and that they never intended to break off my
attention to Lady Jane--that she was still faithful, and that of all
concerned I alone had been to blame.  Oh! how I hoped this might be the
case; heavily as my conscience might accuse, I longed ardently to forgive
and deal mercifully with myself.  Tom continued to talk about indifferent
matters, as these thoughts flitted through my mind; perceiving at last
that I did not attend, he stopped suddenly and said--

\x93Harry, I see clearly that something has gone wrong, and perhaps I can
make a guess at the mode too: but however, you can do nothing about it
now; come and dine with me to-day, and we\x92ll discuss the affair together
after dinner; or if you prefer a \x91distraction,\x92 as we used to say in
Dunkerque, why then I\x92ll arrange something fashionable for your evening\x92s
amusement.  Come, what say you to hearing Father Keogh preach, or would
you like a supper at the Carlingford, or perhaps you prefer a soiree chez
Miladi; for all of these Dublin affords--all three good in their way, and
very intellectual.\x94

\x93Well, Tom, I\x92m yours; but I should prefer your dining with me; I am at
Bilton\x92s; we\x92ll have our cutlet quite alone, and--\x94

\x93And be heartily sick of each other, you were going to add.  No, no,
Harry; you must dine with me; I have some remarkably nice people to
present you to--six is the hour--sharp six--number ___ Molesworth-street,
Mrs. Clanfrizzle\x92s--easily find it--large fanlight over the door--huge
lamp in the hall, and a strong odour of mutton broth for thirty yards on
each side of the premises--and as good luck would have it, I see old Daly
the counsellor, as they call him, he\x92s the very man to get to meet you,
you always liked a character, eh!\x94

Saying this, O\x92Flaherty disengaged himself from my arm, and hurried
across the street towards a portly middle-aged looking gentleman, with
the reddest face I ever beheld.  After a brief but very animated
colloquy, Tom returned, and informed that that all was right; he had
secured Daly.

\x93And who is Daly?\x94 said I, inquiringly, for I was rather interested in
hearing what peculiar qualification as a diner-out the counsellor might
lay claim to, many of Tom\x92s friends being as remarkable for being the
quizzed as the quizzers.

\x93Daly,\x94 said he, \x93is the brother of a most distinguished member of the
Irish bar, of which he himself is also a follower, bearing however, no
other resemblance to the clever man than the name, for as assuredly as
the reputation of the one is inseparably linked with success, so
unerringly is the other coupled with failure, and strange to say, that
the stupid man is fairly convinced that his brother owes all his success
to him, and that to his disinterested kindness the other is indebted for
his present exalted station.  Thus it is through life; there seems ever
to accompany dullness a sustaining power of vanity, that like a
life-buoy, keeps a mass afloat whose weight unassisted would sink into
obscurity.  Do you know that my friend Denis there imagines himself the
first man that ever enlightened Sir Robert Peel as to Irish affairs; and,
upon my word, his reputation on this head stands incontestably higher
than on most others.\x94

\x93You surely cannot mean that Sir Robert Peel ever consulted with, much
less relied upon, the statements of such a person, as you described you
friend Denis to be?\x94

\x93He did both--and if he was a little puzzled by the information,
the only disgrace attaches to a government that send men to rule over
us unacquainted with our habits of thinking, and utterly ignorant of the
language--ay, I repeat it--but come, you shall judge for yourself; the
story is a short one, and fortunately so, for I must hasten home to give
timely notice of your coming to dine with me.  When the present Sir
Robert Peel, then Mr. Peel, came over here, as secretary to Ireland,
a very distinguished political leader of the day invited a party to meet
him at dinner, consisting of men of different political leanings; among
whom were, as may be supposed, many members of the Irish bar; the elder
Daly was too remarkable a person to be omitted, but as the two brothers
resided together, there was a difficulty about getting him--however, he
must be had, and the only alternative that presented itself was adopted
--both were invited.  When the party descended to the dining-room,
by one of those unfortunate accidents, which as the proverb informs us
occasionally take place in the best regulated establishments, the wrong
Mr. Daly got placed beside Mr. Peel, which post of honor had been
destined by the host for the more agreeable and talented brother.
There was now no help for it; and with a heart somewhat nervous for the
consequences of the proximity, the worthy entertainer sat down to do the
honors as best he might; he was consoled during dinner by observing
that the devotion bestowed by honest Denis on the viands before him
effectually absorbed his faculties, and thereby threw the entire of
Mr. Peel\x92s conversation towards the gentleman on his other flank.
This happiness was like most others, destined to be a brief one.
As the dessert made its appearance, Mr. Peel began to listen with some
attention to the conversation of the persons opposite; with one of whom
he was struck most forcibly--so happy a power of illustration, so vivid a
fancy, such logical precision in argument as he evinced, perfectly
charmed and surprised him.  Anxious to learn the name of so gifted an
individual, he turned towards his hitherto silent neighbour and demanded
who he was.

\x93\x91Who is he, is it?\x92 said Denis, hesitatingly, as if he half doubted such
extent of ignorance as not to know the person alluded to.

\x93Mr. Peel bowed in acquiescence.

\x93\x91That\x92s Bushe!\x92 said Denis, giving at the same time the same sound to
the vowel, u, as it obtains when occurring in the word \x91rush.\x92

\x93\x91I beg pardon,\x92 said Mr. Peel, \x91I did not hear.\x92

\x93\x91Bushe!\x92 replied Denis, with considerable energy of tone.

\x93\x91Oh, yes! I know,\x92 said the secretary, \x91Mr. Bushe, a very distinguished
member of your bar, I have heard.\x92

\x93\x91Faith, you may say that!\x92 said Denis, tossing off his wine at what he
esteemed a very trite observation.

\x93\x91Pray,\x92 said Mr. Peel, again returning to the charge, though certainly
feeling not a little surprised at the singular laconicism of his
informant, no less than the mellifluous tones of an accent then perfectly
new to him.  \x91Pray, may I ask, what is the peculiar character of Mr.
Bushe\x92s eloquence?  I mean of course, in his professional capacity.\x92

\x93\x91Eh!\x92 said Denis, \x91I don\x92t comprehend you exactly.\x92

\x93\x91I mean,\x92 said Mr. Peel, \x91in one word, what\x92s his forte?\x92

\x93\x91His forte!\x92

\x93\x91I mean what his peculiar gift consists in--\x92

\x93\x91Oh, I perceave--I have ye now--the juries!\x92

\x93\x91Ah! addressing a jury.\x92

\x93\x91Ay, the juries.\x92

\x93\x91Can you oblige me by giving me any idea of the manner in which he
obtains such signal success in this difficult branch of eloquence.\x92

\x93\x91I\x92ll tell ye,\x92 said Denis, leisurely finishing his glass, and smacking
his lips, with the air of a man girding up his loins for a mighty effort,
\x91I\x92ll tell ye--well, ye see the way he has is this,\x92--here Mr. Peel\x92s
expectation rose to the highest degree of interest,--\x91the way he has is
this--he first butthers them up, and then slithers them down! that\x92s all,
devil a more of a secret there\x92s in it.\x92\x94

How much reason Denis had to boast of imparting early information to the
new secretary I leave my English readers to guess; my Irish ones I may
trust to do him ample justice.

My friend now left me to my own devices to while away the hours till time
to dress for dinner.  Heaven help the gentleman so left in Dublin, say I.
It is, perhaps, the only city of its size in the world, where there is no
lounge--no promenade.  Very little experience of it will convince you
that it abounds in pretty women, and has its fair share of agreeable men;
but where are they in the morning?  I wish Sir Dick Lauder, instead of
speculating where salmon spent the Christmas holidays, would apply his
most inquiring mind to such a question as this.  True it is, however,
they are not to be found.  The squares are deserted--the streets are very
nearly so--and all that is left to the luckless wanderer in search of the
beautiful, is to ogle the beauties of Dame-street, who are shopkeepers in
Grafton-street, or the beauties of Grafton-street, who are shopkeepers in
Dame-street.  But, confound it, how cranky I am getting--I must be
tremendously hungry.  True, it\x92s past six.  So now for my suit of sable,
and then to dinner.



CHAPTER XIII

DUBLIN--THE BOARDING-HOUSE--SELECT SOCIETY.

Punctual to my appointment with O\x92Flaherty, I found myself a very few
minutes after six o\x92clock at Mrs. Clanfrizzle\x92s door.  My very
authoritative summons at the bell was answered by the appearance of a
young, pale-faced invalid, in a suit of livery the taste of which bore a
very unpleasant resemblance to the one I so lately figured in.  It was
with considerable difficulty I persuaded this functionary to permit my
carrying my hat with me to the drawing-room, a species of caution on my
part--as he esteemed it--savouring much of distrust.  This point however,
I carried, and followed him up a very ill-lighted stair to the
drawing-room; here I was announced by some faint resemblance to my real
name, but sufficiently near to bring my friend Tom at once to meet me,
who immediately congratulated me on my fortune in coming off so well,
for that the person who preceded me, Mr. Jones Blennerhasset, had been
just announced as Mr. Blatherhasit--a change the gentleman himself was
not disposed to adopt--\x93But come along, Harry, while we are waiting for
Daly, let me make you known to some of our party; this, you must know,
is a boarding-house, and always has some capital fun--queerest people
you ever met--I have only one hint--cut every man, woman, and child of
them, if you meet them hereafter--I do it myself, though I have lived
here these six months.\x94  Pleasant people, thought I, these must be, with
whom such a line is advisable, much less practicable.

\x93Mrs. Clanfrizzle, my friend Mr. Lorrequer; thinks he\x92ll stay the summer
in town.  Mrs. Clan--, should like him to be one of us.\x94  This latter was
said sotto voce, and was a practice he continued to adopt in presenting
me to his several friends through the room.

Miss Riley, a horrid old fright, in a bird of paradise plume, and corked
eyebrows, gibbetted in gilt chains and pearl ornaments, and looking as
the grisettes say, \x93superbe en chrysolite\x94--\x93Miss Riley, Captain
Lorrequer, a friend I have long desired to present to you--fifteen
thousand a-year and a baronetcy, if he has sixpence\x94--sotto again.
\x93Surgeon M\x92Culloch--he likes the title,\x94 said Tom in a whisper--\x93Surgeon,
Captain Lorrequer.  By the by, lest I forget it, he wishes to speak to
you in the morning about his health; he is stopping at Sandymount for the
baths; you could go out there, eh!\x94  The tall thing in green spectacles
bowed, and acknowledged Tom\x92s kindness by a knowing touch of the elbow.
In this way he made the tour of the room for about ten minutes, during
which brief space, I was according to the kind arrangements of
O\x92Flaherty, booked as a resident in the boarding-house--a lover to at
least five elderly, and three young ladies--a patient--a client--a second
in a duel to a clerk in the post-office--and had also volunteered
(through him always) to convey, by all of his Majesty\x92s mails, as many
parcels, packets, band-boxes, and bird-cages, as would have comfortably
filled one of Pickford\x92s vans.  All this he told me was requisite to my
being well received, though no one thought much of any breach of compact
subsequently, except Mrs. Clan--herself.  The ladies had, alas! been
often treated vilely before; the doctor had never had a patient; and as
for the belligerent knight of the dead office, he\x92d rather die than fight
any day.

The last person to whom my friend deemed it necessary to introduce me,
was a Mr. Garret Cudmore, from the Reeks of Kerry, lately matriculated to
all the honors of freshmanship in the Dublin university.  This latter was
a low-sized, dark-browed man, with round shoulders, and particularly long
arms, the disposal of which seemed sadly to distress him.  He possessed
the most perfect brogue I ever listened to; but it was difficult to get
him to speak, for on coming up to town some weeks before, he had been
placed by some intelligent friend at Mrs. Clanfrizzle\x92s establishment,
with the express direction to mark and thoroughly digest as much as he
could of the habits and customs of the circle about him, which he was
rightly informed was the very focus of good breeding and haut ton; but
on no account, unless driven thereto by the pressure of sickness,
or the wants of nature, to trust himself with speech, which, in his
then uninformed state, he was assured would inevitably ruin him
among his fastidiously cultivated associates.

To the letter and the spirit of the despatch he had received, the worthy
Garret acted rigidly, and his voice was scarcely ever known to transgress
the narrow limits prescribed by his friends.  In more respects that one,
was this a good resolve; for so completely had he identified himself with
college habits, things, and phrases, that whenever he conversed, he
became little short of unintelligible to the vulgar--a difficulty not
decreased by his peculiar pronunciation.

My round of presentation was just completed, when the pale figure in
light blue livery announced Counsellor Daly and dinner, for both came
fortunately together.  Taking the post of honour, Miss Riley\x92s arm, I
followed Tom, who I soon perceived ruled the whole concern, as he led
the way with another ancient vestal in black satin and bugles.  The long
procession wound its snake-like length down the narrow stair, and into
the dining-room, where at last we all got seated; and here let me briefly
vindicate the motives of my friend--should any unkind person be found to
impute to his selection of a residence, any base and grovelling passion
for gourmandaise, that day\x92s experience should be an eternal vindication
of him.  The soup--alas! that I should so far prostitute the word; for
the black broth of Sparta was mock turtle in comparison--retired to make
way for a mass of beef, whose tenderness I did not question; for it sank
beneath the knife of the carver like a feather bed--the skill of Saladin
himself would have failed to divide it.  The fish was a most rebellious
pike, and nearly killed every loyal subject at table; and then down the
sides were various comestibles of chickens, with azure bosoms, and hams
with hides like a rhinoceros; covered dishes of decomposed vegetable
matter, called spinach and cabbage; potatoes arrayed in small masses, and
browned, resembling those ingenious architectural structures of mud,
children raise in the high ways, and call dirt-pies.  Such were the chief
constituents of the \x93feed;\x94 and such, I am bound to confess, waxed
beautifully less under the vigorous onslaught of the party.

The conversation soon became both loud and general.  That happy
familiarity--which I had long believed to be the exclusive prerogative of
a military mess, where constant daily association sustains the interest
of the veriest trifles--I here found in a perfection I had not
anticipated, with this striking difference, that there was no absurd
deference to any existing code of etiquette in the conduct of the party
generally, each person quizzing his neighbour in the most free and easy
style imaginable, and all, evidently from long habit and conventional
usage, seeming to enjoy the practice exceedingly.  Thus, droll allusions,
good stories, and smart repartees, fell thick as hail, and twice as
harmless, which any where else that I had ever heard of, would assuredly
have called for more explanations, and perhaps gunpowder, in the morning,
than usually are deemed agreeable.  Here, however, they knew better; and
though the lawyer quizzed the doctor for never having another patient
than the house dog, all of whose arteries he had tied in the course of
the winter for practice--and the doctor retorted as heavily, by showing
that the lawyer\x92s practice had been other than beneficial to those for
whom he was concerned--his one client being found guilty, mainly through
his ingenious defence of him; yet they never showed the slightest
irritation--on the contrary, such little playful badinage ever led to
some friendly passages of taking wine together, or in arrangements for a
party to the \x93Dargle,\x94 or \x93Dunleary;\x94 and thus went on the entire party,
the young ladies darting an occasion slight at their elders, who
certainly returned the fire, often with advantage; all uniting now and
then, however, in one common cause, an attack of the whole line upon Mrs.
Clanfrizzle herself, for the beef, or the mutton, or the fish, or the
poultry--each of which was sure to find some sturdy defamer, ready and
willing to give evidence in dispraise.  Yet even these, and I thought
them rather dangerous sallies, led to no more violent results than
dignified replies from the worthy hostess, upon the goodness of her fare,
and the evident satisfaction it afforded while being eaten, if the
appetites of the party were a test.  While this was at its height, Tom
stooped behind my chair, and whispered gently--

\x93This is good--isn\x92t it, eh?--life in a boarding-house--quite new to you;
but they are civilized now compared to what you\x92ll find them in the
drawing-room.  When short whist for five-penny points sets in--then Greek
meets Greek, and we\x92ll have it.\x94

During all this melee tournament, I perceived that the worthy jib as
he would be called in the parlance of Trinity, Mr. Cudmore, remained
perfectly silent, and apparently terrified.  The noise, the din of
voices, and the laughing, so completely addled him, that he was like one
in a very horrid dream.  The attention with which I had observed him,
having been remarked by my friend O\x92Flaherty, he informed me that the
scholar, as he was called there, was then under a kind of cloud--an
adventure which occurred only two nights before, being too fresh in his
memory to permit him enjoying himself even to the limited extent it had
been his wont to do.  As illustrative, not only of Mr. Cudmore, but the
life I have been speaking of, I may as well relate it.

Soon after Mr. Cudmore\x92s enlistment under the banners of the
Clanfrizzle, he had sought and found an asylum in the drawing-room of the
establishment, which promised, from its geographical relations, to expose
him less to the molestations of conversation than most other parts of the
room.  This was a small recess beside the fire-place, not uncommon in
old-fashioned houses, and which, from its incapacity to hold more than
one, secured to the worthy recluse the privacy he longed for; and here,
among superannuated hearth-brushes, an old hand screen, an asthmatic
bellows, and a kettle-holder, sat the timid youth, \x93alone, but in a
crowd.\x94  Not all the seductions of loo, limited to three pence, nor even
that most appropriately designated game, beggar-my-neighbour--could
withdraw him from his blest retreat.  Like his countryman, St. Kevin--my
friend Petrie has ascertained that the saint was a native of Tralee--he
fled from the temptations of the world, and the blandishments of the
fair; but, alas! like the saint himself, the

                        \x93poor jib little knew
                         All that wily sex can do;\x94

For while he hugged himself in the security of his fortress, the web of
his destiny was weaving.  So true is it, as he himself used, no less
pathetically than poetically to express it, \x93misfortune will find you
out, if ye were hid in a tay chest.\x94

It happened that in Mrs. Clanfrizzle\x92s establishment, the \x93enfant bleu,\x94
 already mentioned, was the only individual of his sex retained; and
without for a moment disparaging the ability or attentions of this gifted
person, yet it may reasonably be credited, that in waiting on a party of
twenty-five or thirty persons at dinner, all of whom he had admitted as
porter, and announced as maitre d\x92hotel, with the subsequent detail of
his duties in the drawing-room, that Peter, blue Peter--his
boarding-house soubriquet--not enjoying the bird-like privilege of
\x93being in two places at once,\x94 gave one rather the impression of a
person of hasty and fidgetty habits--for which nervous tendency the
treatment he underwent was certainly injudicious--it being the
invariable custom for each guest to put his services in requisition,
perfectly irrespective of all other claims upon him, from whatsoever
quarter coming--and then, at the precise moment that the luckless valet
was snuffing the candles, he was abused by one for not bringing coal; by
another for having carried off his tea-cup, sent on an expedition for
sugar; by a third for having left the door open, which he had never been
near; and so on to the end of the chapter.

It chanced that a few evenings previous to my appearance at the house,
this indefatigable Caleb was ministering as usual to the various and
discrepant wants of the large party assembled in the drawing-room.  With
his wonted alacrity he had withdrawn from their obscure retreat against
the wall, sundry little tables, destined for the players at whist, or
\x93spoil five\x94--the popular game of the establishment.  With a dexterity
that savoured much of a stage education, he had arranged the candles, the
cards, the counters; he had poked the fire, settled the stool for Miss
Riley\x92s august feet, and was busily engaged in changing five shillings
into small silver for a desperate victim of loo--when Mrs. Clanfrizzle\x92s
third, and, as it appeared, last time, of asking for the kettle smote
upon his ear.  His loyalty would have induced him at once to desert every
thing on such an occasion; but the other party engaged, held him fast,
saying--

\x93Never mind HER, Peter--you have sixpence more to give me.\x94

Poor Peter rummaged one pocket, then another--discovering at last three
pence in copper, and some farthings, with which he seemed endeavouring to
make a composition with his creditor for twelve shillings in the pound;
when Mrs. Clan\x92s patience finally becoming exhausted, she turned towards
Mr. Cudmore, the only unemployed person she could perceive, and with her
blandest smile said,

\x93Mr. Cudmore, may I take the liberty of requesting you would hand me the
kettle beside you.\x94

Now, though the kettle aforesaid was, as the hostess very properly
observed, beside him, yet the fact that in complying with the demand, it
was necessary for the bashful youth to leave the recess he occupied, and,
with the kettle, proceed to walk half across the room--there to perform
certain manual operations requiring skill and presence of mind, before a
large and crowded assembly--was horror to the mind of the poor Jib; and
he would nearly as soon have acceded to a desire to dance a hornpipe, if
such had been suggested as the wish of the company.  However, there was
nothing for it; and summoning up all his nerve--knitting his brows
--clenching his teeth, like one prepared to \x93do or die,\x94 he seized the
hissing cauldron, and strode through the room, like the personified
genius of steam, very much to the alarm of all the old ladies in the
vicinity, whose tasteful drapery benefitted but little from his progress.
Yet he felt but little of all this; he had brought up his courage to the
sticking place, and he was absolutely half unconscious of the whole scene
before him; nor was it till some kind mediator had seized his arm, while
another drew him back by the skirts of the coat, that he desisted from
the deluge of hot water, with which, having filled the tea-pot, he
proceeded to swamp every thing else upon the tray, in his unfortunate
abstraction.  Mrs. Clanfrizzle screamed--the old ladies accompanied her
--the young ones tittered--the men laughed--and, in a word, poor Cudmore,
perfectly unconscious of any thing extraordinary, felt himself the
admired of all admirers,--very little, it is true, to his own
satisfaction.  After some few minutes exposure to these eclats de rire,
he succeeded in depositing the source of his griefs within the fender,
and once more retired to his sanctuary,--having registered a vow, which,
should I speak it, would forfeit his every claim to gallantry for ever.

Whether in the vow aforesaid Mr. Cudmore had only been engaged in that
species of tesselating which furnishes the pavement so celebrated in the
lower regions, I know not; but true it is, that he retired that night to
his chamber very much discomfited at his debut in the great world, and
half disposed to believe that nature had neither intended him for a
Brummel nor a D\x92Orsay.  While he was ruminating on such matters, he was
joined by O\x92Flaherty, with whom he had been always more intimate than any
other inmate of the house--Tom\x92s tact having entirely concealed what the
manners of the others too plainly evinced, the perfect appreciation of
the student\x92s oddity and singularity.  After some few observations on
general matters, O\x92Flaherty began with a tone of some seriousness to
express towards Cudmore the warm interest he had ever taken in him, since
his first coming among them; his great anxiety for his welfare, and his
firm resolve that no chance or casual inattention to mere ceremonial
observances on his part should ever be seized on by the other guests
as a ground for detraction or an excuse for ridicule of him.

\x93Rely upon it, my dear boy,\x94 said he, \x93I have watched over you like a
parent; and having partly foreseen that something like this affair of
to-night would take place sooner or later\x94--

\x93What affair?\x94 said Cudmore--his eyes staring half out of his head.

\x93That business of the kettle.\x94

\x93Kett--el.  The kettle!  What of that?\x94 said Cudmore.

\x93What of it?  Why, if you don\x92t feel it, I am sure it is not my duty to
remind you; only\x94--

\x93Feel it--oh, yes.  I saw them laughing, because I spilled the water over
old Mrs. Jones, or something of that sort.\x94

\x93No, no, my dear young friend, they were not laughing at that--their
mirth had another object.\x94

\x93What the devil was it at, then?\x94

\x93You don\x92t know, don\x92t you?\x94

\x93No; I really do not.\x94

\x93Nor can\x92t guess--eh?\x94

\x93Confound me if I can.\x94

\x93Well.  I see, Mr. Cudmore, you are really too innocent for these
people.  But come--it shall never be said that youth and inexperience
ever suffered from the unworthy ridicule and cold sarcasm of the base
world, while Tom O\x92Flaherty stood by a spectator.

\x93Sir,\x94 said Tom, striking his hand with energy on the table, and darting
a look of fiery indignation from his eye, \x93Sir, you were this night
trepanned--yes, sir, vilely, shamefully trepanned--I repeat the
expression--into the performance of a menial office--an office so
degrading, so offensive, so unbecoming the rank, the station, and the
habits of gentlemen, my very blood recoils when I only think of the
indignity.\x94

The expression of increasing wonder and surprise depicted in Mr.
Cudmore\x92s face at these words, my friend Phiz might convey--I cannot
venture to describe it--suffice it to say, that even O\x92Flaherty himself
found it difficult to avoid a burst of laughter, as he looked at him and
resumed.

\x93Witnessing, as I did, the entire occurrence; feeling deeply for the
inexperience which the heartless worldlings had dared to trample upon,
I resolved to stand by you, and here I am come for that purpose.\x94

\x93Well, but what in the devil\x92s name have I done all this time?\x94

\x93What! are you still ignorant?--is it possible?  Did you not hand the
kettle from the fire-place, and fill the tea-pot?--answer me that!\x94

\x93I did,\x94 said Cudmore, with a voice already becoming tremulous.

\x93Is that the duty of a gentleman?--answer me that.\x94

A dead pause stood in place of a reply, while Tom proceeded--

\x93Did you ever hear any one ask me, or Counsellor Daly, or Mr. Fogarty,
or any other person to do so?--answer me that.\x94

\x93No; never\x94 muttered Cudmore, with a sinking spirit.

\x93Well then why may I ask, were you selected for an office that by your
own confession, no one else would stoop to perform?  I\x92ll tell you,
because from your youth and inexperience, your innocence was deemed a fit
victim to the heartless sneers of a cold and unfeeling world.\x94
 And here Tom broke forth into a very beautiful apostrophe, beginning--

\x93Oh, virtue!\x94 (this I am unfortunately unable to present to my readers;
and must only assure them that it was a very faithful imitation of the
well-known one delivered by Burke in the case of Warren Hastings,) and
concluding with an exhortation to Cudmore to wipe out the stain of his
wounded honour, by repelling with indignation the slightest future
attempt at such an insult.

This done, O\x92Flaherty retired, leaving Cudmore to dig among Greek roots,
and chew over the cud of his misfortune.  Punctual to the time and place,
that same evening beheld the injured Cudmore resume his wonted corner,
pretty much with the feeling with which a forlorn hope stands match in
hand to ignite the train destined to explode with ruin to thousands
--himself perhaps amongst the number: there he sat with a brain as
burning, and a heart as excited, as though, instead of sipping his bohea
beside a sea-coal fire, he was that instant trembling beneath the frown
of Dr. Elrington, for the blunders in his Latin theme, and what terror
to the mind of a \x93Jib\x94 can equal that one?

As luck would have it, this was a company night in the boarding-house.
Various young ladies in long blue sashes, and very broad ribbon sandals,
paraded the rooms, chatting gaily with very distinguished looking young
gentlemen, with gold brooches, and party-coloured inside waistcoats;
sundry elderly ladies sat at card-tables, discussing the \x93lost honour by
an odd trick they played,\x94 with heads as large as those of Jack or Jill
in the pantomime; spruce clerks in public offices, (whose vocation the
expansive tendency of the right ear, from long pen-carrying, betokened)
discussed fashion, \x93and the musical glasses\x94 to some very over-dressed
married ladies, who preferred flirting to five-and-ten.  The tea-table,
over which the amiable hostess presided, had also its standing votaries:
mostly grave parliamentary-looking gentlemen, with powdered heads,
and very long-waisted black coats, among whom the Sir Oracle was a
functionary of his Majesty\x92s High Court of Chancery, though I have reason
to believe, not, Lord Manners: meanwhile, in all parts of the room might
be seen Blue Peter, distributing tea, coffee, and biscuit, and
occasionally interchanging a joke with the dwellers in the house.  While
all these pleasing occupations proceeded, the hour of Cudmore\x92s trial was
approaching.  The tea-pot which had stood the attack of fourteen cups
without flinching, at last began to fail, and discovered to the prying
eyes of Mrs. Clanfrizzle, nothing but an olive-coloured deposit of soft
matter, closely analogous in appearance and chemical property to the
residuary precipitate in a drained fish-pond; she put down the lid with
a gentle sigh and turning towards the fire bestowed one of her very
blandest and most captivating looks on Mr. Cudmore, saying--as plainly
as looks could say--\x93Cudmore, you\x92re wanting.\x94  Whether the youth did,
or did not understand, I am unable to record: I can only say, the appeal
was made without acknowledgment.  Mrs. Clanfrizzle again essayed, and by
a little masonic movement of her hand to the tea-pot, and a sly glance at
the hob, intimated her wish--still hopelessly; at last there was nothing
for it but speaking; and she donned her very softest voice, and most
persuasive tone, saying--

\x93Mr. Cudmore, I am really very troublesome: will you permit me to ask
you?\x94--

\x93Is it for the kettle, ma\x92am?\x94 said Cudmore, with a voice that startled
the whole room, disconcerting three whist parties, and so absorbing the
attention of the people at loo, that the pool disappeared without any one
being able to account for the circumstance.

\x93Is it for the kettle, ma\x92am?\x94

\x93If you will be so very kind,\x94 lisped the hostess.

\x93Well, then, upon my conscience, you are impudent,\x94 said Cudmore, with
his face crimsoned to the ears, and his eyes flashing fire.

\x93Why, Mr. Cudmore,\x94 began the lady, \x93why, really, this is so strange.
Why sir, what can you mean?\x94

\x93Just that,\x94 said the imperturbable jib, who now that his courage was up,
dared every thing.

\x93But sir, you must surely have misunderstood me.  I only asked for the
kettle, Mr. Cudmore.\x94

\x93The devil a more,\x94 said Cud, with a sneer.

\x93Well, then, of course\x94--

\x93Well, then, I\x92ll tell you, of course,\x94 said he, repeating her words;
\x93the sorrow taste of the kettle, I\x92ll give you.  Call you own skip--Blue
Pether there--damn me, if I\x92ll be your skip any longer.\x94

For the uninitiated I have only to add, that \x93skip\x94 is the Trinity
College appellation for servant, which was therefore employed by Mr.
Cudmore, on this occasion, as expressing more contemptuously his sense
of the degradation of the office attempted to be put upon him.  Having
already informed my reader on some particulars of the company, I leave
him to suppose how Mr. Cudmore\x92s speech was received.  Whist itself was
at an end for that evening, and nothing but laughter, long, loud, and
reiterated, burst from every corner of the room for hours after.

As I have so far travelled out of the record of my own peculiar
confessions, as to give a leaf from what might one day form the matter of
Mr. Cudmore\x92s, I must now make the only amende in my power, by honestly
narrating, that short as my visit was to the classic precincts of this
agreeable establishment, I did not escape without exciting my share of
ridicule, though, I certainly had not the worst of the joke, and may,
therefore, with better grace tell the story, which, happily for my
readers, is a very brief one.  A custom prevailed in Mrs. Clanfrizzle\x92s
household, which from my unhappy ignorance of boarding-houses, I am
unable to predicate if it belong to the genera at large, or this one
specimen in particular, however, it is a sufficiently curious fact, even
though thereby hang no tale, for my stating it here.  The decanters on
the dinner-table were never labelled, with their more appropriate
designation of contents, whether claret, sherry, or port, but with the
names of their respective owners, it being a matter of much less
consequence that any individual at table should mix his wine, by pouring
\x93port upon madeira,\x94 than commit the truly legal offence of appropriating
to his own use and benefit, even by mistake, his neighbour\x92s bottle.
However well the system may work among the regular members of the
\x93domestic circle,\x94 and I am assured that it does succeed extremely
--to the newly arrived guest, or uninitiated visitor, the affair is
perplexing, and leads occasionally to awkward results.

It so chanced, from my friend O\x92Flaherty\x92s habitual position at the foot
of the table, and my post of honour near the head, that on the first day
of my appearing there, the distance between us, not only precluded all
possible intercourse, but any of those gentle hints as to habits and
customs, a new arrival looks for at the hands of his better informed
friend.  The only mode of recognition, to prove that we belonged to each
other, being by that excellent and truly English custom of drinking wine
together, Tom seized the first idle moment from his avocation as carver
to say,

\x93Lorrequer, a glass of wine with you.\x94

Having, of course, acceded, he again asked,

\x93What wine do you drink?\x94 intending thereby, as I afterwards learned, to
send me from his end of the table, what wine I selected.  Not conceiving
the object of the inquiry, and having hitherto without hesitation helped
myself from the decanter, which bore some faint resemblance to sherry,
I immediately turned for correct information to the bottle itself, upon
whose slender neck was ticketed the usual slip of paper.  My endeavours
to decypher the writing occupied time sufficient again to make O\x92Flaherty
ask,

\x93Well, Harry, I\x92m waiting for you.  Will you have port?\x94

\x93No, I thank you,\x94 I replied, having by this revealed the inscription.
\x93No, I thank you; I\x92ll just stick to my old friend here, Bob M\x92Grotty;\x94
 for thus I rendered familiarly the name of Rt. M\x92Grotty on the decanter,
and which I in my ignorance believed to be the boarding-house soubriquet
for bad sherry.  That Mr. M\x92Grotty himself little relished my familiarity
with either his name or property I had a very decisive proof, for turning
round upon his chair, and surveying my person from head to foot with a
look of fiery wrath, he thundered out in very broad Scotch,

\x93And by my saul, my freend, ye may just as weel finish it noo, for deil a
glass o\x92 his ain wine did Bob M\x92Grotty, as ye ca\x92 him, swallow this day.\x94

The convulsion of laughter into which my blunder and the Scotchman\x92s
passion threw the whole board, lasted till the cloth was withdrawn, and
the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, the only individual at table
not relishing the mistake being the injured proprietor of the bottle, who
was too proud to accept reparation from my friend\x92s decanter, and would
scarcely condescend to open his lips during the evening; notwithstanding
which display of honest indignation, we contrived to become exceedingly
merry and jocose, most of the party communicating little episodes of
their life, in which, it is true, they frequently figured in situations
that nothing but their native and natural candour would venture to avow.
One story I was considerably amused at; it was told by the counsellor,
Mr. Daly, in illustration of the difficulty of rising at the bar, and
which, as showing his own mode of obviating the delay that young
professional men submit to from hard necessity, as well as in evidence of
his strictly legal turn, I shall certainly recount, one of these days,
for the edification of the junior bar.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE CHASE.

On the morning after my visit to the boarding-house, I received a few
hurried lines from Curzon, informing me that no time was to be lost in
joining the regiment--that a grand fancy ball was about to be given by
the officers of the Dwarf frigate, then stationed off Dunmore; who, when
inviting the ___, specially put in a demand for my well-known services,
to make it to go off, and concluding with an extract from the Kilkenny
Moderator, which ran thus--

     \x93An intimation has just reached us, from a quarter on which we can
     place the fullest reliance, that the celebrated amateur performer,
     Mr. Lorrequer, may shortly be expected amongst us; from the many
     accounts we have received of this highly-gifted gentleman\x92s powers,
     we anticipate a great treat to the lovers of the drama,\x94 &c. &c.
     \x93So you see, my dear Hal,\x94 continued Curzon, \x93thy vocation calls
     thee; therefore come, and come quickly--provide thyself with a black
     satin costume, slashed with light blue--point lace collar and
     ruffles--a Spanish hat looped in front--and, if possible, a long
     rapier, with a flap hilt.--Carden is not here; so you may show your
     face under any colour with perfect impunity.--Yours from the side
     scenes,

                                             \x93C. Curzon.\x94

This clever epistle sufficed to show me that the gallant __th had gone
clean theatrical mad; and although from my \x93last appearance on any
stage,\x94 it might be supposed I should feel no peculiar desire to repeat
the experiment, yet the opportunity of joining during Col. Carden\x92s
absence, was too tempting to resist, and I at once made up my mind to
set out, and, without a moment\x92s delay, hurried across the street to
the coach office, to book myself an inside in the mail of that night;
fortunately no difficulty existed in my securing the seat, for the
way-bill was a perfect blank, and I found myself the only person who had,
as yet, announced himself a passenger.  On returning to my hotel, I found
O\x92Flaherty waiting for me; he was greatly distressed on hearing my
determination to leave town--explained how he had been catering for my
amusement for the week to come--that a picnic to the Dargle was arranged
in a committee of the whole house, and a boating party, with a dinner at
the Pigeon-house, was then under consideration; resisting, however, such
extreme temptations, I mentioned the necessity of my at once proceeding
to headquarters, and all other reasons for my precipitancy failing,
concluded with that really knock-down argument, \x93I have taken my place;\x94
 this, I need scarcely add, finished the matter--at least I have never
known it fail in such cases.  Tell your friends that your wife is hourly
expecting to be confined; your favourite child is in the measles--you
best friend waiting your aid in an awkward scrape--your one vote only
wanting to turn the scale in an election.  Tell them, I say, each or all
of these, or a hundred more like them, and to any one you so speak, the
answer is--\x93Pooh, pooh, my dear fellow, never fear--don\x92t fuss yourself
--take it easy--to-morrow will do just as well.\x94  If, on the other hand,
however, you reject such flimsy excuses, and simply say, \x93I\x92m booked in
the mail,\x94 the opposition at once falls to the ground, and your quondam
antagonist, who was ready to quarrel with you, is at once prepared to
assist in packing your portmanteau.

Having soon satisfied my friend Tom that resistance was in vain, I
promised to eat an early dinner with him at Morrisson\x92s, and spent the
better part of the morning in putting down a few notes of my Confessions,
as well as the particulars of Mr. Daly\x92s story, which, I believe, I half
or wholly promised my readers at the conclusion of my last chapter; but
which I must defer to a more suitable opportunity, when mentioning the
next occasion of my meeting him on the southern circuit.

My dispositions were speedily made.  I was fortunate in securing the
exact dress my friend\x92s letter alluded to among the stray costumes of
Fishamble-street; and rich in the possession of the only \x93properties\x94 it
has been my lot to acquire, I despatched my treasure to the coach office,
and hastened to Morrisson\x92s, it being by this time nearly five o\x92clock.
There, true to time, I found O\x92Flaherty deep in the perusal of the bill,
along which figured the novel expedients for dining, I had been in the
habit of reading in every Dublin hotel since my boyhood.  \x93Mock turtle,
mutton, gravy, roast beef and potatoes--shoulder of mutton and potatoes!
--ducks and peas, potatoes!! ham and chicken, cutlet steak and
potatoes!!! apple tart and cheese:\x94 with a slight cadenza of a sigh over
the distant glories of Very, or still better the \x93Freres,\x94 we sat down to
a very patriarchal repast, and what may be always had par excellence in
Dublin, a bottle of Sneyd\x92s claret.

Poor Tom\x92s spirits were rather below their usual pitch; and although he
made many efforts to rally and appear gay, he could not accomplish it.
However, we chatted away over old times and old friends, and forgetting
all else but the topics we talked of, the time-piece over the chimney
first apprised me that two whole hours had gone by, and that it was now
seven o\x92clock, the very hour the coach was to start.  I started up at
once, and notwithstanding all Tom\x92s representations of the impossibility
of my being in time, had despatched waiters in different directions for a
jarvey, more than ever determined upon going; so often is it that when
real reasons for our conduct are wanting, any casual or chance opposition
confirms us in an intention which before was but uncertain.  Seeing me so
resolved, Tom, at length, gave way, and advised my pursuing the mail,
which must be now gone at least ten minutes, and which, with smart
driving, I should probably overtake before getting free of the city, as
they have usually many delays in so doing.  I at once ordered out the
\x93yellow post-chaise,\x94 and before many minutes had elapsed, what, with
imprecation and bribery, I started in pursuit of his Majesty\x92s Cork and
Kilkenny mail coach, then patiently waiting in the court-yard of the Post
Office.

\x93Which way now, your honor?\x94 said a shrill voice from the dark--for such
the night had already become, and threatened with a few heavy drops of
straight rain, the fall of a tremendous shower.

\x93The Naas road,\x94 said I; \x93and, harkye, my fine fellow, if you overtake
the coach in half an hour, I\x92ll double your fare.\x94

\x93Be gorra, I\x92ll do my endayvour,\x94 said the youth; at the same time
instant dashing in both spurs, we rattled down Nassau-street at a very
respectable pace for harriers.  Street after street we passed, and at
last I perceived we had got clear of the city, and were leaving the long
line of lamp-lights behind us.  The night was now pitch dark.  I could
not see any thing whatever.  The quick clattering of the wheels, the
sharp crack of the postillion\x92s whip, or the still sharper tone of his
\x93gee hup,\x94 showed me we were going at a tremendous pace, had I not even
had the experience afforded by the frequent visits my head paid to the
roof of the chaise, so often as we bounded over a stone, or splashed
through a hollow.  Dark and gloomy as it was, I constantly let down the
window, and with half my body protruded, endeavores to catch a glimpse of
the \x93Chase;\x94 but nothing could I see.  The rain now fell in actual
torrents; and a more miserable night it is impossible to conceive.

After about an hour so spent, he at last came to a check, so sudden and
unexpected on my part, that I was nearly precipitated, harlequin fashion,
through the front window.  Perceiving that we no longer moved, and
suspecting that some part of our tackle had given way, I let down the
sash, and cried out--\x93Well now, my lad, any thing wrong?\x94  My questions
was, however, unheard; and although, amid the steam arising from the wet
and smoking horses, I could perceive several figures indistinctly moving
about, I could not distinguish what they were doing, nor what they said.
A laugh I certainly did hear, and heartily cursed the unfeeling wretch,
as I supposed him to be, who was enjoying himself at my disappointment.
I again endeavoured to find out what had happened, and called out still
louder than before.

\x93We are at Ra\x92coole, your honor,\x94 said the boy, approaching the door of
the chaise, \x93and she\x92s only beat us by hafe a mile.\x94

\x93Who the devil is she?\x94 said I.

\x93The mail, your honor, is always a female in Ireland.\x94

\x93Then why do you stop now?  You\x92re not going to feed I suppose?\x94

\x93Of course not, your honor, it\x92s little feeding troubles these bastes,
any how, but they tell me the road is so heavy we\x92ll never take the
chaise over the next stage without leaders.\x94

\x93Without leaders!\x94 said I.  \x93Pooh! my good fellow, no humbugging,
four horses for a light post-chaise and no luggage; come get up, and no
nonsense.\x94  At this moment a man approached the window with a lantern in
his hand, and so strongly represented the dreadful state of the roads
from the late rains--the length of the stage--the frequency of accidents
latterly from under-horsing, &c. &c. that I yielded, a reluctant assent,
and ordered out the leaders, comforting myself the while, that
considering the inside fare of the coach, I made such efforts to
overtake, was under a pound, and that time was no object to me, I
certainly was paying somewhat dearly for my character for resolution.

At last we got under way once more, and set off cheered by a tremendous
shout from at least a dozen persons, doubtless denizens of that
interesting locality, amid which I once again heard the laugh that had so
much annoyed me already.  The rain was falling, if possible, more heavily
than before, and had evidently set in for the entire night.  Throwing
myself back into a corner of the \x93leathern convenience,\x94 I gave myself up
to the full enjoyment of the Rouchefoucauld maxim, that there is always a
pleasure felt in the misfortunes of even our best friends, and certainly
experienced no small comfort in my distress, by contrasting my present
position with that of my two friends in the saddle, as they sweltered on
through mud and mire, rain and storm.  On we went, splashing, bumping,
rocking, and jolting, till I began at last to have serious thoughts of
abdicating the seat and betaking myself to the bottom of the chaise, for
safety and protection.  Mile after mile succeeded, and as after many a
short and fitful slumber, which my dreams gave an apparent length to,
I woke only to find myself still in pursuit--the time seemed so
enormously protracted that I began to fancy my whole life was to be
passed in the dark, in chase of the Kilkenny mail, as we read in the true
history of the flying Dutchman, who, for his sins of impatience--like
mine--spent centuries vainly endeavouring to double the Cape, or the
Indian mariner in Moore\x92s beautiful ballad, of whom we are told as--

                   \x93Many a day to night gave way,
                      And many a morn succeeded,
                    Yet still his flight, by day and night,
                      That restless mariner speeded.\x94

This might have been all very well in the tropics, with a smart craft and
doubtless plenty of sea store--but in a chaise, at night, and on the Naas
road, I humbly suggest I had all the worse of the parallel.

At last the altered sound of the wheels gave notice of our approach
to a town, and after about twenty minutes; rattling over the pavement
we entered what I supposed, correctly, to be Naas.  Here I had long since
determined my pursuit should cease.  I had done enough, and more than
enough, to vindicate my fame against any charge of irresolution as to
leaving Dublin, and was bethinking me of the various modes of prosecuting
my journey on the morrow, when we drew up suddenly at the door of the
Swan. The arrival of a chaise and four at a small country town inn,
suggests to the various employees therein, any thing rather than the
traveller in pursuit of the mail, and so the moment I arrived, I was
assailed with innumerable proffers of horses, supper, bed, &c.  My
anxious query was thrice repeated in vain, \x93When did the coach pass?\x94

\x93The mail,\x94 replied the landlord at length.  \x93Is it the down mail?\x94

Not understanding the technical, I answered, \x93Of course not the Down--the
Kilkenny and Cork mail.\x94

\x93From Dublin, sir?\x94

\x93Yes, from Dublin.\x94

\x93Not arrived yet, sir, nor will it for three quarters of an hour; they
never leave Dublin till a quarter past seven; that is, in fact, half
past, and their time here is twenty minutes to eleven.\x94

\x93Why, you stupid son of a boot-top, we have been posting on all night
like the devil, and all this time the coach has been ten miles behind
us.\x94

\x93Well, we\x92ve cotch them any how,\x94 said the urchin, as he disengaged
himself from his wet saddle, and stood upon the ground; \x93and it is not my
fault that the coach is not before us.\x94

With a satisfactory anathema upon all innkeepers, waiters, hostlers, and
post-boys, with a codicil including coach-proprietors, I followed the
smirking landlord into a well-lighted room, with a blazing fire, when
having ordered supper, I soon regained my equanimity.

My rasher and poached eggs, all Naas could afford me, were speedily
despatched, and as my last glass, from my one pint of sherry, was poured
out, the long expected coach drew up.  A minute after the coachman
entered to take his dram, followed by the guard; a more lamentable
spectacle of condensed moisture cannot be conceived; the rain fell from
the entire circumference of his broad-brimmed hat, like the ever-flowing
drop from the edge of an antique fountain; his drab-coat had become a
deep orange hue, while his huge figure loomed still larger, as he stood
amid a nebula of damp, that would have made an atmosphere for the
Georgium Sidus.

\x93Going on to-night, sir?\x94 said he, addressing me; \x93severe weather, and no
chance of its clearing, but of course you\x92re inside.\x94

\x93Why, there is very little doubt of that,\x94 said I.  \x93Are you nearly full
inside?\x94

\x93Only one, sir; but he seems a real queer chap; made fifty inquiries at
the office if he could not have the whole inside to himself, and when he
heard that one place had been taken--your\x92s, I believe, sir--he seemed
like a scalded bear.\x94

\x93You don\x92t know his name then?\x94

\x93No, sir, he never gave a name at the office, and his only luggage is two
brown paper parcels, without any ticket, and he has them inside; indeed
he never lets them from him even for a second.\x94

Here the guard\x92s horn, announcing all ready, interrupted our colloquy,
and prevented my learning any thing further of my fellow-traveller, whom,
however, I at once set down in my own mind for some confounded old churl
that made himself comfortable every where, without ever thinking of any
one else\x92s convenience.

As I passed from the inn door to the coach, I once more congratulated
myself that I was about to be housed from the terrific storm of wind and
rain that railed about.

\x93Here\x92s the step, sir,\x94 said the guard, \x93get in, sir, two minutes late
already.\x94

\x93I beg your pardon, sir,\x94 said I, as I half fell over the legs of my
unseen companion.  \x93May I request leave to pass you?\x94  While he made way
for me for this purpose, I perceived that he stooped down towards the
guard, and said something, who from his answer had evidently been
questioned as to who I was.  \x93And how did he get here, if he took his
place in Dublin?\x94 asked the unknown.

\x93Came half an hour since, sir, in a chaise and four,\x94 said the guard, as
he banged the door behind him, and closed the interview.

Whatever might have been the reasons for my fellow-traveller\x92s anxiety
about my name and occupation, I knew not, yet could not help feeling
gratified at thinking that as I had not given my name at the coach
office, I was a great a puzzle to him as he to me.

\x93A severe night, sir,\x94 said I, endeavouring to break ground in
conversation.

\x93Mighty severe,\x94 briefly and half crustily replied the unknown, with a
richness of brogue, that might have stood for a certificate of baptism
in Cork or its vicinity.

\x93And a bad road too, sir,\x94 said I, remembering my lately accomplished
stage.

\x93That\x92s the reason I always go armed,\x94 said the unknown, clinking at the
same moment something like the barrel of a pistol.

Wondering somewhat at his readiness to mistake my meaning, I felt
disposed to drop any further effort to draw him out, and was about to
address myself to sleep, as comfortably as I could.

\x93I\x92ll jist trouble ye to lean aff that little parcel there, sir,\x94 said
he, as he displaced from its position beneath my elbow, one of the paper
packages the guard had already alluded to.

In complying with this rather gruff demand, one of my pocket pistols,
which I carried in my breast pocket, fell out upon his knee, upon which
he immediately started, and asked hurriedly--\x93and are you armed too?\x94

\x93Why, yes,\x94 said I, laughingly; \x93men of my trade seldom go without
something of this kind.\x94

\x93Be gorra, I was just thinking that same,\x94 said the traveller, with a
half sigh to himself.

Why he should or should not have thought so, I never troubled myself to
canvass, and was once more settling myself in my corner, when I was
startled by a very melancholy groan, which seemed to come from the bottom
of my companion\x92s heart.

\x93Are you ill, sir?\x94 said I, in a voice of some anxiety.

\x93You might say that,\x94 replied he--\x93if you knew who you were talking to
--although maybe you\x92ve heard enough of me, though you never saw me till
now.\x94

\x93Without having that pleasure even yet,\x94 said I, \x93it would grieve me to
think you should be ill in the coach.\x94

\x93May be it might,\x94 briefly replied the unknown, with a species of meaning
in his words I could not then understand.  \x93Did ye never hear tell of
Barney Doyle?\x94 said he.

\x93Not to my recollection.\x94

\x93Then I\x92m Barney,\x94 said he; \x93that\x92s in all the newspapers in the
metropolis; I\x92m seventeen weeks in Jervis-street hospital, and four in
the Lunatic, and the devil a better after all; you must be a stranger,
I\x92m thinking, or you\x92d know me now.\x94

\x93Why I do confess, I\x92ve only been a few hours in Ireland for the last six
months.\x94

\x93Ay, that\x92s the reason; I knew you would not be fond of travelling with
me, if you knew who it was.\x94

\x93Why, really,\x94 said I, beginning at the moment to fathom some of the
hints of my companion, \x93I did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting
you.\x94

\x93It\x92s pleasure ye call it; then there\x92s no accountin\x92 for tastes,
as Dr. Colles said, when he saw me bite Cusack Rooney\x92s thumb off.\x94

\x93Bite a man\x92s thumb off!\x94 said I, in a horror.

\x93Ay,\x94 said he with a kind of fiendish animation, \x93in one chop; I wish
you\x92d see how I scattered the consultation; begad they didn\x92t wait to
ax for a fee.\x94

Upon my soul, a very pleasant vicinity, though I.  \x93And, may I ask sir,\x94
 said I, in a very mild and soothing tone of voice, \x93may I ask the reason
for this singular propensity of yours?\x94

\x93There it is now, my dear,\x94 said he, laying his hand upon my knee
familiarly, \x93that\x92s just the very thing they can\x92t make out; Colles says,
it\x92s all the ceribellum, ye see, that\x92s inflamed and combusted, and some
of the others think it\x92s the spine; and more, the muscles; but my real
impression is, the devil a bit they know about it at all.\x94

\x93And have they no name for the malady?\x94 said I.

\x93Oh sure enough they have a name for it.\x94

\x93And, may I ask--\x94

\x93Why, I think you\x92d better not, because ye see, maybe I might be
throublesome to ye in the night, though I\x92ll not, if I can help it; and
it might be uncomfortable to you to be here if I was to get one of the
fits.\x94

\x93One of the fits!  Why it\x92s not possible, sir,\x94 said I, \x93you would travel
in a public conveyance in the state you mention; your friends surely
would not permit it?\x94

\x93Why, if they knew, perhaps,\x94 slily responded the interesting invalid,
\x93if they knew they might not exactly like it, but ye see, I escaped only
last night, and there\x92ll be a fine hub-bub in the morning, when they find
I\x92m off; though I\x92m thinking Rooney\x92s barking away by this time.\x94

\x93Rooney barking, why, what does that mean?\x94

\x93They always bark for a day or two after they\x92re bit, if the infection
comes first from the dog.\x94

\x93You are surely not speaking of hydrophobia,\x94 said I, my hair actually
bristling with horror and consternation.

\x93Ayn\x92t I?\x94 replied he; \x93may be you\x92ve guessed it though.\x94

\x93And have you the malady on you at present?\x94 said I, trembling for the
answer.

\x93This is the ninth day since I took to biting,\x94 said he gravely,
perfectly unconscious as it appeared of the terror such information was
calculated to convey.

\x93Any with such a propensity, sir, do you think yourself warranted in
travelling in a public coach, exposing others--\x94

\x93You\x92d better not raise your voice, that way,\x94 quietly responded he, \x93if
I\x92m roused, it \x91ll be worse for ye, that\x92s all.\x94

\x93Well but,\x94 said I, moderating my zeal, \x93is it exactly prudent, in your
present delicate state, to undertake a journey?\x94

\x93Ah,\x94 said he, with a sigh, \x93I\x92ve been longing to see the fox hounds
throw off, near Kilkenny; these three weeks I\x92ve been thinking of nothing
else; but I\x92m not sure how my nerves will stand the cry; I might be
throublesome.\x94

\x93Upon my soul,\x94 thought I, \x93I shall not select that morning for my debut
in the field.\x94

\x93I hope, sir, there\x92s no river, or watercourse on this road--any thing
else, I can, I hope, control myself against; but water--running water
particularly--makes me throublesome.\x94

Well knowing what he meant by the latter phrase, I felt the cold
perspiration settling on my forehead, as I remembered that we must be
within about ten or twelve miles of Leighlin-bridge, where we should have
to pass a very wide river.  I strictly concealed this fact from him,
however, and gave him to understand that there was not a well, brook, or
rivulet, for forty miles on either side of us.  He now sunk into a kind
of moody silence, broken occasionally by a low muttering noise, as if
speaking to himself--what this might portend, I knew not--but thought it
better, under all circumstances, not to disturb him.  How comfortable my
present condition was, I need scarcely remark--sitting vis a vis to a
lunatic, with a pair of pistols in his possession--who had already avowed
his consciousness of his tendency to do mischief, and his inability to
master it; all this in the dark, and in the narrow limits of a
mail-coach, where there was scarcely room for defence, and no
possibility of escape--how heartily I wished myself back in the
Coffee-room at Morrisson\x92s, with my poor friend Tom--the infernal
chaise, that I cursed a hundred times, would have been an \x93exchange,\x94
 better than into the Life Guards--ay, even the outside of the coach, if
I could only reach it, would, under present circumstances, be a glorious
alternative to my existing misfortune.  What were rain and storm,
thunder and lightning, compared with the chances that awaited me here?
--wet through I should inevitably be, but then I had not yet contracted
the horror of moisture my friend opposite laboured under.  \x93Ha! what is
that? is it possible he can be asleep; is it really a snore?--Heaven
grant that little snort be not what the medical people call a
premonitory symptom--if so, he\x92ll be in upon me now in no time.  Ah,
there it is again; he must be asleep surely; now then is my time or
never.\x94  With these words, muttered to myself, and a heart throbbing
almost audibly at the risk of his awakening, I slowly let down the
window of the coach, and stretching forth my hand, turned the handle
cautiously and slowly; I next disengaged my legs, and by a long
continuous effort of creeping--which I had learned perfectly once, when
practising to go as a boa constrictor to a fancy ball--I withdrew myself
from the seat and reached the step, when I muttered something very like
a thanksgiving to Providence for my rescue. With little difficulty I now
climbed up beside the guard, whose astonishment at my appearance was
indeed considerable--that any man should prefer the out, to the inside
of a coach, in such a night, was rather remarkable; but that the person
so doing should be totally unprovided with a box-coat, or other similar
protection, argued something so strange, that I doubt not, if he were to
decide upon the applicability of the statute of lunacy to a traveller in
the mail, the palm would certainly have been awarded to me, and not to
my late companion.  Well, on we rolled, and heavily as the rain poured
down, so relieved did I feel at my change of position, that I soon fell
fast asleep, and never awoke till the coach was driving up Patrick
street. Whatever solace to my feelings reaching the outside of the coach
might have been attended with at night, the pleasure I experienced on
awaking, was really not unalloyed.  More dead than alive, I sat a mass
of wet clothes, like nothing under heaven except it be that morsel of
black and spongy wet cotton at the bottom of a schoolboy\x92s ink bottle,
saturated with rain, and the black dye of my coat.  My hat too had
contributed its share of colouring matter, and several long black
streaks coursed down my \x93wrinkled front,\x94 giving me very much the air of
an Indian warrior, who had got the first priming of his war paint.  I
certainly must have been rueful object, were I only to judge from the
faces of the waiters as they gazed on me when the coach drew up at Rice
and Walsh\x92s hotel. Cold, wet, and weary as I was, my curiosity to learn
more of my late agreeable companion was strong as ever within me
--perhaps stronger, from the sacrifices his acquaintance had exacted
from me.  Before, however, I had disengaged myself from the pile of
trunks and carpet bags I had surrounded myself with--he had got out of
the coach, and all I could catch a glimpse of was the back of a little
short man in a kind of grey upper coat, and long galligaskins on his
legs.  He carried his two bundles under his arm, and stepped nimbly up
the steps of the hotel, without turning his head to either side.

\x93Don\x92t fancy you shall escape me now, my good friend,\x94 I cried out, as I
sprung from the roof to the ground, with one jump, and hurried after the
great unknown into the coffee-room.  By the time I reached it he had
approached the fire, on the table near which, having deposited the
mysterious paper parcels, he was now busily engaged in divesting himself
of his great coat; his face was still turned from me, so that I had time
to appear employed in divesting myself of my wet drapery before he
perceived me; at last the coat was unbuttoned, the gaiters followed, and
throwing them carelessly on a chair, he tucked up the skirts of his coat;
and spreading himself comfortably a l\x92Anglais, before the fire, displayed
to my wondering and stupified gaze, the pleasant features of Doctor
Finucane.

\x93Why, Doctor--Doctor Finucane,\x94 cried I, \x93is this possible? were you
really the inside in the mail last night.\x94

\x93Devil a doubt of it, Mr. Lorrequer; and may I make bould to ask,--were
you the outside?\x94

\x93Then what, may I beg to know, did you mean by your damned story about
Barney Doyle, and the hydrophobia, and Cusack Rooney\x92s thumb--eh?\x94

\x93Oh, by the Lord,\x94 said Finucane, \x93this will be the death of me; and it
was you that I drove outside in all the rain last night!  Oh, it will
kill Father Malachi outright with laughing, when I tell him;\x94 and he
burst out into a fit of merriment that nearly induced me to break his
head with the poker.

\x93Am I to understand, then, Mr. Finucane, that this practical joke of your
was contrived for my benefit, and for the purpose of holding me up to the
ridicule of your confounded acquaintances.\x94

\x93Nothing of the kind, upon my conscience,\x94 said Fin, drying his eyes,
and endeavouring to look sorry and sentimental.  \x93If I had only the least
suspicion in life that it was you, upon my oath I\x92d not have had the
hydrophobia at all, and, to tell you the truth, you were not the only
one frightened--you alarmed me devilishly too.\x94

\x93I alarmed you!  Why, how can that be?\x94

\x93Why, the real affair is this: I was bringing these two packages of notes
down to my cousin Callaghan\x92s bank in Cork--fifteen thousand pounds
--devil a less; and when you came into the coach at Naas, after driving
there with your four horses, I thought it was all up with me.  The guard
just whispered in my ear, that he saw you look at the priming of your
pistols before getting in; and faith I said four paters, and a hail Mary,
before you\x92d count five.  Well, when you got seated, the thought came
into my mind that maybe, highwayman as you were, you would not like dying
a natural death, more particularly if you were an Irishman; and so I
trumped up that long story about the hydrophobia, and the gentleman\x92s
thumb, and devil knows what besides; and, while I was telling it, the
cold perspiration was running down my head and face, for every time you
stirred, I said to myself, now he\x92ll do it.  Two or three times, do you
know, I was going to offer you ten shillings in the pound, and spare my
life; and once, God forgive me, I thought it would not be a bad plan to
shoot you by \x91mistake,\x92 do you perceave?\x94

\x93Why, upon my soul, I\x92m very much obliged to you for your excessively
kind intentions; but really I feel you have done quite enough for me on
the present occasion.  But, come now, doctor, I must get to bed, and
before I go, promise me two things--to dine with us to-day at the mess,
and not to mention a syllable of what occurred last night--it tells,
believe me, very badly for both; so, keep the secret, for if these
confounded fellows of ours ever get hold of it, I may sell out,
or quit the army; I\x92ll never hear the end of it!\x94

\x93Never fear, my boy; trust me.  I\x92ll dine with you, and you\x92re as safe as
a church-mouse for any thing I\x92ll tell them; so, now you\x92d better change
your clothes, for I\x92m thinking it rained last night.\x94

Muttering some very dubious blessings upon the learned Fin, I left the
room, infinitely more chagrined and chop-fallen at the discovery I had
made, than at all the misery and exposure the trick had consigned me to;
\x93however,\x94 thought I, \x93if the doctor keep his word, it all goes well; the
whole affair is between us both solely; but, should it not be so, I may
shoot half the mess before the other half would give up quizzing me.\x94
 Revolving such pleasant thought, I betook myself to bed, and what with
mulled port, and a blazing fire, became once more conscious of being a
warm-blooded animal, and feel sound asleep, to dream of doctors, strait
waistcoats, shaved heads, and all the pleasing associations my late
companion\x92s narrative so readily suggested.



CHAPTER XV.

MEMS. OF THE NORTH CORK.

At six o\x92clock I had the pleasure of presenting the worthy Doctor
Finucane to our mess, taking at the same time an opportunity, unobserved
by him, to inform three or four of my brother officers that my friend was
really a character, abounding in native drollery, and richer in good
stories than even the generality of his countrymen.

Nothing could possibly go on better than the early part of the evening.
Fin, true to his promise, never once alluded to what I could plainly
perceive was ever uppermost in his mind, and what with his fund of
humour, quaintness of expression, and quickness at reply, garnished
throughout by his most mellifluous brogue, the true \x93Bocca Corkana,\x94 kept
us from one roar of laughter to another.  It was just at the moment in
which his spirits seemed at their highest, that I had the misfortune to
call upon him for a story, which his cousin Father Malachi had alluded to
on the ever-memorable evening at his house, and which I had a great
desire to hear from Fin\x92s own lips.  He seemed disposed to escape telling
it, and upon my continuing to press my request, drily remarked,

\x93You forget, surely, my dear Mr. Lorrequer, the weak condition I\x92m in;
and these gentlemen here, they don\x92t know what a severe illness I\x92ve been
labouring under lately, or they would not pass the decanter so freely
down this quarter.\x94

I had barely time to throw a mingled look of entreaty and menace across
the table, when half-a-dozen others, rightly judging from the Doctor\x92s
tone and serio-comic expression, that his malady had many more symptoms
of fun than suffering about it, called out together--

\x93Oh, Doctor, by all means, tell us the nature of your late attack--pray
relate it.\x94

\x93With Mr. Lorrequer\x92s permission I\x92m your slave, gentlemen,\x94 said Fin,
finishing off his glass.

\x93Oh, as for me,\x94 I cried, \x93Dr. Finucane has my full permission to detail
whatever he pleases to think a fit subject for your amusement.\x94

\x93Come then, Doctor, Harry has no objection you see; so out with it, and
we are all prepared to sympathise with your woes and misfortunes,
whatever they be.\x94

\x93Well, I am sure, I never could think of mentioning it without his leave;
but now that he sees no objection--Eh, do you though?  if so, then, don\x92t
be winking and making faces at me; but say the word, and devil a syllable
of it I\x92ll tell to man or mortal.\x94

The latter part of this delectable speech was addressed to me across the
table, in a species of stage whisper, in reply to some telegraphic
signals I had been throwing him, to induce him to turn the conversation
into any other channel.

\x93Then, that\x92s enough,\x94 continued he sotto voce--\x93I see you\x92d rather I\x92d
not tell it.\x94

\x93Tell it and be d____d,\x94 said I, wearied by the incorrigible pertinacity
with which the villain assailed me.  My most unexpected energy threw the
whole table into a roar, at the conclusion of which Fin began his
narrative of the mail-coach adventure.

I need not tell my reader, who has followed me throughout in these my
Confessions, that such a story lost nothing of its absurdity, when
entrusted to the Doctor\x92s powers of narration; he dwelt with a poet\x92s
feeling upon the description of his own sufferings, and my sincere
condolence and commiseration; he touched with the utmost delicacy upon
the distant hints by which he broke the news to me; but when he came to
describe my open and undisguised terror, and my secret and precipitate
retreat to the roof of the coach, there was not a man at table that was
not convulsed with laughter---and, shall I acknowledge it, even I myself
was unable to withstand the effect, and joined in the general chorus
against myself.

\x93Well,\x94 said the remorseless wretch, as he finished his story, \x93if ye
haven\x92t the hard hearts to laugh at such a melancholy subject.  Maybe,
however, you\x92re not so cruel after all--here\x92s a toast for you, \x91a speedy
recovery to Cusack Rooney.\x92\x94  This was drank amid renewed peals, with all
the honors; and I had abundant time before the uproar was over, to wish
every man of them hanged.  It was to no purpose that I endeavoured to
turn the tables, by describing Fin\x92s terror at my supposed resemblance to
a highwayman---his story had the precedence, and I met nothing during my
recital but sly allusions to mad dogs, muzzles, and doctors; and
contemptible puns were let off on every side at my expense.

\x93It\x92s little shame I take to myself for the mistake, any how,\x94 said Fin,
\x93for putting the darkness of the night out of question, I\x92m not so sure I
would not have ugly suspicions of you by daylight.\x94

\x93And besides, Doctor,\x94 added I, \x93it would not be your first blunder in
the dark.\x94

\x93True for you, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said he, good-humouredly; \x93and now that I
have told them your story, I don\x92t care if they hear mine, though maybe
some of ye have heard it already--it\x92s pretty well known in the North
Cork.\x94

We all gave our disclaimers on this point, and having ordered in a fresh
cooper of port, disposed ourselves in our most easy attitudes, while the
Doctor proceeded as follows:--

\x93It was in the hard winter of the year __99, that we were quartered in
Maynooth, as many said, for our sins--for a more stupid place, the Lord
be merciful to it, never were men condemned to.  The people at the
college were much better off than us--they had whatever was to be got in
the country, and never were disturbed by mounting guard, or night
patrols.  Many of the professors were good fellows, that liked grog fully
as well as Greek, and understood short whist, and five and ten quite as
intimately as they knew the Vulgate, or the confessions of St. Augustine
--they made no ostentacious display of their pious zeal, but whenever
they were not fasting, or praying, or something of that kind, they were
always pleasant and agreeable; and to do them justice, never refused,
by any chance, an invitation to dinner--no matter at what inconvenience.
Well, even this little solace in our affliction we soon lost, by an
unfortunate mistake of that Orange rogue of the world, Major Jones,
that gave a wrong pass one night--Mr. Lorrequer knows the story, (here he
alluded to an adventure detailed in an early chapter of my Confessions)
--and from that day forward we never saw the pleasant faces of the Abbe
D\x92Array, or the Professor of the Humanities, at the mess.  Well, the only
thing I could do, was just to take an opportunity to drop in at the
College in the evening, where we had a quiet rubber of whist, and a
little social and intellectual conversation, with maybe an oyster and a
glass of punch, just to season the thing, before we separated; all done
discreetly and quietly--no shouting nor even singing, for the \x91superior\x92
had a prejudice about profane songs.  Well, one of those nights it was,
about the first week in February, I was detained by stress of weather
from 11 o\x92clock, when we usually bade good-night, to past twelve, and
then to one o\x92clock, waiting for a dry moment to get home to the
barracks--a good mile and a half off.  Every time old Father Mahony went
to look at the weather, he came back saying, \x91It\x92s worse it\x92s getting;
such a night of rain, glory be to God, never was seen.\x92  So there was no
good in going out to be drenched to the skin, and I sat quietly waiting,
taking, between times, a little punch, just not to seem impatient, nor
distress their rev\x92rances.  At last it struck two, and I thought--\x91well,
the decanter is empty now, and I think, if I mean to walk, I\x92ve taken
enough for the present;\x92 so, wishing them all manner of happiness, and
pleasant dreams, I stumbled by way down stairs, and set out on my
journey.  I was always in the habit of taking a short cut on my way home,
across the \x91gurt na brocha,\x92 the priest\x92s meadows, as they call them, it
saved nearly half a mile, although, on the present occasion, it exposed
one wofully to the rain, for there was nothing to shelter against the
entire way, not even a tree.  Well, out I set in a half trot, for I staid
so late I was pressed for time; besides, I felt it easier to run than
walk; I\x92m sure I can\x92t tell why; maybe the drop of drink I took got
into my head.  Well, I was just jogging on across the common; the rain
beating hard in my face, and my clothes pasted to me with the wet;
notwithstanding, I was singing to myself a verse of an old song, to
lighten the road, when I heard suddenly a noise near me, like a man
sneezing.  I stopped and listened,--in fact, it was impossible to see
your hand, the night was so dark--but I could hear nothing; the thought
then came over me, maybe it\x92s something \x91not good,\x92 for there were very
ugly stories going about what the priests used to do formerly in these
meadows; and bones were often found in different parts of them.  Just as
I was thinking this, another voice came nearer than the last; it might be
only a sneeze, after all; but in real earnest it was mighty like a groan.
\x91The Lord be about us,\x92 I said to myself, \x91what\x92s this?--have ye the
pass?\x92  I cried out, \x91have ye the pass? or what brings ye walking here,
in nomine patri?\x92 for I was so confused whether it was a \x91sperit\x92 or not,
I was going to address him in Latin--there\x92s nothing equal to the dead
languages to lay a ghost, every body knows.  Faith the moment I said
these words he gave another groan, deeper and more melancholy like than
before.  \x91If it\x92s uneasy ye are,\x92 says I, \x91for any neglect of your
friends,\x92 for I thought he might be in purgatory longer than he thought
convenient, \x91tell me what you wish, and go home peaceably out of the
rain, for this weather can do no good to living or dead; go home,\x92 said
I, \x91and, if it\x92s masses ye\x92d like, I\x92ll give you a day\x92s pay myself,
rather than you should fret yourself this way.\x92  The words were not well
out of my mouth, when he came so near me that the sigh he gave went right
through both my ears; \x91the Lord be merciful to me,\x92 said I, trembling.
\x91Amen,\x92 says he, \x91whether you\x92re joking or not.\x92  The moment he said that
my mind was relieved, for I knew it was not a sperit, and I began to
laugh heartily at my mistake; \x91and who are ye at all?\x92 said I, \x91that\x92s
roving about, at this hour of the night, ye can\x92t be Father Luke, for I
left him asleep on the carpet before I quitted the college, and faith, my
friend, if you hadn\x92t the taste for divarsion ye would not be out now?\x92
He coughed then so hard that I could not make out well what he said, but
just perceived that he had lost his way on the common, and was a little
disguised in liquor.  \x91It\x92s a good man\x92s case,\x92 said I, \x91to take a little
too much, though it\x92s what I don\x92t ever do myself; so, take a hold of my
hand, and I\x92ll see you safe.\x92  I stretched out my hand, and got him, not
by the arm, as I hoped, but by the hair of the head, for he was all
dripping with wet, and had lost his hat.  \x91Well, you\x92ll not be better of
this night\x92s excursion,\x92 thought I, \x91if ye are liable to the rheumatism;
and, now, whereabouts do you live, my friend, for I\x92ll see you safe,
before I leave you?\x92  What he said then I never could clearly make out,
for the wind and rain were both beating so hard against my face that I
could not hear a word; however, I was able just to perceive that he was
very much disguised in drink, and spoke rather thick.  \x91Well, never
mind,\x92 said I, \x91it\x92s not a time of day for much conversation; so, come
along, and I\x92ll see you safe in the guard-house, if you can\x92t remember
your own place of abode in the meanwhile.\x92  It was just at the moment I
said this that I first discovered he was not a gentleman.  Well, now,
you\x92d never guess how I did it; and, faith I always thought it a very
cute thing of me, and both of us in the dark.\x94

\x93Well, I really confess it must have been a very difficult thing, under
the circumstances; pray how did you contrive?\x94 said the major.

\x93Just guess how.\x94

\x93By the tone of his voice perhaps, and his accent,\x94 said Curzon.

\x93Devil a bit, for he spoke remarkably well, considering how far gone he
was in liquor.\x94

\x93Well, probably by the touch of his hand; no bad test.\x94

\x93No; you\x92re wrong again, for it was by the hair I had a hold of him for
fear of falling, for he was always stooping down.  Well, you\x92d never
guess it; it was just by the touch of his foot.\x94

\x93His foot!  Why how did that give you any information?\x94

\x93There it is now; that\x92s just what only an Irishman would ever have made
any thing out of; for while he was stumbling about, he happened to tread
upon my toes, and never, since I was born, did I feel any thing like the
weight of him.  \x91Well,\x92 said I, \x91the loss of your hat may give you a
cold, my friend; but upon my conscience you are in no danger of wet feet
with such a pair of strong brogues as you have on you.\x92  Well, he laughed
at that till I thought he\x92d split his sides, and, in good truth, I could
not help joining in the fun, although my foot was smarting like mad, and
so we jogged along through the rain, enjoying the joke just as if we were
sitting by a good fire, with a jorum of punch between us.  I am sure I
can\x92t tell you how often we fell that night, but my clothes the next
morning were absolutely covered with mud, and my hat crushed in two; for
he was so confoundedly drunk it was impossible to keep him up, and he
always kept boring along with his head down, so that my heart was almost
broke in keeping him upon his legs.  I\x92m sure I never had a more
fatiguing march in the whole Peninsula, than that blessed mile and a
half; but every misfortune has an end at last, and it was four o\x92clock,
striking by the college clock, as we reached the barracks.  After
knocking a couple of times, and giving the countersign, the sentry opened
the small wicket, and my heart actually leaped with joy that I had done
with my friend; so, I just called out the sergeant of the guard, and
said, \x91will you put that poor fellow on the guard-bed till morning, for I
found him on the common, and he could neither find his way home nor tell
me where he lived.\x92  \x91And where is he?\x92 said the sergeant.  \x91He\x92s outside
the gate there,\x92 said I, \x91wet to the skin, and shaking as if he had the
ague.\x92  \x91And is this him?\x92 said the sergeant as we went outside.  \x91It
is,\x92 said I, \x91maybe you know him?\x92  \x91Maybe I\x92ve a guess,\x92 said he,
bursting into a fit of laughing, that I thought he\x92d choke with.  \x91Well,
sergeant,\x92 said I, \x91I always took you for a humane man; but, if that\x92s
the way you treat a fellow-creature in distress.\x92  \x91A fellow-creature,\x92
said he, laughing louder than before.  \x91Ay, a fellow-creature,\x92 said I
--for the sergeant was an orangeman--\x91and if he differs from you in
matters of religion, sure he\x92s your fellow-creature still.\x92  \x91Troth,
Doctor, I think there\x92s another trifling difference betune us,\x92 said he.
\x91Damn your politics,\x92 said I; \x91never let them interfere with true
humanity.\x92 Wasn\x92t I right, Major?  \x91Take good care of him, and there\x92s a
half-a-crown for ye.\x92  So saying these words, I steered along by the
barrack wall, and, after a little groping about, got up stairs to my
quarters, when, thanks to a naturally good constitution, and regular
habits of life, I soon fell fast asleep.\x94

When the Doctor had said thus much, he pushed his chair slightly from the
table, and, taking off his wine, looked about him with the composure of a
man who has brought his tale to a termination.

\x93Well, but Doctor,\x94 said the Major, \x93you are surely not done.  You have
not yet told us who your interesting friend turned out to be.\x94

\x93That\x92s the very thing, then, I\x92m not able to do.\x94

\x93But, of course,\x94 said another, \x93your story does not end there.\x94

\x93And where the devil would you have it end?\x94 replied he.  \x93Didn\x92t I bring
my hero home, and go asleep afterwards myself, and then, with virtue
rewarded, how could I finish it better?\x94

\x93Oh, of course; but still you have not accounted for a principal
character in the narrative,\x94 said I.

\x93Exactly so,\x94 said Curzon.  \x93We were all expecting some splendid
catastrophe in the morning; that your companion turned out to be the Duke
of Leinster, at least--or perhaps a rebel general, with an immense price
upon his head.\x94

\x93Neither the one nor the other,\x94 said Fin, drily.

\x93And do you mean to say there never was any clue to the discovery of
him?\x94

\x93The entire affair is wrapt in mystery to this hour,\x94 said he.  \x93There
was a joke about it, to be sure, among the officers; but the North Cork
never wanted something to laugh at.\x94

\x93And what was the joke?\x94 said several voices together.

\x93Just a complaint from old Mickey Oulahan, the postmaster, to the
Colonel, in the morning, that some of the officers took away his blind
mare off the common, and that the letters were late in consequence.\x94

\x93And so, Doctor,\x94 called out seven or eight, \x93your friend turned out to
be--\x94

\x93Upon my conscience they said so, and that rascal, the serjeant, would
take his oath of it; but my own impression I\x92ll never disclose to the
hour of my death.\x94



CHAPTER XVI.

THEATRICALS.

Our seance at the mess that night was a late one, for after we had
discussed some coopers of claret, there was a very general public feeling
in favour of a broiled bone and some devilled kidneys, followed by a very
ample bowl of bishop, over which simple condiments we talked \x93green room\x94
 till near the break of day.

From having been so long away from the corps I had much to learn of their
doings and intentions to do, and heard with much pleasure that they
possessed an exceedingly handsome theatre, well stocked with scenery,
dresses, and decorations; that they were at the pinnacle of public
estimation, from what they had already accomplished, and calculated on
the result of my appearance to crown them with honour.  I had indeed very
little choice left me in the matter; for not only had they booked me for
a particular part, but bills were already in circulation, and sundry
little three-cornered notes enveloping them, were sent to the elite of
the surrounding country, setting forth that \x93on Friday evening the
committee of the garrison theatricals, intending to perform a dress
rehearsal of the \x91Family Party,\x92 request the pleasure of Mr. ____ and
Mrs. ____\x92s company on the occasion.  Mr. Lorrequer will undertake the
part of Captain Beauguarde.  Supper at twelve.  An answer will oblige.\x94

The sight of one of these pleasant little epistles, of which the
foregoing is a true copy--was presented to me as a great favour that
evening, it having been agreed upon that I was to know nothing of their
high and mighty resolves till the following morning.  It was to little
purpose that I assured them all, collectively and individually, that of
Captain Beauguarde I absolutely knew nothing--had never read the piece
--nor even seen it performed.  I felt, too, that my last appearance in
character in a \x93Family Party,\x94 was any thing but successful; and I
trembled lest, in the discussion of the subject, some confounded allusion
to my adventure at Cheltenham might come out.  Happily they seemed all
ignorant of this; and fearing to bring conversation in any way to the
matter of my late travels, I fell in with their humour, and agreed that
if it were possible, in the limited time allowed me to manage it--I had
but four days--I should undertake the character.  My concurrence failed
to give the full satisfaction I expected, and they so habitually did what
they pleased with me, that, like all men so disposed, I never got the
credit for concession which a man more niggardly of his services may
always command.

\x93To be sure you will do it, Harry,\x94 said the Major, \x93why not?  I could
learn the thing myself in a couple of hours, as for that.\x94

Now, be it known that the aforesaid Major was so incorrigibly slow of
study, and dull of comprehension, that he had been successively degraded
at our theatrical board from the delivering of a stage message to the
office of check-taker.

\x93He\x92s so devilish good in the love scene,\x94 said the junior ensign, with
the white eyebrows.  \x93I say, Curzon, you\x92ll be confoundedly jealous
though, for he is to play with Fanny.\x94

\x93I rather think not,\x94 said Curzon, who was a little tipsy.

\x93Oh, yes,\x94 said Frazer, \x93Hepton is right.  Lorrequer has Fanny for his
\x91Frou;\x92 and, upon my soul, I should feel tempted to take the part myself
upon the same terms; though I verily believe I should forget I was
acting, and make fierce love to her on the stage.\x94

\x93And who may la charmante Fanny be?\x94 said I, with something of the air of
the \x93Dey of Algiers\x94 in my tone.

\x93Let Curzon tell him,\x94 said several voices together, \x93he is the only man
to do justice to such perfection.\x94

\x93Quiz away, my merry men,\x94 said Cruzon, \x93all I know is, that you are a
confoundedly envious set of fellows; and if so lovely a girl had thrown
her eyes on one amongst you--\x94

\x93Hip! hip! hurrah!\x94 said old Fitzgerald, \x93Curzon is a gone man.  He\x92ll be
off to the palace for a license some fine morning, or I know nothing of
such matters.\x94

\x93Well, Bat,\x94 said I, \x93if matters are really as you all say, why does not
Curzon take the part you destine for me?\x94

\x93We dare not trust him,\x94 said the Major, \x93Lord bless you, when the
call-boy would sing out for Captain Beaugarde in the second act, we\x92d
find that he had Levanted with our best slashed trowsers, and a bird of
paradise feather in his cap.\x94

\x93Well,\x94 thought I, \x93this is better at least than I anticipated, for if
nothing else offers, I shall have rare fun teasing my friend Charley\x94
 --for it was evident that he had been caught by the lady in question.

\x93And so you\x92ll stay with us; give me your hand--you are a real trump.\x94
 These words, which proceeded from a voice at the lower end of the table,
were addressed to my friend Finucane.

\x93I\x92ll stay with ye, upon my conscience,\x94 said Fin; \x93ye have a most
seductive way about ye; and a very superior taste in milk punch.\x94

\x93But, Doctor,\x94 said I, \x93you must not be a drone in the hive; what will ye
do for us?  You should be a capital Sir Lucius O\x92Trigger, if we could get
up the Rivals.\x94

\x93My forte is the drum--the big drum; put me among what the Greeks call
the \x91Mousikoi,\x92 and I\x92ll astonish ye.\x94

It was at once agreed that Fin should follow the bent of his genius; and
after some other arrangements for the rest of the party, we separated for
the night, having previously toasted the \x93Fanny,\x94 to which Curzon
attempted to reply, but sank, overpowered by punch and feelings, and
looked unutterable things, without the power to frame a sentence.

During the time which intervened between the dinner and the night
appointed for our rehearsal, I had more business upon my hands than a
Chancellor of the Exchequer the week of the budget being produced.  The
whole management of every department fell, as usual, to my share, and
all those who, previously to my arrival, had contributed their quota of
labour, did nothing whatever now but lounge about the stage, or sit half
the day in the orchestra, listening to some confounded story of
Finucane\x92s, who contrived to have an everlasting mob of actors,
scene-painters, fiddlers, and call-boys always about him, who, from their
uproarious mirth, and repeated shouts of merriment, nearly drove me
distracted, as I stood almost alone and unassisted in the whole
management.  Of la belle Fanny, all I learned was, that she was a
professional actress of very considerable talent, and extremely pretty;
that Curzon had fallen desperately in love with her the only night she
had appeared on the boards there, and that to avoid his absurd
persecution of her, she had determined not to come into town until the
morning of the rehearsal, she being at that time on a visit to the house
of a country gentleman in the neighbourhood.  Here was a new difficulty I
had to contend with--to go through my part alone was out of the question
to making it effective; and I felt so worried and harassed that I often
fairly resolved on taking the wings of the mail, and flying away to the
uttermost parts of the south of Ireland, till all was tranquil again.
By degrees, however, I got matters into better train, and by getting our
rehearsal early before Fin appeared, as he usually slept somewhat later
after his night at mess, I managed to have things in something like
order; he and his confounded drum, which, whenever he was not
story-telling, he was sure to be practising on, being, in fact the
greatest difficulties opposed to my managerial functions.  One property
he possessed, so totally at variance with all habits of order, that it
completely baffled me.  So numerous were his narratives, that no
occasion could possibly arise, no chance expression be let fall on the
stage, but Fin had something he deemed, apropos, and which, sans facon,
he at once related for the benefit of all whom it might concern; that
was usually the entire corps dramatique, who eagerly turned from stage
directions and groupings, to laugh at his ridiculous jests.  I shall
give an instance of this habit of interruption, and let the unhappy
wight who has filled such an office as mine pity my woes.

I was standing one morning on the stage drilling my \x93corps\x94 as usual.
One most refractory spirit, to whom but a few words were entrusted, and
who bungled even those, I was endeavouring to train into something like
his part.

\x93Come now, Elsmore, try it again--just so.  Yes, come forward in this
manner--take her hand tenderly--press it to your lips; retreat towards
the flat, and then bowing deferentially--thus, say \x91Good night, good
night\x92--that\x92s very simple, eh?  Well, now that\x92s all you have to do, and
that brings you over here--so you make your exit at once.\x94

\x93Exactly so, Mr. Elsmore, always contrive to be near the door under such
circumstances.  That was the way with my poor friend, Curran.  Poor
Philpot, when he dined with the Guild of Merchant Tailors, they gave him
a gold box with their arms upon it--a goose proper, with needles saltier
wise, or something of that kind; and they made him free of their \x91ancient
and loyal corporation,\x92 and gave him a very grand dinner.  Well, Curran
was mighty pleasant and agreeable, and kept them laughing all night, till
the moment he rose to go away, and then he told them that he never spent
so happy an evening, and all that.  \x91But, gentlemen,\x92 said he, \x91business
has its calls, and I must tear myself away; so wishing you now\x92--there
were just eighteen of them--\x91wishing you now every happiness and
prosperity, permit me to take my leave\x92--and here he stole near the door
--\x91to take my leave, and bid you both good night.\x92\x94  With a running fire
of such stories, it may be supposed how difficult was my task in getting
any thing done upon the stage.

Well, at last the long-expected Friday arrived, and I rose in the morning
with all that peculiar tourbillon of spirits that a man feels when he is
half pleased and whole frightened with the labour before him.  I had
scarcely accomplished dressing when a servant tapped at my door, and
begged to know if I could spare a few moments to speak to Miss Ersler,
who was in the drawing-room.  I replied, of course, in the affirmative,
and, rightly conjecturing that my fair friend must be the lovely Fanny
already alluded to, followed the servant down stairs.

\x93Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said the servant, and closing the door behind me, left
me in sole possession of the lady.

\x93Will you do me the favour to sit here, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said one of the
sweetest voices in the world, as she made room for me on the sofa beside
her.  \x93I am particularly short-sighted; so pray sit near me, as I really
cannot talk to any one I don\x92t see.\x94

I blundered out some platitude of a compliment to her eyes--the fullest
and most lovely blue that ever man gazed into--at which she smiled as if
pleased, and continued, \x93Now, Mr. Lorrequer, I have really been longing
for your coming; for your friends of the 4_th are doubtless very dashing,
spirited young gentlemen, perfectly versed in war\x92s alarms; but pardon me
if I say that a more wretched company of strolling wretches never graced
a barn.  Now, come, don\x92t be angry, but let me proceed.  Like all amateur
people, they have the happy knack in distributing the characters--to put
every man in his most unsuitable position--and then that poor dear thing
Curzon--I hope he\x92s not a friend of yours--by some dire fatality always
plays the lover\x92s parts, ha! ha! ha!  True, I assure you, so that if you
had not been announced as coming this week, I should have left them and
gone off to Bath.\x94

Here she rose and adjusted her brown ringlets at the glass, giving me
ample time to admire one of the most perfect figures I ever beheld.  She
was most becomingly dressed, and betrayed a foot and ancle which for
symmetry and \x93chaussure,\x94 might have challenged the Rue Rivoli itself to
match it.

My first thought was poor Curzon; my second, happy and trice fortunate
Harry Lorrequer.  There was no time, however, for indulgence in such very
pardonable gratulation; so I at once proceeded \x93pour faire l\x92aimable,\x94 to
profess my utter inability to do justice to her undoubted talents, but
slyly added, \x93that in the love making part of the matter she should never
be able to discover that I was not in earnest.\x94  We chatted then gaily for
upwards of an hour, until the arrival of her friend\x92s carriage was
announced, when, tendering me most graciously her hand, she smiled
benignly and saying \x93au revoir, donc,\x94 drove off.

As I stood upon the steps of the hotel, viewing her \x93out of the visible
horizon,\x94 I was joined by Curzon, who evidently, from his self-satisfied
air, and jaunty gait, little knew how he stood in the fair Fanny\x92s
estimation.

\x93Very pretty, very pretty, indeed, deeper and deeper still,\x94 cried he,
alluding to my most courteous salutation as the carriage rounded the
corner, and it lovely occupant kissed her hand once more.  \x93I say Harry,
my friend, you don\x92t think that was meant for you, I should hope?\x94

\x93What! the kiss of the hand?  Yes, faith, but I do.\x94

\x93Well, certainly that is good! why, man, she just saw me coming up that
instant.  She and I--we understand each other--never mind, don\x92t be
cross--no fault of yours, you know.\x94

\x93Ah, so she is taken with you,\x94 said I.  \x93Eh, Charley?\x94

\x93Why, I believe that.  I may confess to you the real state of matters.
She was devilishly struck with me the first time we rehearsed together.
We soon got up a little flirtation; but the other night when I played
Mirabel to her, it finished the affair.  She was quite nervous, and could
scarcely go through with her part.  I saw it, and upon my soul I am sorry
for it; she\x92s a prodigiously fine girl--such lips and such teeth!  Egad
I was delighted when you came; for, you see, I was in a manner obliged
to take one line of character, and I saw pretty plainly where it must
end; and you know with you it\x92s quite different, she\x92ll laugh and chat,
and all that sort of thing, but she\x92ll not be carried away by her
feelings; you understand me?\x94

\x93Oh, perfectly; it\x92s quite different, as you observed.\x94

If I had not been supported internally during this short dialogue by the
recently expressed opinion of the dear Fanny herself upon my friend
Curzon\x92s merits, I think I should have been tempted to take the liberty
of wringing his neck off.  However, the affair was much better as it
stood, as I had only to wait a little with proper patience, and I had no
fears but that my friend Charley would become the hero of a very pretty
episode for the mess.

\x93So I suppose you must feel considerably bored by this kind of thing,\x94 I
said, endeavouring to draw him out.

\x93Why, I do,\x94 replied he, \x93and I do not.  The girl is very pretty.  The
place is dull in the morning; and altogether it helps to fill up time.\x94

\x93Well,\x94 said I, \x93you are always fortunate, Curzon.  You have ever your
share of what floating luck the world affords.\x94

\x93It is not exactly all luck, my dear friend; for, as I shall explain to
you--\x94

\x93Not now,\x94 replied I, \x93for I have not yet breakfasted.\x94  So saying I
turned into the coffee-room, leaving the worthy adjutant to revel in his
fancied conquest, and pity such unfortunates as myself.

After an early dinner at the club-house, I hastened down to the theatre,
where numerous preparations for the night were going forward.  The
green-room was devoted to the office of a supper-room, to which the
audience had been invited.  The dressing-rooms were many of them filled
with the viands destined for the entertainment.  Where, among the wooden
fowls and \x93impracticable\x94 flagons, were to be seen very imposing pasties
and flasks of champaigne, littered together in most admirable disorder.
The confusion naturally incidental to all private theatricals, was
ten-fold increased by the circumstances of our projected supper.  Cooks
and scene-shifters, fiddlers and waiters, were most inextricably
mingled; and as in all similar cases, the least important functionaries
took the greatest airs upon them, and appropriated without hesitation
whatever came to their hands--thus the cook would not have scrupled to
light a fire with the violoncello of the orchestra; and I actually
caught one of the \x93gens de cuisine\x94 making a \x93soufflet\x94 in a brass
helmet I had once worn when astonishing the world as Coriolanus.

Six o\x92clock struck.  In another short hour and we begin, thought I, with
a sinking heart, as I looked upon the littered stage crowded with hosts
of fellows that had nothing to do there.  Figaro himself never wished for
ubiquity more than I did, as I hastened from place to place, entreating,
cursing, begging, scolding, execrating, and imploring by turns.  To mend
the matter, the devils in the orchestra had begun to tune their
instruments, and I had to bawl like a boatswain of a man-of-war, to be
heard by the person beside me.

As seven o\x92clock struck, I peeped through the small aperture in the
curtain, and saw, to my satisfaction, mingled, I confess, with fear, that
the house was nearly filled--the lower tier of boxes entirely so.  There
were a great many ladies handsomely dressed, chatting gaily with their
chaperons, and I recognised some of my acquaintances on every side; in
fact, there was scarcely a family of rank in the county that had not at
least some member of it present.  As the orchestra struck up the overture
to Don Giovanni, I retired from my place to inspect the arrangements
behind.

Before the performance of the \x93Family Party,\x94 we were to have a little
one-act piece called \x93a day in Madrid,\x94 written by myself--the principal
characters being expressly composed for \x93Miss Ersler and Mr. Lorrequer.\x94

The story of this trifle, it is not necessary to allude to; indeed, if it
were, I should scarcely have patience to do so, so connected is my
recollection of it with the distressing incident which followed.

In the first scene of the piece, the curtain rising displays la belle
Fanny sitting at her embroidery in the midst of a beautiful garden,
surrounded with statues, fountains, &c. At the back is seen a pavillion
in the ancient Moorish style of architecture, over which hang the
branches of some large and shady trees--she comes forward, expressing her
impatience at the delay of her lover, whose absence she tortures herself
to account for by a hundred different suppositions, and after a very
sufficient expose of her feelings, and some little explanatory details of
her private history, conveying a very clear intimation of her own
amiability, and her guardian\x92s cruelty, she proceeds, after the fashion
of other young ladies similarly situated, to give utterance to her
feelings by a song; after, therefore, a suitable prelude from the
orchestra, for which, considering the impassioned state of her mind, she
waits patiently, she comes forward and begins a melody--

          \x93Oh why is he far from the heart that adores him?\x94

in which, for two verses, she proceeds with sundry sol feggio\x92s, to
account for the circumstances, and show her disbelief of the explanation
in a very satisfactory manner,--meanwhile, for I must not expose my
reader to an anxiety on my account, similar to what the dear Fanny here
laboured under, I was making the necessary preparations for flying to her
presence, and clasping her to my heart--that is to say, I had already
gummed on a pair of mustachios, had corked and arched a ferocious pair of
eyebrows, which, with my rouged cheeks, gave me a look half  Whiskerando,
half Grimaldi; these operations were performed, from the stress of
circumstances, sufficiently near the object of my affections, to afford
me the pleasing satisfaction of hearing from her own sweet lips, her
solicitude about me--in a word, all the dressing-rooms but two were
filled with hampers of provisions, glass, china, and crockery, and from
absolute necessity, I had no other spot where I could attire myself
unseen, except in the identical pavillion already alluded to--here,
however, I was quite secure, and had abundant time also, for I was not to
appear till scene the second, when I was to come forward in full Spanish
costume, \x93every inch a Hidalgo.\x94  Meantime, Fanny had been singing--

\x93Oh why is he far,\x94 &c. &c.

At the conclusion of the last verse, just as she repeats the words \x93why,
why, why,\x94 in a very distracted and melting cadence, a voice behind
startles her--she turns and beholds her guardian--so at least run the
course of events in the real drama--that it should follow thus now
however, \x93Dus aliter visum\x94--for just as she came to the very moving
apostrophe alluded to, and called out, \x93why comes he not?\x94--a gruff voice
from behind answered in a strong Cork brogue--\x93ah! would ye have him come
in a state of nature?\x94 at the instant a loud whistle rang through the
house, and the pavillion scene slowly drew up, discovering me, Harry
Lorrequer, seated on a small stool before a cracked looking-glass, my
only habiliments, as I am an honest man, being a pair of long white silk
stockings, and a very richly embroidered shirt with point lace collar.
The shouts of laughter are yet in my ears, the loud roar of
inextinguishable mirth, which after the first brief pause of astonishment
gave way, shook the entire building--my recollection may well have been
confused at such a moment of unutterable shame and misery; yet, I clearly
remember seeing Fanny, the sweet Fanny herself, fall into an arm-chair
nearly suffocated with convulsions of laughter.  I cannot go on; what I
did I know not.  I suppose my exit was additionally ludicrous, for a new
eclat de rire followed me out.  I rushed out of the theatre, and wrapping
only my cloak round me, ran without stopping to the barracks.  But I must
cease; these are woes too sacred for even confessions like mine, so let
me close the curtain of my room and my chapter together, and say, adieu
for a season.



CHAPTER XVIb.

[Note: There are two Chapter XVIs.  In the table of contents, this one
has an asterisk but no explanation.]

THE WAGER.

It might have been about six weeks after the events detailed in my last
chapter had occurred, that Curzon broke suddenly into my room one morning
before I had risen, and throwing a precautionary glance around, as if to
assure himself that we were alone, seized my hand with a most unusual
earnestness, and, steadfastly looking at me, said--

\x93Harry Lorrequer, will you stand by me?\x94

So sudden and unexpected was his appearance at the moment, that I really
felt but half awake, and kept puzzling myself for an explanation of the
scene, rather than thinking of a reply to his question; perceiving which,
and auguring but badly from my silence, he continued--

\x93Am I then, really deceived in what I believed to be an old and tried
friend?\x94

\x93Why, what the devil\x92s the matter?\x94 I cried out.  \x93If you are in a
scrape, why of course you know I\x92m your man; but, still, it\x92s only fair
to let one know something of the matter in the meanwhile.\x94

\x93In a scrape!\x94 said he, with a long-drawn sigh, intended to beat the
whole Minerva press in its romantic cadence.

\x93Well, but get on a bit,\x94 said I, rather impatiently; \x93who is the fellow
you\x92ve got the row with?  Not one of ours, I trust?\x94

\x93Ah, my dear Hal,\x94 said he, in the same melting tone as before--\x93How your
imagination does run upon rows, and broils, and duelling rencontres,\x94
 (he, the speaker, be it known to the reader, was the fire-eater of the
regiment,) \x93as if life had nothing better to offer than the excitement of
a challenge, or the mock heroism of a meeting.\x94

As he made a dead pause here, after which he showed no disposition to
continue, I merely added--

\x93Well, at this rate of proceeding we shall get at the matter in hand, on
our way out to Corfu, for I hear we are the next regiment for the
Mediterranean.\x94

The observation seemed to have some effect in rousing him from his
lethargy, and he added--

\x93If you only knew the nature of the attachment, and how completely all my
future hopes are concerned upon the issue--\x94

\x93Ho!\x94 said I, \x93so it\x92s a money affair, is it?  and is it old Watson has
issued the writ?  I\x92ll bet a hundred.\x94

\x93Well, upon my soul, Lorrequer,\x94 said he, jumping from his chair, and
speaking with more energy than he had before evinced, \x93you are, without
exception, the most worldly-minded, cold-blooded fellow I ever met.  What
have I said that could have led you to suppose I had either a duel or a
law-suit upon my hands this morning?  Learn, once and for all, man, that
I am in love--desperately and over head and ears in love.\x94

\x93Et puis,\x94 said I coolly.

\x93And intend to marry immediately.\x94

\x93Oh, very well,\x94 said I; \x93the fighting and debt will come later, that\x92s
all.  But to return--now for the lady.\x94

\x93Come, you must make a guess.\x94

\x93Why, then, I really must confess my utter inability; for your attentions
have been so generally and impartially distributed since our arrival
here, that it may be any fair one, from your venerable partner at whist
last evening, to Mrs. Henderson, the pastry-cook inclusive, for whose
macaroni and cherry-brandy your feelings have been as warm as they are
constant.\x94

\x93Come, no more quizzing, Hal.  You surely must have remarked that lovely
girl I waltzed with at Power\x92s ball on Tuesday last.\x94

\x93Lovely girl!  Why, in all seriousness, you don\x92t mean the small woman
with the tow wig?\x94

\x93No, I do not mean any such thing--but a beautiful creature, with the
brightest locks in Christendom--the very light-brown waving ringlets,
Dominicheno loved to paint, and a foot--did you see her foot?\x94

\x93No; that was rather difficult, for she kept continually bobbing up and
down, like a boy\x92s cork-float in a fish-pond.\x94

\x93Stop there.  I shall not permit this any longer--I came not here to
listen to--\x94

\x93But, Curzon, my boy, you\x92re not angry?\x94

\x93Yes, sir, I am angry.\x94

\x93Why, surely, you have not been serious all this time?\x94

\x93And why not, pray?\x94

\x93Oh! I don\x92t exactly know--that is, faith I scarcely thought you were in
earnest, for if I did, of course I should honestly have confessed to you
that the lady in question struck me as one of the handsomest persons I
ever met.\x94

\x93You think so really, Hal?\x94

\x93Certainly I do, and the opinion is not mine alone; she is, in fact
universally admired.\x94

\x93Come, Harry, excuse my bad temper.  I ought to have known you better
--give me your hand, old boy, and wish me joy, for with you aiding and
abetting she is mine to-morrow morning.\x94

I wrung his hand heartily--congratulating myself, meanwhile, how happily
I had got out of my scrape; as I now, for the first time, perceived that
Curzon was bona fide in earnest.

\x93So, you will stand by me, Hal,\x94 said he.

\x93Of course.  Only show me how, and I\x92m perfectly at your service.
Any thing from riding postillion on the leaders to officiating as
brides-maid, and I am your man.  And if you are in want of such a
functionary, I shall stand in \x91loco parentis\x92 to the lady, and give her
away with as much \x91onction\x92 and tenderness as tho\x92 I had as many
marriageable daughters as king Priam himself.  It is with me in marriage
as in duelling--I\x92ll be any thing rather than a principal; and I have
long since disapproved of either method as a means of \x91obtaining
satisfaction.\x92\x94

\x93Ah, Harry, I shall not be discouraged by your sneers.  You\x92ve been
rather unlucky, I\x92m aware; but now to return:  Your office, on this
occasion, is an exceedingly simple one, and yet that which I could only
confide to one as much my friend as yourself.  You must carry my dearest
Louisa off.\x94

\x93Carry her off!  Where?--when?--how?\x94

\x93All that I have already arranged, as you shall hear.\x94

\x93Yes.  But first of all please to explain why, if going to run away with
the lady, you don\x92t accompany her yourself.\x94

\x93Ah!  I knew you would say that, I could have laid a wager you\x92d ask that
question, for it is just that very explanation will show all the native
delicacy and feminine propriety of my darling Loo; and first, I must tell
you, that old Sir Alfred Jonson, her father, has some confounded
prejudice against the army, and never would consent to her marriage with
a red-coat--so that, his consent being out of the question, our only
resource is an elopement.  Louisa consents to this, but only upon one
condition--and this she insists upon so firmly--I had almost said
obstinately--that, notwithstanding all my arguments and representations,
and even entreaties against it, she remains inflexible; so that I have at
length yielded, and she is to have her own way.\x94

\x93Well, and what is the condition she lays such stress upon?\x94

\x93Simply this--that we are never to travel a mile together until I obtain
my right to do so, by making her my wife.  She has got some trumpery
notions in her head that any slight transgression over the bounds of
delicacy made by women before marriage is ever after remembered by the
husband to their disadvantage, and she is, therefore, resolved not to
sacrifice her principle even at such a crisis as the present.\x94

\x93All very proper, I have no doubt; but still, pray explain what I
confess appears somewhat strange to me at present.  How does so very
delicately-minded a person reconcile herself to travelling with a perfect
stranger under such circumstances?\x94

\x93That I can explain perfectly to you.  You must know that when my darling
Loo consented to take this step, which I induced her to do with the
greatest difficulty, she made the proviso I have just mentioned; I at
once showed her that I had no maiden aunt or married sister to confide
her to at such a moment, and what was to be done?  She immediately
replied, \x91Have you no elderly brother officer, whose years and discretion
will put the transaction in such a light as to silence the slanderous
tongues of the world, for with such a man I am quite ready and willing to
trust myself.\x92  You see I was hard pushed there.  What could I do?--whom
could I select?  Old Hayes, the paymaster, is always tipsy; Jones is
five-and-forty--but egad!  I\x92m not so sure I\x92d have found my betrothed at
the end of the stage.  You were my only hope; I knew I could rely upon
you.  You would carry on the whole affair with tact and discretion; and
as to age, your stage experience would enable you, with a little
assistance from costume, to pass muster; besides that, I have always
represented you as the very Methuselah of the corps; and in the grey dawn
of an autumnal morning--with maiden bashfulness assisting--the scrutiny
is not likely to be a close one.  So, now, your consent is alone wanting
to complete the arrangements which, before this time to-morrow, shall
have made me the happiest of mortals.\x94

Having expressed, in fitting terms, my full sense of obligation for the
delicate flattery with which he pictured me as \x93Old Lorrequer\x94 to the
Lady, I begged a more detailed account of his plan, which I shall shorten
for my reader\x92s sake, by the following brief expose.

A post-chaise and four was to be in waiting at five o\x92clock in the
morning to convey me to Sir Alfred Jonson\x92s residence, about twelve miles
distant.  There I was to be met by a lady at the gate-lodge, who was
subsequently to accompany me to a small village on the Nore, where an old
college friend of Curzon\x92s happened to reside, as parson, and by whom the
treaty was to be concluded.

This was all simple and clear enough--the only condition necessary to
insure success being punctuality, particularly on the lady\x92s part.  As to
mine I readily promised my best aid and warmest efforts in my friend\x92s
behalf.

\x93There is only one thing more,\x94 said Curzon.  \x93Louisa\x92s younger brother
is a devilish hot-headed, wild sort of a fellow; and it would be as well,
just for precaution sake, to have your pistols along with you, if, by any
chance, he should make out what was going forward--not but that you know
if any thing serious was to take place, I should be the person to take
all that upon my hands.\x94

\x93Oh! of course--I understand,\x94 said I.  Meanwhile I could not help
running over in my mind the pleasant possibilities such an adventure
presented, heartily wishing that Curzon had been content to marry by bans
or any other of the legitimate modes in use, without risking his friend\x92s
bones.  The other pros and cons of the matter, with full and accurate
directions as to the road to be taken on obtaining possession of the
lady, being all arranged, we parted, I to settle my costume and
appearance for my first performance in an old man\x92s part, and Curzon to
obtain a short leave for a few days from the commanding officer of the
regiment.

When we again met, which was at the mess-table, it was not without
evidence on either side of that peculiar consciousness which persons feel
who have, or think they have, some secret in common, which the world wots
not of.  Curzon\x92s unusually quick and excited manner would at once have
struck any close observer as indicating the eve of some important step,
no less than continual allusions to whatever was going on, by sly and
equivocal jokes and ambiguous jests.  Happily, however, on the present
occasion, the party were otherwise occupied than watching him--being most
profoundly and learnedly engaged in discussing medicine and matters
medical with all the acute and accurate knowledge which characterises
such discussions among the non-medical public.

The present conversation originated from some mention our senior surgeon
Fitzgerald had just made of a consultation which he was invited to attend
on the next morning, at the distance of twenty miles, and which
necessitated him to start at a most uncomfortably early hour.  While he
continued to deplore the hard fate of such men as himself, so eagerly
sought after by the world, that their own hours were eternally broken in
upon by external claims, the juniors were not sparing of their mirth on
the occasion, at the expense of the worthy doctor, who, in plain truth,
had never been disturbed by a request like the present within any one\x92s
memory.  Some asserted that the whole thing was a puff, got up by Fitz.
himself, who was only going to have a day\x92s partridge-shooting; others
hinting that it was a blind to escape the vigilance of Mrs. Fitzgerald
--a well-known virago in the regiment--while Fitz. enjoyed himself; and
a third party, pretending to sympathise with the doctor, suggested that
a hundred pounds would be the least he could possibly be offered for
such services as his on so grave an occasion.

\x93No, no, only fifty,\x94 said Fitz. gravely.

\x93Fifty!  Why, you tremendous old humbug, you don\x92t mean to say you\x92ll
make fifty pounds before we are out of our beds in the morning?\x94 cried
one.

\x93I\x92ll take your bet on it,\x94 said the doctor, who had, in this instance,
reason to suppose his fee would be a large one.

During this discussion, the claret had been pushed round rather freely;
and fully bent, as I was, upon the adventure before me, I had taken my
share of it as a preparation.  I thought of the amazing prize I was about
to be instrumental in securing for my friend--for the lady had really
thirty thousand pounds--and I could not conceal my triumph at such a
prospect of success in comparison with the meaner object of ambition.
They all seemed to envy poor Fitzgerald.  I struggled with my secret for
some time--but my pride and the claret together got the better of me, and
I called out, \x93Fifty pounds on it, then, that before ten to-morrow
morning, I\x92ll make a better hit of it than you--and the mess shall decide
between us afterwards as to the winner.\x94

\x93And if you will,\x94 said I, seeing some reluctance on Fitz.\x92s part to take
the wager, and getting emboldened in consequence, \x93let the judgment be
pronounced over a couple of dozen of champaigne, paid by the loser.\x94

This was a coup d\x92etat on my part, for I knew at once there were so many
parties to benefit by the bet, terminate which way it might, there could
be no possibility of evading it.  My ruse succeeded, and poor Fitzgerald,
fairly badgered into a wager, the terms of which he could not in the
least comprehend, was obliged to sign the conditions inserted in the
adjutant\x92s note-book--his greatest hope in so doing being in the quantity
of wine he had seen me drink during the evening.  As for myself, the bet
was no sooner made than I began to think upon the very little chance I
had of winning it; for even supposing my success perfect in the
department allotted to me, it might with great reason be doubted what
peculiar benefit I myself derived as a counterbalance to the fee of the
doctor.  For this, my only trust lay in the justice of a decision which I
conjectured would lean more towards the goodness of a practical joke than
the equity of the transaction.  The party at mess soon after separated,
and I wished my friend good night for the last time before meeting him as
a bride-groom.

I arranged every thing in order for my start.  My pistol-case I placed
conspicuously before me, to avoid being forgotten in the haste of
departure; and, having ordered my servant to sit up all night in the
guard-room until he heard the carriage at the barrack-gate, threw myself
on my bed, but not to sleep.  The adventure I was about to engage in
suggested to my mind a thousand associations, into which many of the
scenes I have already narrated entered.  I thought how frequently I had
myself been on the verge of that state which Curzon was about to try, and
how it always happened that when nearest to success, failure had
intervened.  From my very school-boy days my love adventures had the same
unfortunate abruptness in their issue; and there seemed to be something
very like a fatality in the invariable unsuccess of my efforts at
marriage.  I feared, too, that my friend Curzon had placed himself in
very unfortunate hands--if augury were to be relied upon.  Something will
surely happen, thought I, from my confounded ill luck, and all will be
blown up.  Wearied at last with thinking I fell into a sound sleep for
about three-quarters of an hour, at the end of which I was awoke by my
servant informing me that a chaise and four were drawn up at the end of
the barrack lane.

\x93Why, surely, they are too early, Stubber?  It\x92s only four o\x92clock.\x94

\x93Yes, sir; but they say that the road for eight miles is very bad, and
they must go it almost at a walk.\x94

That is certainly pleasant, thought I, but I\x92m in for it now, so can\x92t
help it.

In a few minutes I was up and dressed, and so perfectly transformed by
the addition of a brown scratch-wig and large green spectacles, and a
deep-flapped waistcoat, that my servant, on re-entering my room, could
not recognise me.  I followed him now across the barrack-yard, as, with
my pistol-case under one arm and a lantern in his hand, he proceeded to
the barrack-gate.

As I passed beneath the adjutant\x92s window, I saw a light--the sash was
quickly thrown open, and Curzon appeared.

\x93Is that you, Harry?\x94

\x93Yes--when do you start?\x94

\x93In about two hours.  I\x92ve only eight miles to go--you have upwards of
twelve, and no time to lose.  God bless you, my boy--we\x92ll meet soon.\x94

\x93Here\x92s the carriage, sir; this way.\x94

\x93Well, my lads, you know the road I suppose?\x94

\x93Every inch of it, your honour\x92s glory; we\x92re always coming it for
doctors and \x91pothecaries; they\x92re never a week without them.\x94

I was soon seated, the door clapped to, and the words \x93all right\x94 given,
and away we went.

Little as I had slept during the night, my mind was too much occupied
with the adventure I was engaged in, to permit any thoughts of sleep now,
so that I had abundant opportunity afforded me of pondering over all the
bearings of the case, with much more of deliberation and caution than I
had yet bestowed upon it.  One thing was certain, whether success did or
did not attend our undertaking, the risk was mine and mine only; and if
by any accident the affair should be already known to the family, I stood
a very fair chance of being shot by one of the sons, or stoned to death
by the tenantry; while my excellent friend Curzon should be eating his
breakfast with his reverend friend, and only interrupting himself in his
fourth muffin, to wonder \x93what could keep them;\x94 and besides for minor
miseries will, like the little devils in Don Giovanni, thrust up their
heads among their better-grown brethren, my fifty-pound bet looked rather
blue; for even under the most favourable light considered, however Curzon
might be esteemed a gainer, it might be well doubted how far I had
succeeded better than the doctor, when producing his fee in evidence.
Well, well, I\x92m in for it now; but it certainly is strange, all these
very awkward circumstances never struck me so forcibly before; and after
all, it was not quite fair of Curzon to put any man forward in such a
transaction; the more so, as such a representation might be made of it at
the Horse-Guards as to stop a man\x92s promotion, or seriously affect his
prospects for life, and I at last began to convince myself that many a
man so placed, would carry the lady off himself, and leave the adjutant
to settle the affair with the family.  For two mortal hours did I conjure
up every possible disagreeable contingency that might arise.  My being
mulcted of my fifty and laughed at by the mess seemed inevitable, even
were I fortunate enough to escape a duel with the fire-eating brother.
Meanwhile a thick misty rain continued to fall, adding so much to the
darkness of the early hour, that I could see nothing of the country about
me, and knew nothing of where I was.

Troubles are like laudanum, a small dose only excites, a strong one sets
you to sleep--not a very comfortable sleep mayhap--but still it is sleep,
and often very sound sleep; so it now happened with me.  I had pondered
over, weighed, and considered all the pros, cons, turnings, and windings
of this awkward predicament, till I had fairly convinced myself that I
was on the high road to a confounded scrape; and then, having established
that fact to my entire satisfaction, I fell comfortably back in the
chaise, and sunk into a most profound slumber.

If to any of my readers I may appear here to have taken a very despondent
view of this whole affair, let him only call to mind my invariable ill
luck in such matters, and how always it had been my lot to see myself on
the fair road to success, only up to that point at which it is certain,
besides--but why explain?  These are my confessions.  I may not alter
what are matters of fact, and my reader must only take me with all the
imperfections of wrong motives and headlong impulses upon my head, or
abandon me at once.

Meanwhile the chaise rolled along, and the road being better and the pace
faster, my sleep became more easy; thus, about an hour and a half after I
had fallen asleep, passed rapidly over, when the sharp turning of an
angle distended me from my leaning position, and I awoke.  I started up
and rubbed my eyes; several seconds elapsed before I could think where I
was or whither going.  Consciousness at last came, and I perceived that
we were driving up a thickly planted avenue.  Why, confound it, they
can\x92t have mistaken it, thought I, or are we really going up to the
house, instead of waiting at the lodge?  I at once lowered the sash, and
stretching out my head, cried out, \x93Do you know what ye are about, lads;
is this all right?\x94 but unfortunately, amid the rattling of the gravel
and the clatter of the horses, my words were unheard; and thinking I was
addressing a request to go faster, the villains cracked their whips, and
breaking into a full gallop, before five minutes flew over, they drew up
with a jerk at the foot of a long portico to a large and spacious
cut-stone mansion.  When I rallied from the sudden check, which had nearly
thrown me through the window, I gave myself up for lost: here I was vis a
vis to the very hall-door of the man whose daughter I was about to elope
with, whether so placed by the awkwardness and blundering of the wretches
who drove me, or delivered up by their treachery, it mattered not, my
fate seemed certain; before I had time to determine upon any line of
acting in this confounded dilemma, the door was jerked open by a servant
in a sombre livery; who, protruding his head and shoulders into the
chaise, looked at me steadily for a moment, and said, \x93Ah! then, doctor
darlin\x92, but ye\x92re welcome.\x94  With the speed with which sometimes the bar
of an air long since heard, or the passing glance of an old familiar fact
can call up the memory of our very earliest childhood, bright and vivid
before us, so that one single phrase explained the entire mystery of my
present position, and I saw in one rapid glance that I had got into the
chaise intended for Dr. Fitzgerald, and was absolutely at that moment
before the hall-door of the patient.  My first impulse was an honest one,
to avow the mistake and retrace my steps, taking my chance to settle with
Curzon, whose matrimonial scheme I foresaw was doomed to the untimely
fate of all those I had ever been concerned in.  My next thought, how
seldom is the adage true which says \x93that second thoughts are best,\x94 was
upon my luckless wager; for, even supposing that Fitzgerald should follow
me in the other chaise, yet as I had the start of him, if I could only
pass muster for half an hour, I might secure the fee, and evacuate the
territory; besides that there was a great chance of Fitz\x92s having gone on
my errand, while I was journeying on his, in which case I should be safe
from interruption.  Meanwhile, heaven only could tell, what his
interference in poor Curzon\x92s business might not involve.  These serious
reflections took about ten seconds to pass through my mind, as the
grave-looking old servant proceeded to encumber himself with my cloak
and my pistol-case, remarking as he lifted the latter, \x93And may the Lord
grant ye won\x92t want the instruments this time, doctor, for they say he
is better this morning;\x94 heartily wishing amen to the benevolent prayer
of the honest domestic, for more reasons than one, I descended
leisurely, as I conjectured a doctor ought to do, from the chaise, and
with a solemn pace and grave demeanour followed him into the house.

In the small parlour to which I was ushered, sat two gentlemen somewhat
advanced in years, who I rightly supposed were my medical confreres.  One
of these was a tall, pale, ascetic-looking man, with grey hairs, and
retreating forehead, slow in speech, and lugubrious in demeanour.  The
other, his antithesis, was a short, rosy-cheeked, apoplectic-looking
subject, with a laugh like a suffocating wheeze, and a paunch like an
alderman; his quick, restless eye, and full nether lip denoting more of
the bon vivant than the abstemious disciple of Aesculapius.  A moment\x92s
glance satisfied me, that if I had only these to deal with, I was safe,
for I saw that they were of that stamp of country practitioner,
half-physician, half-apothecary, who rarely come in contact with the
higher orders of their art, and then only to be dictated to, obey, and
grumble.

\x93Doctor, may I beg to intrude myself, Mr. Phipps, on your notice?  Dr.
Phipps or Mr. It\x92s all one; but I have only a license in pharmacy, though
they call me doctor.\x94

\x93Surgeon Riley, sir; a very respectable practitioner,\x94 said he, waving
his hand towards his rubicund confrere.

I at once expressed the great happiness it afforded me to meet such
highly informed and justly celebrated gentlemen; and fearing every moment
the arrival of the real Simon Pure should cover me with shame and
disgrace, begged they would afford me as soon as possible, some history
of the case we were concerned for.  They accordingly proceeded to expound
in a species of duet, some curious particulars of an old gentleman who
had the evil fortune to have them for his doctors, and who laboured under
some swelling of the neck, which they differed as to the treatment of,
and in consequence of which, the aid of a third party (myself, God bless
the mark!) was requested.

As I could by no means divest myself of the fear of Fitz.\x92s arrival, I
pleaded the multiplicity of my professional engagements as a reason for
at once seeing the patient; upon which I was conducted up stairs by my
two brethren, and introduced to a half-lighted chamber.  In a large easy
chair sat a florid-looking old man, with a face in which pain and
habitual ill-temper had combined to absorb every expression.

\x93This is the doctor of the regiment, sir, that you desired to see,\x94 said
my tall coadjutor.

\x93Oh! then very well; good morning, sir.  I suppose you will find out
something new the matter, for them two there have been doing so every
day this two months.\x94

\x93I trust, sir,\x94 I replied stiffly, \x93that with the assistance of my
learned friends, much may be done for you.  Ha! hem! So this is the
malady.  Turn your head a little to that side;\x94 here an awful groan
escaped the sick man, for I, it appears, had made considerable impression
upon rather a delicate part, not unintentionally I must confess; for as I
remembered Hoyle\x92s maxim at whist, \x93when in doubt play a trump,\x94 so I
thought it might be true in physic, when posed by a difficulty to do a
bold thing also.  \x93Does that hurt you, sir?\x94 said I in a soothing and
affectionate tone of voice.  \x93Like the devil,\x94 growled the patient.  \x93And
here?\x94 said I.  \x93Oh! oh! I can\x92t bear it any longer.\x94  \x93Oh!  I perceive,\x94
 said I, \x93the thing is just as I expected.\x94  Here I raised my eyebrows,
and looked indescribably wise at my confreres.

\x93No aneurism, doctor,\x94 said the tall one.

\x93Certainly not.\x94

\x93Maybe,\x94 said the short man, \x93maybe it\x92s a stay-at-home-with-us tumour
after all;\x94 so at least he appeared to pronounce a confounded technical,
which I afterwards learned was \x93steatomatous;\x94 conceiving that my rosy
friend was disposed to jeer at me, I gave him a terrific frown, and
resumed, \x93this must not be touched.\x94

\x93So you won\x92t operate upon it,\x94 said the patient.

\x93I would not take a thousand pounds and do so,\x94 I replied.  \x93Now if you
please gentlemen,\x94 said I, making a step towards the door, as if to
withdraw for consultation; upon which they accompanied me down stairs to
the breakfast-room.  As it was the only time in my life I had performed
in this character, I had some doubts as to the propriety of indulging a
very hearty breakfast appetite, not knowing if it were unprofessional to
eat; but from this doubt my learned friends speedily relieved me, by the
entire devotion which they bestowed for about twenty minutes upon ham,
rolls, eggs, and cutlets, barely interrupting these important occupations
by sly allusions to the old gentleman\x92s malady, and his chance of
recovery.

\x93Well, doctor,\x94 said the pale one, as at length he rested from his
labours, \x93what are we to do?\x94

\x93Ay,\x94 said the other, \x93there\x92s the question.\x94

\x93Go on,\x94 said I, \x93go on as before; I can\x92t advise you better.\x94  Now, this
was a deep stroke of mine; for up to the present moment I do not know
what treatment they were practising; but it looked a shrewd thing to
guess it, and it certainly was civil to approve of it.

\x93So you think that will be best.\x94

\x93I am certain--I know nothing better,\x94 I answered.

\x93Well, I\x92m sure, sir, we have every reason to be gratified for the very
candid manner you have treated us.  Sir, I\x92m your most obedient servant,\x94
 said the fat one.

\x93Gentlemen, both your good healths and professional success also:\x94  here
I swallowed a petit verre of brandy; thinking all the while there were
worse things than the practice of physic.

\x93I hope you are not going,\x94 said one, as my chaise drew up at the door.

\x93Business calls me,\x94 said I, \x93and I can\x92t help it.\x94

\x93Could not you manage to see our friend here again, in a day or two?\x94
 said the rosy one.

\x93I fear it will be impossible,\x94 replied I; \x93besides I have a notion he
may not desire it.\x94

\x93I have been commissioned to hand you this,\x94 said the tall doctor, with a
half sigh, as he put a check into my hand.

I bowed slightly, and stuffed the crumpled paper with a half careless air
into my waistcoat pocket, and wishing them both every species of
happiness and success, shook hands four times with each, and drove off;
never believing myself safe \x91till I saw the gate-lodge behind me, and
felt myself flying on the road to Kilkenny at about twelve miles Irish an
hour.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE ELOPEMENT.

It was past two o\x92clock when I reached the town.  On entering the
barrack-yard, I perceived a large group of officers chatting together,
and every moment breaking into immoderate fits of laughter.  I went over,
and immediately learned the source of their mirth, which was this: No
sooner had it been known that Fitzgerald was about to go to a distance,
on a professional call, than a couple of young officers laid their heads
together, and wrote an anonymous note to Mrs. Fitz. who was the very
dragon of jealousy, informing her, that her husband had feigned the whole
history of the patient and consultation as an excuse for absenting
himself on an excursion of gallantry; and that if she wished to satisfy
herself of the truth of the statement, she had only to follow him in the
morning, and detect his entire scheme; the object of these amiable
friends being to give poor Mrs. Fitz. a twenty miles\x92 jaunt, and confront
her with her injured husband at the end of it.

Having a mind actively alive to suspicions of this nature, the worthy
woman made all her arrangements for a start, and scarcely was the chaise
and four, with her husband, out of the town, than was she on the track of
it, with a heart bursting with jealousy, and vowing vengeance to the
knife, against all concerned in this scheme to wrong her.

So far the plan of her persecutors had perfectly succeeded; they saw her
depart, on a trip of, as they supposed, twenty miles, and their whole
notions of the practical joke were limited to the eclaircissement that
must ensue at the end.  Little, however, were they aware how much more
nearly the suspected crime, was the position of the poor doctor to turn
out; for, as by one blunder I had taken his chaise, so he, without any
inquiry whatever, had got into the one intended for me; and never awoke
from a most refreshing slumber, till shaken by the shoulder by the
postillion, who whispered in his ear--\x93here we are sir; this is the
gate.\x94

\x93But why stop at the gate?  Drive up the avenue, my boy.\x94

\x93His honor told me, sir, not for the world to go farther than the lodge;
nor to make as much noise as a mouse.\x94

\x93Ah! very true.  He may be very irritable, poor man!  Well stop here, and
I\x92ll get out.\x94

Just as the doctor had reached the ground, a very smart-looking soubrette
tripped up, and said to him--

\x93Beg pardon, sir; but you are the gentleman from the barrack, sir?\x94

\x93Yes, my dear,\x94 said Fitz., with a knowing look at the pretty face of the
damsel, \x93what can I do for you?\x94

\x93Why sir, my mistress is here in the shrubbery; but she is so nervous,
and so frightened, I don\x92t know how she\x92ll go through it.\x94

\x93Ah! she\x92s frightened, poor thing; is she?  Oh! she must keep up her
spirits, while there\x92s life there\x92s hope.\x94

\x93Sir.\x94

\x93I say, my darling, she must not give way.  I\x92ll speak to her a little.
Is not he rather advanced in life?\x94

\x93Oh, Lord! no sir.  Only two-and-thirty, my mistress tells me?\x94

\x93Two-and-thirty!  Why I thought he was above sixty.\x94

\x93Above sixty!  Law! sir.  You have a bright fancy.  This is the
gentleman, ma\x92am.  Now sir, I\x92ll just slip aside for a moment, and let
you talk to her.\x94

\x93I am grieved, ma\x92am, that I have not the happiness to make your
acquaintance under happier circumstances.\x94

\x93I must confess, sir--though I am ashamed\x94--

\x93Never be ashamed, ma\x92am.  Your grief, although, I trust causeless, does
you infinite honor.\x94

\x93Upon my soul she is rather pretty,\x94 said the doctor to himself here.

\x93Well, sir! as I have the most perfect confidence in you, from all I have
heard of you, I trust you will not think me abrupt in saying that any
longer delay here is dangerous.\x94

\x93Dangerous!  Is he in so critical a state as that then?\x94

\x93Critical a state, sir!  Why what do you mean?\x94

\x93I mean, ma\x92am, do you think, then, it must be done to-day?\x94

\x93Of course I do, sir, and I shall never leave the spot without your
assuring me of it.\x94

\x93Oh! in that case make your mind easy.  I have the instruments in the
chaise.\x94

\x93The instruments in the chaise!  Really, sir, if you are not jesting--I
trust you don\x92t think this is a fitting time for such--I entreat of you
to speak more plainly and intelligibly.\x94

\x93Jesting, ma\x92am!  I\x92m incapable of jesting at such a moment.\x94

\x93Ma\x92am! ma\x92am!  I see one of the rangers, ma\x92am, at a distance; so don\x92t
lose a moment, but get into the chaise at once.\x94

\x93Well, sir, let us away; for I have now gone too far to retract.\x94

\x93Help my mistress into the chaise, sir.  Lord! what a man it is.\x94

A moment more saw the poor doctor seated beside the young lady, while the
postillions plied whip and spur with their best energy; and the road flew
beneath them.  Meanwhile the delay caused by this short dialogue, enabled
Mrs. Fitz.\x92s slower conveyance to come up with the pursuit, and her
chaise had just turned the angle of the road as she caught a glimpse of a
muslin dress stepping into the carriage with her husband.

There are no words capable of conveying the faintest idea of the feelings
that agitated Mrs. Fitz. at this moment.  The fullest confirmation to her
worst fears was before her eyes--just at the very instant when a doubt
was beginning to cross over her mind that it might have been merely a
hoax that was practised on her, and that the worthy Doctor was innocent
and blameless.  As for the poor Doctor himself, there seemed little
chance of his being enlightened as to the real state of matters; for from
the moment the young lady had taken her place in the chaise, she had
buried her face in her hands, and sobbed continually.  Meanwhile he
concluded that they were approaching the house by some back entrance, to
avoid noise and confusion, and waited, with due patience, for the
journey\x92s end.

As, however, her grief continued unabated, Fitz. at length began to think
of the many little consolatory acts he had successfully practised in his
professional career, and was just insinuating some very tender speech on
the score of resignation, with his head inclined towards the weeping lady
beside him, when the chaise of Mrs. Fitz. came up along-side, and the
postillions having yielded to the call to halt, drew suddenly up,
displaying to the enraged wife the tableau we have mentioned.

\x93So, wretch,\x94 she screamed rather than spoke, \x93I have detected you at
last.\x94

\x93Lord bless me!  Why it is my wife.\x94

\x93Yes, villain! your injured, much-wronged wife!  And you, madam, may I
ask what you have to say for thus eloping with a married man?\x94

\x93Shame!  My dear Jemima,\x94 said Fitz.  \x93how can you possibly permit your
foolish jealousy so far to blind your reason.  Don\x92t you see I am going
upon a professional call?\x94

\x93Oh! you are.  Are you?  Quite professional, I\x92ll be bound.\x94

\x93Oh, sir!  Oh, madam!  I beseech you, save me from the anger of my
relatives, and the disgrace of exposure.  Pray bring me back at once.\x94

\x93Why, my God! ma\x92am, what do you mean?  You are not gone mad, as well as
my wife.\x94

\x93Really, Mr. Fitz.\x94 said Mrs. F. \x93this is carrying the joke too far.
Take your unfortunate victim--as I suppose she is such--home to her
parents, and prepare to accompany me to the barrack; and if there be law
and justice in--\x94

\x93Well! may the Lord in his mercy preserve my senses, or you will both
drive me clean mad.\x94

\x93Oh, dear! oh, dear!\x94 sobbed the young lady, while Mrs. Fitzgerald
continued to upbraid at the top of her voice, heedless of the disclaimers
and protestations of innocence poured out with the eloquence of despair,
by the poor doctor.  Matters were in this state, when a man dressed in a
fustian jacket, like a groom, drove up to the side of the road, in a
tax-cart; he immediately got down, and tearing open the door of the
doctor\x92s chaise, lifted out the young lady, and deposited her safely in
his own conveyance, merely adding--

\x93I say, master, you\x92re in luck this morning, that Mr. William took the
lower road; for if he had come up with you instead of me, he\x92d blow the
roof off your scull, that\x92s all.\x94

While these highly satisfactory words were being addressed to poor Fitz.
Mrs. Fitzgerald had removed from her carriage to that of her husband,
perhaps preferring four horses to two; or perhaps she had still some
unexplained views of the transaction, which might as well be told on the
road homeward.

Whatever might have been the nature of Mrs. F.\x92s dissertation, nothing is
known.  The chaise containing these turtle doves arrived late at night at
Kilkenny, and Fitz. was installed safely in his quarters before any one
knew of his having come back.  The following morning he was reported ill;
and for three weeks he was but once seen, and at that time only at his
window, with a flannel night-cap on his head, looking particularly pale,
and rather dark under one eye.

As for Curzon--the last thing known of him that luckless morning, was his
hiring a post-chaise for the Royal Oak, from whence he posted to Dublin,
and hastened on to England.  In a few days we learned that the adjutant
had exchanged into a regiment in Canada; and to this hour there are not
three men in the __th who know the real secret of that morning\x92s
misadventures.



THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Vol. 3

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.



Volume 3. (Chapter XVIII-XXIII)



Contents:

CHAPTER XVIII
Detachment Duty--An Assize Town

CHAPTER XIX
The Assize Town

CHAPTER XX
A Day in Dublin

CHAPTER XXI
A Night at Howth

CHAPTER XXII
The Journey

CHAPTER XXIII
Calais



CHAPTER XVIII.

DETACHMENT DUTY--AN ASSIZE TOWN.

As there appeared to be but little prospect of poor Fitzgerald ever
requiring any explanation from me as to the events of that morning, for
he feared to venture from his room, lest he might be recognised and
prosecuted for abduction, I thought it better to keep my own secret also;
and it was therefore with a feeling of any thing but regret, that I
received an order which, under other circumstances, would have rendered
me miserable--to march on detachment duty.  To any one at all conversant
with the life we lead in the army, I need not say how unpleasant such a
change usually is.  To surrender your capital mess, with all its
well-appointed equipments--your jovial brother officers--hourly
flirtations with the whole female population--never a deficient one in a
garrison town--not to speak of your matches at trotting, coursing, and
pigeon-shooting, and a hundred other delectable modes of getting over
the ground through life, till it please your ungrateful country and the
Horse Guards to make you a major-general--to surrender all these, I say,
for the noise, dust, and damp disagreeables of a country inn, with bacon
to eat, whiskey to drink, and the priest, or the constabulary chief, to
get drunk with--I speak of Ireland here--and your only affair, par
amours, being the occasional ogling of the apothecary\x92s daughter
opposite, as often as she visits the shop, in the soi disant occupation
of measuring out garden seeds and senna.  These are indeed, the
exchanges with a difference, for which there is no compensation; and,
for my own part, I never went upon such duty, that I did not exclaim
with the honest Irishman, when the mail went over him, \x93Oh, Lord! what
is this for?\x94--firmly believing that in the earthly purgatory of such
duties, I was reaping the heavy retribution attendant on past offences.

Besides, from being rather a crack man in my corps, I thought it somewhat
hard that my turn for such duty should come round about twice as often as
that of my brother officers; but so it is--I never knew a fellow a little
smarter than his neighbours, that was not pounced upon by his colonel for
a victim.  Now, however, I looked at these matters in a very different
light.  To leave head-quarters was to escape being questioned; while
there was scarcely any post to which I could be sent, where something
strange or adventurous might not turn up, and serve me to erase the
memory of the past, and turn the attention of my companions in any
quarter rather than towards myself.

My orders on the present occasion were to march to Clonmel; from whence I
was to proceed a short distance to the house of a magistrate, upon whose
information, transmitted to the Chief Secretary, the present assistance
of a military party had been obtained; and not without every appearance
of reason.  The assizes of the town were about to be held, and many
capital offences stood for trial in the calendar; and as it was strongly
rumoured that, in the event of certain convictions being obtained, a
rescue would be attempted, a general attack upon the town seemed a too
natural consequence; and if so, the house of so obnoxious a person as him
I have alluded to, would be equally certain of being assailed.  Such, at
least, is too  frequently the history of such scenes, beginning with no
one definite object: sometimes a slight one--more ample views and wider
conceptions of mischief follow; and what has begun in a drunken riot--a
casual rencontre--may terminate in the slaughter of a family, or the
burning of a village.  The finest peasantry--God bless them--are a vif
people, and quicker at taking a hint than most others, and have, withal,
a natural taste for fighting, that no acquired habits of other nations
can pretend to vie with.

As the worthy person to whose house I was now about to proceed was, and
if I am rightly informed is, rather a remarkable character in the local
history of Irish politics, I may as well say a few words concerning him.
Mr. Joseph Larkins, Esq.--(for so he signed himself)--had only been
lately elevated to the bench of magistrates.  He was originally one of
that large but intelligent class called in Ireland \x93small farmers;\x94
 remarkable chiefly for a considerable tact in driving hard bargains--a
great skill in wethers--a rather national dislike to pay all species of
imposts, whether partaking of the nature of tax, tithe, grand jury cess,
or any thing of that nature whatsoever.  So very accountable--I had
almost said, (for I have been long quartered in Ireland,) so very
laudable a propensity, excited but little of surprise or astonishment
in his neighbours, the majority of whom entertained very similar views
--none, however, possessing any thing like the able and lawyer-like
ability of the worthy Larkins, for the successful evasion of these
inroads upon the liberty of the subject.  Such, in fact, was his talent,
and so great his success in this respect, that he had established what,
if it did not actually amount to a statute of exemption in law, served
equally well in reality; and for several years he enjoyed a perfect
immunity on the subject of money-paying in general.  His \x93little
houldin\x92,\x94 as he unostentatiously called some five hundred acres of bog,
mountain, and sheep-walk, lay in a remote part of the county, the roads
were nearly impassable for several miles in that direction, land was of
little value; the agent was a timid man, with a large family; of three
tithe-proctors who had penetrated into the forbidden territory, two
laboured under a dyspepsia for life, not being able to digest parchment
and sealing-wax, for they usually dined on their own writs; and the
third gave five pounds out of his pocket, to a large, fresh-looking man,
with brown whiskers and beard, that concealed him two nights in a
hay-loft, to escape the vengeance of the people, which act of
philanthropy should never be forgotten, if some ill-natured people were
not bold enough to say the kind individual in question was no other man
than--

However this may be, true it is that this was the last attempt made to
bring within the responsibilities of the law so refractory a subject; and
so powerful is habit, that although he was to be met with at every market
and cattle-fair in the county, an arrest of his person was no more
contemplated than if he enjoyed the privilege of parliament to go at
large without danger.

When the country became disturbed, and nightly meetings of the peasantry
were constantly held, followed by outrages against life and property to
the most frightful extent, the usual resources of the law were employed
unavailingly.  It was in vain to offer high rewards.  Approvers could not
be found; and so perfectly organized were the secret associations, that
few beyond the very ringleaders knew any thing of consequence to
communicate.  Special commissions were sent down from Dublin; additional
police force, detachments of military; long correspondences took place
between the magistracy and the government--but all in vain.  The
disturbances continued; and at last to such a height had they risen, that
the country was put under martial law; and even this was ultimately found
perfectly insufficient to repel what now daily threatened to become an
open rebellion rather than mere agrarian disturbance.  It was at this
precise moment, when all resources seemed to be fast exhausting
themselves, that certain information reached the Castle, of the most
important nature.  The individual who obtained and transmitted it, had
perilled his life in so doing--but the result was a great one--no less
than the capital conviction and execution of seven of the most
influential amongst the disaffected peasantry.  Confidence was at once
shaken in the secrecy of their associates; distrust and suspicion
followed.  Many of the boldest sunk beneath the fear of betrayal, and
themselves, became evidence for the crown; and in five months, a county
shaken with midnight meetings, and blazing with insurrectionary fires,
became almost the most tranquil in its province.  It may well be
believed, that he who rendered this important service on this trying
emergency, could not be passed over, and the name of J. Larkins soon
after appeared in the Gazette as one of his Majesty\x92s justices of the
peace for the county; pretty much in the same spirit in which a country
gentleman converts the greatest poacher in his neighbourhood by making
him, his gamekeeper.

In person he was a large and powerfully built man, considerably above six
feet in height, and possessing great activity, combined with powers of
enduring fatigue almost incredible.  With an eye like a hawk, and a heart
that never knew fear, he was the person, of all others, calculated to
strike terror into the minds of the country people.  The reckless daring
with which he threw himself into danger--the almost impetuous quickness
with which he followed up a scent, whenever information reached him of an
important character--had their full effect upon a people who, long
accustomed to the slowness and the uncertainty of the law were almost
paralyzed at beholding detection and punishment follow on crime, as
certainly as the thunder-crash follows the lightning.

His great instrument for this purpose was the obtaining information from
sworn members of the secret societies, and whose names never appeared in
the course of a trial or a prosecution, until the measure of their
iniquity was completed, when they usually received a couple of hundred
pounds, blood-money, as it was called, with which they took themselves
away to America or Australia--their lives being only secured while they
remained, by the shelter afforded them in the magistrate\x92s own house.
And so it happened that, constantly there numbered from ten to twelve of
these wretches, inmates of his family, each of whom had the burden of
participation in one murder at least, waiting for an opportunity to leave
the country, unnoticed and unwatched.

Such a frightful and unnatural state of things, can hardly be conceived;
and yet, shocking as it was, it was a relief to that which led to it.  I
have dwelt, perhaps too long upon this painful subject; but let my reader
now accompany me a little farther, and the scene shall be changed.  Does
he see that long, low, white house, with a tall, steep roof, perforated
with innumerable narrow windows.  There are a few straggling beech trees,
upon a low, bleak-looking field before the house, which is called, par
excellence, the lawn; a pig or two, some geese, and a tethered goat are,
here and there musing over the state of Ireland, while some rosy
curly-headed noisy and bare-legged urchins are gamboling before the
door.  This is the dwelling of the worshipful justice, to which myself
and my party were now approaching, with that degree of activity which
attends on most marches of twenty miles, under the oppressive closeness
of a day in autumn.  Fatigued and tired as I was, yet I could not enter
the little enclosure before the house, without stopping for a moment to
admire the view before me.  A large tract of rich country, undulating on
every side, and teeming with corn fields, in all the yellow gold of
ripeness; here and there, almost hid by small clumps of ash and alder,
were scattered some cottages, from which the blue smoke rose in a
curling column into the calm evening\x92s sky.  All was graceful, and
beautifully tranquil; and you might have selected the picture as
emblematic of that happiness and repose we so constantly associate with
our ideas of the country; and yet, before that sun had even set, which
now gilded the landscape, its glories would be replaced by the lurid
glare of nightly incendiarism, and--but here, fortunately for my reader,
and perhaps myself, I am interrupted in my meditations by a rich,
mellifluous accent saying, in the true Doric of the south--

\x93Mr. Loorequer! you\x92re welcome to Curryglass, sir.  You\x92ve had a hot day
for your march.  Maybe you\x92d take a taste of sherry before dinner?  Well
then, we\x92ll not wait for Molowny, but order it up at once.\x94

So saying, I was ushered into a long, low drawing-room, in which were
collected together about a dozen men, to whom I was specially and
severally presented, and among whom I was happy to find my boarding-house
acquaintance, Mr. Daly, who, with the others, had arrived that same day,
for the assizes, and who were all members of the legal profession, either
barristers, attorneys, or clerks of the peace.

The hungry aspect of the convives, no less than the speed with which
dinner made its appearance after my arrival, showed me that my coming was
only waited for to complete the party--the Mr. Molowny before alluded to,
being unanimously voted present.  The meal itself had but slight
pretensions to elegance; there were neither vol au vents, nor croquettes;
neither were there poulets aux truffes, nor cotelletes a la soubise but
in their place stood a lordly fish of some five-and-twenty pounds weight,
a massive sirloin, with all the usual armament of fowls, ham, pigeon-pie,
beef-steak, &c. lying in rather a promiscuous order along either side of
the table.  The party were evidently disposed to be satisfied, and I
acknowledge, I did not prove an exception to the learned individuals
about me, either in my relish for the good things, or my appetite to
enjoy them.  Dulce est desipere in loco, says some one, by which I
suppose is meant, that a rather slang company is occasionally good fun.
Whether from my taste for the \x93humanities\x94 or not, I am unable to say,
but certainly in my then humour, I should not have exchanged my position
for one of much greater pretensions to elegance and ton.  There was first
a general onslaught upon the viands, crashing of plates, jingling of
knives, mingling with requests for \x93more beef,\x94 \x93the hard side of the
salmon,\x94 or \x93another slice of ham.\x94  Then came a dropping fire of
drinking wine, which quickly increased, the decanters of sherry for about
ten minutes resting upon the table, about as long as Taglioni touches
this mortal earth in one of her flying ballets.  Acquaintances were
quickly formed between the members of the bar and myself, and I found
that my momentary popularity was likely to terminate in my downfall; for,
as each introduction was followed by a bumper of strong sherry, I did not
expect to last till the end of the feast.  The cloth at length
disappeared, and I was just thanking Providence for the respite from
hob-nobbing which I imagined was to follow, when a huge, square decanter
of whiskey appeared, flanked by an enormous jug of boiling water, and
renewed preparations for drinking upon a large scale seriously
commenced. It was just at this moment that I, for the first time,
perceived the rather remarkable figure who had waited upon us at dinner,
and who, while I chronicle so many things of little import, deserves a
slight mention. He was a little old man of about fifty-five or sixty
years, wearing upon his head a barrister\x92s wig, and habited in clothes
which originally had been the costume of a very large and bulky person,
and which, consequently, added much to the drollery of his appearance.
He had been, for forty years, the servant of Judge Vandeleur, and had
entered his present service rather in the light of a preceptor than a
menial, invariably dictating to the worthy justice upon every occasion
of etiquette or propriety, by a reference to what \x93the judge himself\x94
 did, which always sufficed to carry the day in Nicholas\x92s favour,
opposition to so correct a standard, never being thought of by the
justice.

\x93That\x92s Billy Crow\x92s own whiskey, the \x91small still,\x92\x94 said Nicholas,
placing the decanter upon the table, \x93make much of it, for there isn\x92t
such dew in the county.\x94

With this commendation upon the liquor, Nicholas departed, and we
proceeded to fill our glasses.

I cannot venture--perhaps it is so much the better that I cannot--to give
any idea of the conversation which at once broke out, as if the barriers
that restrained it had at length given way.  But law talk in all its
plenitude, followed; and for two hours I heard of nothing but writs,
detainers, declarations, traverses in prox, and alibis, with sundry hints
for qui tam processes, interspersed, occasionally, with sly jokes about
packing juries and confusing witnesses, among which figured the usual
number of good things attributed to the Chief Baron O\x92Grady and the other
sayers of smart sayings at the bar.

\x93Ah!\x94 said Mr. Daly, drawing a deep sigh at the same instant--\x93the bar is
sadly fallen off since I was called in the year seventy-six.  There was
not a leader in one of the circuits at that time that couldn\x92t puzzle
any jury that ever sat in a box; and as for driving through an act of
parliament, it was, as Sancho Panza says, cakes and gingerbread to them.
And then, there is one especial talent lost for ever to the present
generation--just like stained glass and illuminated manuscripts, and slow
poisons and the like--that were all known years ago--I mean the beautiful
art of addressing the judge before the jury, and not letting them know
you were quizzing them, if ye liked to do that same.  Poor Peter Purcell
for that--rest his ashes--he could cheat the devil himself, if he had
need--and maybe he has had before now, Peter is sixteen years dead last
November.\x94

\x93And what was Peter\x92s peculiar tact in that respect, Mr. Daly?\x94 said I.

\x93Oh, then I might try for hours to explain it to you in vain; but
I\x92ll just give you an instance that\x92ll show you better than all my
dissertations on the subject, and I was present myself when it happened,
more by token, it was the first time I ever met him on circuit;--\x94

\x93I suppose there is scarcely any one here now, except myself, that
remembers the great cause of Mills versus Mulcahy, a widow and others,
that was tried in Ennis, in the year \x9182.  It\x92s no matter if there is
not.  Perhaps it may be more agreeable for me, for I can tell my story my
own version, and not be interrupted.  Well, that was called the old
record, for they tried it seventeen times.  I believe, on my conscience,
it killed old Jones, who was in the Common Pleas; he used to say, if he
put it for trial on the day of judgment, one of the parties would be sure
to lodge an appeal.  Be that as it may, the Millses engaged Peter
special, and brought him down with a great retainer, in a chaise and
four, flags flying, and favors in the postillions\x92 hats, and a fiddler on
the roof playing the \x91hare in the corn.\x92  The inn was illuminated the
same evening, and Peter made a speech from the windows upon the liberty
of the press and religious freedom all over the globe, and there wasn\x92t a
man in the mob didn\x92t cheer him, which was the more civil, because few of
them knew a word of English, and the others thought he was a play-actor.
But it all went off well, nevertheless, for Peter was a clever fellow;
and although he liked money well, he liked popularity more, and he never
went any where special that he hadn\x92t a public meeting of some kind or
other, either to abolish rents, or suppress parsons, or some such popular
and beneficial scheme, which always made him a great favourite with the
people, and got him plenty of clients.  But I am wandering from the
record.  Purcell came down, as I said before, special for Mills; and when
he looked over his brief, and thought of the case, he determined to have
it tried by a gentlemen jury, for although he was a great man with the
mob, he liked the country gentlemen better in the jury box, for he was
always coming out with quotations from the classics, which, whether the
grand jury understood or not, they always applauded very much.  Well,
when he came into court that morning, you may guess his surprise and
mortification to find that the same jury that had tried a common
ejectment case, were still in the box, and waiting, by the chief
justice\x92s direction, to try Mills versus Mulcahy, the great case of the
assizes.

\x93I hear they were a set of common clod-hopping wretches, with frize coats
and brogues, that no man could get round at all, for they were as cunning
as foxes, and could tell blarney from good sense, rather better than
people with better coats on them.

\x93Now, the moment that Mr. Purcell came into the court, after bowing
politely to the judge, he looked up to the box, and when he saw the dirty
faces of the dealers in pork and potatoes, and the unshaven chins of the
small farmers, his heart fell within him, and he knew in a minute how
little they\x92d care for the classics--if he quoted Caesar\x92s Commentaries
itself for them--ignorant creatures as they were!

\x93Well, the cause was called, and up gets Peter, and he began to
\x91express\x92, (as he always called it himself,) \x91the great distress his
client and himself would labour under, if the patient and most
intelligent jury then on the panel should come to the consideration of so
very tedious a case as this promised to be, after their already most
fatiguing exertions;\x92 he commented upon their absence from their wives
and families, their farms neglected, their crops hazarded, and in about
fifteen minutes he showed them they were, if not speedily released and
sent home, worse treated and harder used than many of the prisoners
condemned to three months imprisonment; and actually so far worked upon
the feelings of the chief himself, that he turned to the foreman of the
jury, and said, \x91that although it was a great deviation from his habitual
practice, if at this pressing season their prospects were involved to the
extent the learned counsel had pictured, why then, that he would so far
bend his practice on this occasion, and they should be dismissed.\x92  Now
Peter, I must confess, here showed the most culpable ignorance in not
knowing that a set of country fellows, put up in a jury box, would rather
let every glade of corn rot in the ground, than give up what they always
supposed so very respectable an appointment; for they invariably imagine
in these cases that they are something very like my lord the judge,
\x91barrin\x92 the ermine;\x92 besides, that on the present occasion, Peter\x92s
argument in their favour decided them upon staying, for they now felt
like martyrs, and firmly believed that they were putting the chief
justice under an obligation to them for life.

\x93When, therefore, they heard the question of the court, it did not take a
moment\x92s time for the whole body to rise en masses and bowing to the
judge, call out, \x91We\x92ll stay, my lord, and try every mother\x92s son of them
for you; ay, if it lasted till Christmas.

\x93\x91I am sure, my lord,\x92 said Peter, collecting himself for an effort, \x91I
cannot sufficiently express my gratitude for the great sacrifice these
gifted and highly intelligent gentlemen are making in my client\x92s behalf;
for being persons who have great interests in the country at stake, their
conduct on the present occasion is the more praiseworthy; and I am
certain they fully appreciate, as does your lordship, the difficulty of
the case before us, when documents will be submitted, requiring a certain
degree of acquaintance with such testimonials sufficiently to comprehend.
Many of the title deeds, as your lordship is aware, being obtained under
old abbey charters, are in the learned languages; and we all know how
home to our hearts and bosoms comes the beautiful line of the Greek poet
\x91vacuus viator cantabit ante latronem.\x92\x94  The sound of the quotation
roused the chief justice, who had been in some measure inattentive to the
preceding part of the learned counsel\x92s address, and he called out rather
sharply, \x91Greek! Mr. Purcell--why I must have mistaken--will you repeat
the passage?\x92

\x93\x91With pleasure, my lord.  I was just observing to your lordship and the
jury, with the eloquent poet Hergesius, \x91vacuus viator cantabit ante
latronem.\x92

\x93\x91Greek, did you call it?\x92

\x93\x91Yes, my lord, of course I did.\x92

\x93\x91Why, Mr. Purcell, you are quoting Latin to me--and what do you mean by
talking of the learned Hergesius, and Greek all this time?--the line is
Juvenal\x92s.\x92

\x93\x91My lord, with much submission to your lordship, and every deference to
your great attainments and very superior talents, let me still assure you
that I am quoting Greek, and that your lordship is in error.\x92

\x93\x91Mr. Purcell, I have only to remark, that if you are desirous of making
a jest of the court, you had better be cautious, I say, sir;\x92 and here
the judge waxed exceeding wroth.  \x91I say the line is Latin--Latin, sir,
Juvenal\x92s Latin, sir--every schoolboy knows it.\x92

\x93\x91Of course, my lord,\x92 said Peter, with great humility, \x91I bow myself to
the decision of your lordship; the line is, therefore, Latin.  Yet I may
be permitted to hint that were your lordship disposed to submit this
question, as you are shortly about to do another and a similar one, to
those clear-sighted and intelligent gentlemen there, I am satisfied, my
lord, it would be Greek to every man of them.\x92

\x93The look, the voice, and the peculiar emphasis with which Peter gave
these words, were perfectly successful.  The acute judge anticipated the
wish of the counsel--the jury were dismissed, and Peter proceeded to his
case before those he knew better how to deal with, and with whom the
result was more certain to be as he wished it.\x94

To this anecdote of the counsellor, succeeded many others, of which, as
the whiskey was potent and the hour late, my memory is not over
retentive: the party did not break up till near four o\x92clock; and even
then, our seance only concluded, because some one gravely remarked \x93that
as we should be all actively engaged on the morrow, early hours were
advisable.\x94



CHAPTER XIX.

THE ASSIZE TOWN.

I had not been above a week in my new quarters, when my servant presented
me, among my letters one morning, with a packet, which with considerable
pains, I at length recognised to be directed to me.  The entire envelope
was covered with writing in various hands, among which I detected
something which bore a faint resemblance to my name; but the address
which followed was perfectly unreadable, not only to me, as it appeared,
but also to the \x93experts\x94 of the different post-offices, for it had been
followed by sundry directions to try various places beginning with T,
which seemed to be the letter commencing the \x93great unknown locality:\x94
 thus I read \x93try Tralee,\x94 \x93try Tyrone,\x94 \x93try Tanderagee,\x94 &c. &c.  I
wonder that they didn\x92t add, \x93try Teheran,\x94 and I suppose they would at
last, rather than abandon the pursuit.

\x93But, Stubber,\x94 said I, as I conned over the various addresses on this
incomprehensible cover, \x93are you sure this is for me?\x94

\x93The postmaster, sir, desired me to ask you if you\x92d have it, for he has
offered it to every one down in these parts lately; the waterguard
officers will take it at 8d. Cir, if you won\x92t, but I begged you might
have the refusal.\x94

\x93Oh! very well; I am happy to find matters are managed so impartially in
the post-office here.  Nothing like a public cant for making matters find
their true level.  Tell the postmaster, then, I\x92ll keep the letter, and
the rather, as it happens, by good luck, to be intended for me.\x94

\x93And now for the interior,\x94 said I, as I broke the seal and read:

     \x93Paris, Rue Castiglione.

     \x93My dear Mr. Lorrequer--As her ladyship and my son have in vain
     essayed to get any thing from you in the shape of reply to their
     letters, it has devolved upon me to try my fortune, which were I to
     augur from the legibility of my writing, may not, I should fear,
     prove more successful than the\x94--(what can the word be?) \x93the--the\x94
      --why, it can\x92t be damnable, surely?--no, it is amiable, I see
     --\x93than the amiable epistle of my lady.  I cannot, however, permit
     myself to leave this without apprising you that we are about to
     start for Baden, where we purpose remaining a month or two.  Your
     cousin Guy, who has been staying for some time with us, has been
     obliged to set out for Geneva, but hopes to join in some weeks
     hence.  He is a great favourite with us all, but has not effaced the
     memory of our older friend, yourself.  Could you not find means to
     come over and see us--if only a flying visit?  Rotterdam is the
     route, and a few days would bring you to our quarters.  Hoping that
     you may feel so disposed, I have enclosed herewith a letter to the
     Horse Guards, which I trust may facilitate your obtaining leave of
     absence.  I know of no other mode of making your peace with the
     ladies, who are too highly incensed at your desertion to send one
     civil postscript to this letter; and Kilkee and myself are
     absolutely exhausted in our defence of you.  Believe me, yours
     truly,

                                   \x93Callonby.\x94

Had I received an official notification of my being appointed paymaster
to the forces, or chaplain to Chelsea hospital, I believe I should have
received the information with less surprise than I perused this letter
--that after the long interval which had elapsed, during which I had
considered myself totally forgotten by this family, I should now receive
a letter--and such a letter, too--quite in the vein of our former
intimacy and good feeling, inviting me to their house, and again
professing their willingness that I should be on the terms of our old
familiarity--was little short of wonderful to me.  I read, too--with what
pleasure?--that slight mention of my cousin, whom I had so long regarded
as my successful rival, but who I began now to hope had not been
preferred to me.  Perhaps it was not yet too late to think that all was
not hopeless.  It appeared, too, that several letters had been written
which had never reached me; so, while I accused them of neglect and
forgetfulness, I was really more amenable to the charge myself; for, from
the moment I had heard of my cousin Guy\x92s having been domesticated
amongst them, and the rumours of his marriage had reached me, I suffered
my absurd jealousy to blind my reason, and never wrote another line
after.  I ought to have known how \x93bavarde\x94 [boasting] Guy always was
--that he never met with the most commonplace attentions any where, that
he did not immediately write home about settlements and pin-money, and
portions for younger children, and all that sort of nonsense.  Now I saw
it all plainly, and ten thousand times quicker than my hopes were
extinguished before were they again kindled, and I could not refrain
from regarding Lady Jane as a mirror of constancy, and myself the most
fortunate man in Europe.  My old castle-building propensities came back
upon me in an instant, and I pictured myself, with Lady Jane as my
companion, wandering among the beautiful scenery of the Neckar, beneath
the lofty ruins of Heidelberg, or skimming the placid surface of the
Rhine, while, \x93mellowed by distance,\x94 came the rich chorus of a
student\x92s melody, filling the air with its flood of song.  How
delightful, I thought, to be reading the lyrics of Uhland, or Buerger,
with one so capable of appreciating them, with all the hallowed
associations of the \x93Vaterland\x94 about us!  Yes, said I aloud, repeating
the well-known line of a German \x93Lied\x94--

               \x93Bakranzt mit Laub, den lieben vollen Becher.\x94

\x93Upon my conscience,\x94 said Mr. Daly, who had for some time past been in
silent admiration of my stage-struck appearance--\x93upon my conscience, Mr.
Lorrequer, I had no conception you knew Irish.\x94

The mighty talisman of the Counsellor\x92s voice brought me back in a moment
to a consciousness of where I was then standing, and the still more
fortunate fact that I was only a subaltern in his majesty\x92s __th--.

\x93Why, my dear Counsellor, that was German I was quoting, not Irish.\x94

\x93With all my heart,\x94 said Mr. Daly, breaking the top off his third egg
--\x93with all my heart; I\x92d rather you\x92d talk it than me.  Much conversation
in that tongue, I\x92m thinking, would be mighty apt to loosen one\x92s teeth.\x94

\x93Not at all, it is the most beautiful language in Europe, and the most
musical too.  Why, even for your own peculiar taste in such matters,
where can you find any language so rich in Bacchanalian songs as German?\x94

\x93I\x92d rather hear the \x93Cruiskeen Lawn\x94 or the \x93Jug of Punch\x94 as my old
friend Pat. Samson could sing them, than a score of your high Dutch
jawbreakers.\x94

\x93Shame upon ye, Mr. Daly; and for pathos, for true feeling, where is
there anything equal to Schiller\x92s ballads?\x94

\x93I don\x92t think I\x92ve ever heard any of his; but if you will talk of
ballads,\x94 said the Counsellor, \x93give me old Mosey M\x92Garry\x92s: what\x92s finer
than\x94--and here began, with a most nasal twang and dolorous emphasis, to
sing--

               \x93\x91And I stepp\x92d up unto her,
                  An\x92 I made a congee--
               And I ax\x92d her, her pardon
                  For the making so free.\x92

\x93And then the next verse, she says--

               \x93\x91Are you goin\x92 to undo me,
                  In this desert alone?\x92--

\x93There\x92s a shake there.\x94

\x93For Heaven\x92s sake,\x94 I cried, \x93stop; when I spoke of ballads, I never
meant such infernal stuff as that.\x94

\x93I\x92ll not give up my knowledge of ballads to any man breathing,\x94 said Mr.
Daly; \x93and, with God\x92s blessing, I\x92ll sing you one this evening, after
dinner, that will give you a cramp in the stomach.\x94

An animated discussion upon lyrical poetry was here interrupted by a
summons from our host to set out for the town.  My party were, by the
desire of the magistracy, to be in readiness near the court-house, in the
event of any serious disturbance, which there existed but too much reason
to fear from the highly excited state of feeling on the subject of the
approaching trials.  The soldiers were, under the guidance of Mr.
Larkins, safely ensconced in a tan-yard; and I myself, having consigned
them for the present to a non-commissioned officer, was left at perfect
liberty to dispose of my time and person as it might please me.

While these arrangements were taking place, I had entirely lost sight of
Mr. Daly, under whose guidance and protection I trusted to obtain a place
within the bar to hear the trials; so that I was now perfectly alone, for
my host\x92s numerous avocations entirely precluded any thought of my
putting myself under his care.

My first object was to reach the court-house, and there could be little
difficulty in finding it, for the throng of persons in the street were
all eagerly bending their way thither.  I accordingly followed with the
stream, and soon found myself among an enormous multitude of frize-coated
and red-cloaked people, of both sexes, in a large open square, which
formed the market-place, one side of which was flanked by the
court-house--for as such I immediately recognized a massive-looking grey
stone building--in which the numerous windows, all open and filled with
people, exhaled a continued steam from the crowded atmosphere within.
To approach it was perfectly impossible: for the square was packed so
closely, that as the people approached, by the various streets, they
were obliged to stand in the avenues leading to it, and regard what was
going on from a distance.  Of this large multitude I soon became one,
hoping that at length some fortunate opportunity might enable me to
obtain admission through some of my legal acquaintances.

That the fate of those who were then upon their trial for their lives
absorbed the entire feelings of those without, a momentary glance at the
hundreds of anxious and care-worn faces in the crowd, would completely
satisfy.  Motionless and silent they stood: they felt no fatigue--no want
of food or refreshment--their interest was one and undivided--all their
hopes and fears were centered in the events then passing at a short
distance from them, but to which their ignorance imparted an additional
and more painful excitement--the only information of how matters were
going on being by an occasional word, sometimes a mere gesture from some
one stationed in the windows to a friend in the crowd.

When the contemplation of this singularly impressive scene was beginning
to weary from the irksomeness of my position, I thought of retiring: but
soon discovered how impossible was such a step.  The crowd had blocked up
so completely all the avenues of approach, that even had I succeeded in
getting from the market-place, it would be only to remain firmly impacted
among the mob in the street.

It now also occurred to me, that although I had been assured by Larkins
no call could possibly be made upon my services or those of my party,
till after the trial, yet, were that to conclude at any moment, I should
be perfectly unable to regain the place where I had stationed them, and
the most serious consequences might ensue from the absence of their
officer, if the men were required to act.

From the time this thought took possession of me, I became excessively
uncomfortable.  Every expression of the people that denoted the progress
of the trial, only alarmed me for the conclusion, which I supposed, might
not be distant, and I began, with all my ingenuity, to attempt my
retreat, which, after half an hour\x92s severe struggle, I completely
abandoned, finding myself scarcely ten yards from where I started.

At length, the counsel for the crown, who had been speaking to evidence,
ceased; and an indistinct murmur was heard through the court-house, which
was soon repressed by the voice of the crier calling \x93silence.\x94  All now
seemed still and silent as the grave--yet, on listening attentively, for
some time, you could catch the low tones of a voice speaking, as it
appeared, with great deliberation and slowness.  This was the judge
addressing the jury.  In a short time this also ceased; and, for about
half an hour, the silence was perfectly unbroken, and both within and
without there reigned one intense and aching sense of anxiety that
absorbed every feeling, and imparted to every face an expression of
almost agonizing uncertainty.  It was, indeed, a space well calculated to
excite such emotions.  The jury had retired to deliberate upon their
verdict.  At length a door was heard to open, and the footsteps of the
jury, as they resumed their places, sounded through the court, and were
heard by those without.  How heavily upon many a stout heart those
footsteps fell!  They had taken their seats--then came another pause
--after which the monotonous tones of the clerk of the court were heard,
addressing the jury for their verdict.  As the foreman rises every ear is
bent--every eye strained--every heart-string vibrates: his lips move, but
he is not heard; he is desired by the judge to speak louder; the colour
mounts to his before bloodless face; he appears to labour for a few
seconds with a mighty effort, and, at last, pronounces the words,
\x93Guilty, my Lord--all guilty!\x94

I have heard the wild war-whoop of the red Indian, as, in his own pine
forest, he has unexpectedly come upon the track of his foe, and the
almost extinguished hope of vengeance has been kindled again in his cruel
heart--I have listened to the scarcely less savage hurra of a storming
party, as they have surmounted the crumbling ruins of a breach, and
devoted to fire and sword, with that one yell, all who await them--and
once in my life it has been my fortune to have heard the last yell of
defiance from a pirate crew, as they sunk beneath the raking fire of a
frigate, rather than surrender, and went down with a cheer of defiance
that rose even above the red artillery that destroyed but could not
subdue them;--but never, in any or all of these awful moments, did my
heart vibrate to such sounds as rent the air when the fatal \x93Guilty\x94 was
heard by those within, and repeated to those without.  It was not grief
--it was not despair--neither was it the cry of sharp and irrepressible
anguish, from a suddenly blighted hope--but it was the long pent-up and
carefully-concealed burst of feeling which called aloud for vengeance
--red and reeking revenge upon all who had been instrumental in the
sentence then delivered.  It ceased, and I looked towards the
court-house, expecting that an immediate and desperate attack upon the
building and those whom it contained would at once take place.  But
nothing of the kind ensued; the mob were already beginning to disperse,
and before I recovered perfectly from the excitement of these few and
terrible moments, the square was nearly empty, and I almost felt as if
the wild and frantic denunciation that still rang through my ears, had
been conjured up by a heated and fevered imagination.

When I again met our party at the dinner table, I could not help feeling
surprised on perceiving how little they sympathized in my feeling for the
events of the day; which, indeed, they only alluded to in a professional
point of view--criticising the speeches of the counsel on both sides, and
the character of the different witnesses who were examined.

\x93Well,\x94 said Mr. Daly, addressing our host, \x93you never could have had a
conviction to-day if it wasn\x92t for Mike.  He\x92s the best evidence I ever
heard.  I\x92d like to know very much how you ever got so clever a fellow
completely in your clutches?\x94

\x93By a mere accident, and very simply,\x94 replied the justice.  \x93It was upon
one of our most crowded fair days--half the county was in town, when the
information arrived that the Walshes were murdered the night before, at
the cross-roads above Telenamuck mills.  The news reached me as I was
signing some tithe warrants, one of which was against Mickey.  I sent for
him into the office, knowing that as he was in the secret of all the evil
doings, I might as well pretend to do him a service, and offer to stop
the warrant, out of kindness as it were.  Well, one way or another, he
was kept waiting for several hours while I was engaged in writing, and
all the country people, as they passed the window, could look in and see
Mickey Sheehan standing before me, while I was employed busily writing
letters.  It was just at this time, that a mounted policeman rode in with
the account of the murder; upon which I immediately issued a warrant to
arrest the two MacNeills and Owen Shirley upon suspicion.  I thought I
saw Mike turn pale, as I said the names over to the serjeant of police,
and I at once determined to turn it to account; so I immediately began
talking to Mickey about his own affairs, breaking off, every now and
then, to give some directions about the men to be captured.  The crowd
outside was increasing every instant, and you need not have looked at
their faces twice, to perceive that they had regarded Mickey as an
approver; and the same night that saw the MacNeills in custody, witnessed
the burning of Sheehan\x92s house and haggart, and he only escaped by a
miracle over to Curryglass, where, once under my protection, with the
imputation upon his character of having turned King\x92s evidence, I had
little trouble in persuading him that he might as well benefit by the
report as enjoy the name without the gain.   He soon complied, and the
convictions of this day are partly the result.\x94

When the applause which greeted this clever stroke of our host had
subsided, I enquired what results might, in all likelihood, follow the
proceedings of which I had that day been a witness?

\x93Nothing will be done immediately,\x94 replied the justice, \x93because we
have a large force of police and military about us; but let either, or
unhappily both, be withdrawn, and the cry you heard given in the
market-place to-day will be the death-wail for more than one of those
who are well and hearty at this moment.\x94

The train of thought inevitably forced upon me by all I had been a
spectator of during the day, but little disposed me to be a partaker in
the mirth and conviviality which, as usual, formed the staple of the
assize dinners of Mr. Larkins; and I accordingly took an early
opportunity to quit the company and retire for the night.



CHAPTER XX.

A DAY IN DUBLIN.

On the third day of my residence at Curryglass, arrived my friend,
Mortimer, to replace me, bringing my leave from the colonel, and a most
handsome letter, in which he again glanced at the prospect before me in
the Callonby family, and hinted at my destination, which I had not
alluded to, adding, that if I made the pretence of study in Germany the
reason for my application at the Horse Guards, I should be almost certain
to obtain a six months\x92 leave.  With what spirits I ordered Stubber to
pack up my portmanteau, and secure our places in the Dublin mail for that
night, while I myself hurried to take leave of my kind entertainer and
his guests, as well as to recommend to their favor and attention my
excellent friend Mortimer, who, being a jovial fellow, not at all in
love, was a happy exchange for me, who, despite Daly\x92s capital stories,
had spent the last two days in watching the high road for my successor\x92s
arrival.

Once more then, I bade adieu to Curryglass and its hospitable owner,
whose labours for \x93justice to Ireland\x94 I shall long remember, and
depositing myself in the bowels of his majesty\x92s mail, gave way to the
full current of my hopes and imaginings, which at last ended in a sound
and refreshing sleep, from which I only awoke as we drew up at the door
of the Hibernian, in Dawson-street.

Even at that early hour there was considerable bustle and activity of
preparation, which I was at some loss to account for, till informed by
the waiter that there were upwards of three hundred strangers in the
house, it being the day of his majesty\x92s expected arrival on his visit to
Ireland, and a very considerable section of the county Galway being at
that moment, with their wives and families, installed, for the occasion,
in this, their favourite hotel.

Although I had been reading of this approaching event every day for the
last three months, I could not help feeling surprised at the intense
appearance of excitement it occasioned, and, in the few minutes\x92
conversation I held with the waiter, learned the total impossibility of
procuring a lodging anywhere, and that I could not have a bed, even were
I to offer five guineas for it.  Having, therefore, no inclination for
sleep, even upon easier terms, I ordered my breakfast to be ready at ten,
and set out upon a stroll through the town.  I could not help, in my
short ramble through the streets, perceiving how admirably adapted were
the worthy Dublinites for all the honors that awaited them; garlands of
flowers, transparencies, flags, and the other insignia of rejoicing, were
everywhere in preparation, and, at the end of Sackville-street, a
considerable erection, very much resembling an impromptu gallows, was
being built, for the purpose, as I afterwards learnt, of giving the
worshipful the lord mayor the opportunity of opening the city gates to
royalty; creating the obstacle where none existed; being a very ingenious
conceit, and considerably Irish into the bargain.  I could not help
feeling some desire to witness how all should go off, to use the
theatrical phrase; but, in my anxiety to get on to the continent,
I at once abandoned every thought of delay.  When I returned to the
coffee-room of my hotel, I found it crowded to excess; every little
table, originally destined for the accommodation of one, having at least
two, and sometimes three occupants.  In my hurried glance round the
room, to decide where I should place myself, I was considerably struck
with the appearance of a stout elderly gentleman, with red whiskers, and
a high, bald forehead; he had, although the day was an oppressively hot
one, three waistcoats on, and by the brown York tan of his long topped
boots, evinced a very considerable contempt either for weather or
fashion; in the quick glance of his sharp grey eye, I read that he
listened half doubtingly to the narrative of his companion, whose back
was turned towards me, but who appeared, from the occasional words which
reached me, to be giving a rather marvellous and melodramatic version of
the expected pleasures of the capital.  There was something in the tone
of the speaker\x92s voice that I thought I recognised; I accordingly drew
near, and what was my surprise to discover my friend Tom O\x92Flaherty.
After our first salutation was over, Tom presented me to his friend, Mr.
Burke, of somewhere, who, he continued to inform me, in a stage whisper,
was a \x93regular dust,\x94 and never in Dublin in his life before.

\x93And so, you say, sir, that his majesty cannot enter without the
permission of the lord mayor?\x94

\x93And the aldermen, too,\x94 replied Tom.  \x93It is an old feudal ceremony;
when his majesty comes up to the gate, he demands admission, and the lord
mayor refuses, because he would be thus surrendering his great
prerogative of head of the city; then the aldermen get about him, and
cajole him, and by degrees he\x92s won over by the promise of being
knighted, and the king gains the day, and enters.\x94

\x93Upon my conscience, a mighty ridiculous ceremony it is, after all,\x94 said
Mr. Burke, \x93and very like a bargain for sheep in Ballinasloe fair, when
the buyer and seller appear to be going to fight, till a mutual friend
settles the bargain between them.\x94

At this moment, Mr. Burke suddenly sprung from his chair, which was
nearest the window, to look out; I accordingly followed his example, and
beheld a rather ludicrous procession, if such it could be called,
consisting of so few persons.  The principal individual in the group was
a florid, fat, happy-looking gentleman of about fifty, with a profusion
of nearly white whiskers, which met at his chin, mounted upon a sleek
charger, whose half-ambling, half-prancing pace, had evidently been
acquired by long habit of going in procession; this august figure was
habited in a scarlet coat and cocked hat, having aiguillettes, and all
the other appanage of a general officer; he also wore tight buckskin
breeches, and high jack-boots, like those of the Blues and Horse Guards;
as he looked from side to side, with a self-satisfied contented air, he
appeared quite insensible of the cortege which followed and preceded him;
the latter, consisting of some score of half-ragged boys, yelling and
shouting with all their might, and the former, being a kind of instalment
in hand of the Dublin Militia Band, and who, in numbers and equipment,
closely resembled the \x93army which accompanies the first appearance of
Bombastes.\x94  The only difference, that these I speak of did not play \x93the
Rogue\x92s March,\x94 which might have perhaps appeared personal.

As this goodly procession advanced, Mr. Burke\x92s eyes became riveted upon
it; it was the first wonder he had yet beheld, and he devoured it.  \x93May
I ask, sir,\x94 said he, at length, \x93who that is?\x94

\x93Who that is!\x94 said Tom, surveying him leisurely as he spoke; \x93why,
surely, sir, you must be jesting, or you would not ask such a question;
I trust, indeed, every one knows who he is.  Eh, Harry,\x94 said he, looking
at me for a confirmation of what he said, and to which, of course, I
assented by a look.

\x93Well, but, my dear Mr. O\x92Flaherty, you forget how ignorant I am of every
thing here--\x94

\x93Ah, true,\x94 said Tom, interrupting; \x93I forgot you never saw him before.\x94

\x93And who is he, sir?\x94

\x93Why, that\x92s the Duke of Wellington.\x94

\x93Lord have mercy upon me, is it?\x94 said Mr. Burke, as he upset the table,
and all its breakfast equipage, and rushed through the coffee-room like
one possessed.  Before I could half recover from the fit of laughing this
event threw me into, I heard him as he ran full speed down Dawson-street,
waving his hat, and shouting out at the top of his lungs, \x93God bless your
grace--Long life to your grace--Hurra for the hero of Waterloo; the great
captain of the age,\x94 &c. &c.; which I grieve to say, for the ingratitude
of the individual lauded, seemed not to afford him half the pleasure, and
none of the amusement it did the mob, who reechoed the shouts and
cheering till he was hid within the precincts of the Mansion House.

\x93And, now,\x94 said Tom to me, \x93finish your breakfast as fast as possible;
for, when Burke comes back he will be boring me to dine with him, or some
such thing, as a kind of acknowledgment of his gratitude for showing him
the Duke.  Do you know he has seen more wonders through my poor
instrumentality, within the last three days in Dublin than a six months\x92
trip to the continent would show most men.  I have made him believe that
Burke Bethel is Lord Brougham, and I am about to bring him to a soiree at
Mi-Ladi\x92s, who he supposes to be the Marchioness of Conyngham.  Apropos
to the Bellissima, let me tell you of a \x91good hit\x92 I was witness to a few
nights since; you know, perhaps, old Sir Charles Giesecke, eh?\x94

\x93I have seen him once, I think--the professor of mineralogy.\x94

\x93Well, poor old Sir Charles, one of the most modest and retiring men in
existence, was standing the other night among the mob, in one of the
drawing-rooms, while a waltzing-party were figuring away, at which, with
that fondness for \x91la danse\x92 that characterizes every German of any age,
he was looking with much interest, when my lady came tripping up, and the
following short dialogue ensued within my ear-shot:--\x94

\x93Ah, mon cher, Sir Charles, ravi de vous voir.  But why are you not
dancing?\x94

\x93Ah, mi ladi, Je ne puis pas, c\x92est a dire, Ich kann es nicht; I am too
old; Ich bin--\x94

\x93Oh, you horrid man; I understand you perfectly.  You hate ladies, that
is the real reason.  You do--you know you do.\x94

\x93Ah, my ladi, Gnaedige frau; glauben sie mir; I do loave de ladies; I do
adore de sex.  Do you know, my ladi, when I was in Greenland I did keep
four womans.\x94

\x93Oh, shocking, horrid, vile Sir Charles, how could you tell me such a
story?  I shall die of it.\x94

\x93Ah, mine Gott, mi ladi; sie irren sich, vous, vous trompez.  You are
quite in mistake; it was only to row my boat!\x94

\x93I leave you to guess how my lady\x92s taste for the broad-side of the
story, and poor Sir Charles\x92s vindication of himself, in regard to his
estimation of \x91le beau sexe,\x92 amused all who heard it; as for me, I had
to leave the room, half-choked with suppressed laughter.  And, now, let
us bolt, for I see Burke coming, and, upon my soul I am tired of telling
him lies, and must rest on my oars for a few hours at least.\x94

\x93But where is the necessity for so doing?\x94 said I, \x93surely, where there
is so much of novelty as a large city presents to a visitor for the first
time, there is little occasion to draw upon imagination for your facts.\x94

\x93Ah, my dear Harry, how little do you know of life; there is a kind of
man whose appetite for the marvellous is such, that he must be crammed
with miracles or he dies of inanition, and you might as well attempt to
feed a tiger upon pate de foie gras, as satisfy him by mere naked
unvarnished truth.  I\x92ll just give you an easy illustration; you saw his
delight this morning when the \x91Duke\x92 rode past; well I\x92ll tell you the
converse of that proposition now.  The night before last, having nothing
better to do, we went to the theatre; the piece was \x91La Perouse,\x92 which
they have been playing here for the last two months to crowded houses, to
exhibit some North American Indians whom some theatrical speculator
brought over \x91expres\x92, in all the horrors of fur, wampum, and yellow
ochre.  Finding the \x91spectacle\x92 rather uninteresting I leaned back in my
box, and fell into a doze.  Meanwhile, my inquiring friend, Mr. Burke,
who felt naturally anxious, as he always does, to get au fond at matters,
left his place to obtain information about the piece, the audience, and,
above all, the authenticity of the Indians, who certainly astonished him
considerably.

\x93Now it so happened that about a fortnight previously some violent
passion to return home to their own country had seized these interesting
individuals, and they felt the most irresistible longing to abandon the
savage and unnatural condiments of roast beef and Guinness\x92s porter, and
resume their ancient and more civilized habits of life.  In fact, like
the old African lady, mentioned by the missionary at the Cape, they felt
they could die happy if they \x91could only once more have a roast child for
supper,\x92 and as such luxuries are dear in this country, stay another week
they would not, whatever the consequences might be; the manager reasoned,
begged, implored and threatened, by turns; all would not do, go they were
determined, and all that the unfortunate proprietor could accomplish was,
to make a purchase of their properties in fur, belts, bows, arrows, and
feathers, and get them away quietly, without the public being the wiser.
The piece was too profitable a one to abandon, so he looked about
anxiously, to supply the deficiency in his corps dramatique.  For several
days nothing presented itself to his thoughts, and the public were
becoming more clamorous for the repetition of a drama which had greatly
delighted them.  What was to be done?  In a mood of doubt and uncertainty
the wretched manager was taking his accustomed walk upon the light-house
pier, while a number of unfortunate country fellows, bare legged and
lanky, with hay ropes fastening their old grey coats around them, were
standing beside a packet about to take their departure for England, for
the harvest.  Their uncouth appearance, their wild looks, their violent
gestures, and, above all, their strange and guttural language, for they
were all speaking Irish, attracted the attention of the manager; the
effect, to his professional eye was good, the thought struck him at once.
Here were the very fellows he wanted.  It was scarcely necessary to alter
any thing about them, they were ready made to his hand, and in many
respects better savages than their prototypes.  Through the mediation of
some whiskey, the appropriate liquor in all treaties of this nature, a
bargain was readily struck, and in two hours more, \x91these forty thieves\x92
were rehearsing upon the classic boards of our theatre, and once more, La
Perouse, in all the glory of red capital letters, shone forth in the
morning advertisements.  The run of the piece continued unabated; the
Indians were the rage; nothing else was thought or spoken of in Dublin,
and already the benefit of Ashewaballagh Ho was announced, who, by the
by, was a little fellow from Martin\x92s estate in Connemara, and one of the
drollest dogs I ever heard of.  Well, it so happened that it was upon one
of their nights of performing that I found myself, with Mr. Burke, a
spectator of their proceedings; I had fallen into an easy slumber, while
a dreadful row in the box lobby roused me from my dream, and the loud cry
of \x91turn him out,\x92 \x91pitch him over,\x92 \x91beat his brains out,\x92 and other
humane proposals of the like nature, effectually restored me to
consciousness; I rushed out of the box into the lobby, and there, to my
astonishment, in the midst of a considerable crowd, beheld my friend, Mr.
Burke, belaboring the box-keeper with all his might with a cotton
umbrella of rather unpleasant proportions, accompanying each blow with an
exclamation of \x91well, are they Connaughtmen, now, you rascal, eh? are
they all west of Athlone, tell me that, no?  I wonder what\x92s preventing
me beating the soul out of ye.\x92  After obtaining a short cessation of
hostilities, and restoring poor Sharkey to his legs, much more dead than
alive from pure fright, I learned, at last, the teterrima causa belli.
Mr. Burke, it seems, had entered into conversation with Sharkey, the
box-keeper, as to all the particulars of the theatre, and the present
piece, but especially as to the real and authentic history of the
Indians, whose language he remarked, in many respects to resemble Irish.
Poor Sharkey, whose benefit-night was approaching, thought he might
secure a friend for life, by imparting to him an important state secret;
and when, therefore, pressed rather closely as to the \x91savages\x92
whereabout\x92 resolved to try a bold stroke, and trust his unknown
interrogator.  \x91And so you don\x92t really know where they come from, nor
can\x92t guess?\x92 \x91Maybe, Peru,\x92 said Mr. Burke, innocently.  \x91Try again,
sir,\x92 said Sharkey, with a knowing grin.  \x91Is it Behring\x92s Straits?\x92
said Mr. Burke.  \x91What do you think of Galway, sir?\x92 said Sharkey, with
a leer intended to cement a friendship for life; the words were no
sooner out of his lips, than Burke, who immediately took them as a piece
of direct insolence to himself and his country, felled him to the earth,
and was in the act of continuing the discipline when I arrived on the
field of battle.\x94



CHAPTER XXI.

A NIGHT AT HOWTH.

\x93And must you really leave us so soon,\x94 said Tom as we issued forth into
the street; \x93why I was just planning a whole week\x92s adventure for you.
Town is so full of all kinds of idle people, I think I could manage to
make your time pass pleasantly enough.\x94

\x93Of that,\x94 I replied, \x93I have little doubt; but for the reasons I have
just mentioned, it is absolutely necessary that I should not lose a
moment; and after arranging a few things here, I shall start to-morrow by
the earliest packet, and hasten up to London at once.\x94

\x93By Jupiter,\x94 said Tom, \x93how lucky.  I just remember something, which
comes admirably apropos.  You are going to Paris--is it not so?\x94

\x93Yes, direct to Paris.\x94

\x93Nothing could be better.  There is a particularly nice person, a great
friend of mine, Mrs. Bingham, waiting for several days in hopes of a
chaperon to take care of herself and daughter--a lovely girl, only
nineteen, you wretch--to London, en route to the continent: the mamma
a delightful woman, and a widow, with a very satisfactory jointure--you
understand--but the daughter, a regular downright beauty, and a ward in
chancery, with how many thousand pounds I am afraid to trust myself to
say.  You must know then they are the Binghams of--, upon my soul, I
forget where; but highly respectable.\x94

\x93I regret I have not the pleasure of their acquaintance, and the more
because I shall not be able to make it now.\x94

\x93As why?\x94 said Tom gravely.

\x93Because, in the first place, I am so confoundedly pressed for time that
I could not possibly delay under any contingency that might arise; and
your fair friends are, doubtless, not so eagerly determined upon
travelling night and day till they reach Paris.  Secondly, to speak
candidly, with my present hopes and fears weighing upon my mind, I should
not be the most agreeable travelling companion to two ladies with such
pretensions as you speak of; and thirdly,--\x94

\x93Confound your thirdly.  I suppose we shall have sixteenthly, like a
Presbyterian minister\x92s sermon, if I let you go on.  Why, they\x92ll not
delay you one hour.  Mrs. Bingham, man, cares as little for the road as
yourself; and as for your petits soins, I suppose if you get the fair
ladies through the Custom-House, and see them safe in a London hotel,
it is all will be required at your hands.\x94

\x93Notwithstanding all you say, I see the downright impossibility of my
taking such a charge at this moment, when my own affairs require all the
little attention I can bestow; and when, were I once involved with your
fair friends, it might be completely out of my power to prosecute my own
plans.\x94

As I said this, we reached the door of a handsome looking house in
Kildare-street; upon which Tom left my arm, and informing me that he
desired to drop a card, knocked loudly.

\x93Is Mrs. Bingham at home,\x94 said he, as the servant opened the door.

\x93No sir, she\x92s out in the carriage.\x94

\x93Well, you see Harry, your ill luck befriends you; for I was resolved on
presenting you to my friends and leaving the rest to its merits.\x94

\x93I can safely assure you that I should not have gone up stairs,\x94 said I.
\x93Little as I know of myself, there is one point of my character I have
never been deceived in, the fatal facility by which every new incident
or adventure can turn me from following up my best matured and longest
digested plans; and as I feel this weakness and cannot correct it; the
next best thing I can do is fly the causes.\x94

\x93Upon my soul,\x94 said Tom, \x93you have become quite a philosopher since we
met.  There is an old adage which says, \x91no king is ever thoroughly
gracious if he has not passed a year or two in dethronement;\x92 so I
believe your regular lady-killer--yourself for instance--becomes a very
quiet animal for being occasionally jilted.  But now, as you have some
commissions to do, pray get done with them as fast as possible, and let
us meet at dinner.  Where do you dine to-day?\x94

\x93Why, upon that point, I am at your service completely.\x94

\x93Well, then, I have got a plan which I think will suit you.  You said you
wished to go by Holyhead, for fear of delay; so, we\x92ll drive down at six
o\x92clock to Skinner\x92s and dine with him on board the packet at Howth.
Bring your luggage with you, and it will save you a vast deal of fuss and
trouble in the morning.\x94

Nothing could be better management for me than this, so I accordingly
promised acquiescence; and having appointed a rendezvous for six o\x92clock,
bade O\x92Flaherty good by, inwardly rejoicing that my plans were so far
forwarded, and that I was not to be embarrassed with either Mrs. Bingham
or her daughter, for whose acquaintance or society I had no peculiar
ambition.

My commissions, though not very numerous, occupied the few hours which
remained, and it was already a few minutes past six o\x92clock when I took
my stand under the piazza of the Post Office to wait for O\x92Flaherty.  I
had not long to do so, for immediately after I had reached the spot, he
arrived in an open barouche and four posters, with three other young men,
to whom he severally introduced me, but whose names I have totally
forgotten; I only remember that two of the party were military men then
quartered in town.

When I had taken my seat, I could not help whispering to Tom, that
although his friend Skinner might be \x93bon\x94 for a visitation or two at his
dinner, yet as we were now so strong a party, it might be as well to dine
at the hotel.

\x93Oh,\x94 said he, \x93I have arranged all that; I have sent him a special
messenger two hours since, and so make your mind easy--we shall not be
disappointed, nor be short-taken.\x94

Our drive, although a long one, passed quickly over, and before we had
reached our destination, I had become tolerably intimate with all the
party, who were evidently picked men, selected by O\x92Flaherty for a
pleasant evening.

We drove along the pier to the wharf, where the steamer lay, and were
received at once by Tom\x92s friend with all the warm welcome and
hospitality of a sailor, united with the address and polish of a very
finished gentleman.  As we descended the companion-ladder to the cabin,
my mind became speedily divested of any fears I might have indulged in,
as to the want of preparation of our entertainer.  The table was covered
with all the appanage of handsome plate and cut glass, while the
side-tables glittered with a magnificent dessert, and two large
wine-coolers presented an array of champagne necks shining with their
leaden cravats that would have tempted an anchorite.

I remember very little else of that evening than the coup d\x92oeil I have
mentioned; besides, were my memory more retentive, I might scruple to
trespass farther on my reader\x92s patience, by the detail of those
pleasures, which, like love-letters, however agreeable to the parties
immediately concerned, are very unedifying to all others.  I do remember,
certainly, that good stories and capital songs succeeded each other with
a rapidity only to be equalled by the popping of corks; and have also a
very vague and indistinct recollection of a dance round the table,
evidently to finish a chorus, but which, it appears, finished me too, for
I saw no more that night.

How many men have commemorated the waking sensations of their fellow-men,
after a night\x92s debauch; yet at the same time, I am not aware of any one
having perfectly conveyed even a passing likeness to the mingled throng
of sensations which crowd one\x92s brain on such an occasion.  The doubt of
what has passed, by degrees yielding to the half-consciousness of the
truth, the feeling of shame, inseparable except to the habitually
hard-goer, for the events thus dimly pictured, the racking headache and
intense thirst, with the horror of the potation recently indulged in: the
recurring sense of the fun or drollery of a story or an incident which
provokes us again to laugh despite the jarring of our brain from the
shaking.  All this and more most men have felt, and happy are they when
their waking thoughts are limited to such, at such times as these--the
matter becomes considerably worse, when the following morning calls for
some considerable exertion, for which even in your best and calmest
moments, you only find yourself equal.

It is truly unpleasant, on rubbing your eyes and opening your ears, to
discover that the great bell is ringing the half-hour before your
quarterly examination at college, while Locke, Lloyd, and Lucian are
dancing a reel through your brain, little short of madness; scarcely less
agreeable is it, to learn that your friend Captain Wildfire is at the
door in his cab, to accompany you to the Phoenix, to stand within twelve
paces of a cool gentleman who has been sitting with his arm in Eau de
Cologne for the last half-hour, that he may pick you out \x93artist-like.\x94
 There are, besides these, innumerable situations in which our
preparations of the night would appear, as none of the wisest; but I
prefer going at once to my own, which, although considerably inferior in
difficulty, was not without its own \x93desagremens.\x94

When I awoke, therefore, on board the \x93Fire-fly,\x94 the morning after our
dinner-party, I was perfectly unable, by any mental process within my
reach, to discover where I was.  On ship-board I felt I must be--the
narrow berth--the gilded and panelled cabin which met my eye, through my
half-open curtains, and that peculiar swelling motion inseparable from a
vessel in the water, all satisfied me of this fact.  I looked about me,
but could see no one to give me the least idea of my position.  Could it
be that we were on our way out to Corfu, and that I had been ill for some
time past?

But this cabin had little resemblance to a transport; perhaps it might be
a frigate--I knew not.  Then again, were we sailing, or at anchor, for
the ship was nearly motionless; at this instant a tremendous noise like
thunder crashed through my head, and for a moment I expected we had
exploded, and would be all blown up; but an instant after I discovered it
must be the escape of the steam, and that I was on board a packet ship.
Here, then, was some clue to my situation, and one which would probably
have elicited all in due season; but just at this moment a voice on deck
saved me from any further calculations.  Two persons were conversing
whose voices were not altogether unknown to me, but why I knew not.

\x93Then, Captain, I suppose you consider this as an excellent passage.\x94

\x93Yes, of course I do,\x94 replied the captain, \x93it\x92s only five hours since
we left Howth, and now you see we are nearly in; if we have this run of
the tide we shall reach the Head before twelve o\x92clock.\x94

\x93Ha! ha!\x94 said I to myself, \x93now I begin to learn something.  So we have
crossed the channel while I was sleeping--not the least agreeable thing
for a man to hear who suffers martyrdom from sea sickness--but let me
listen again.\x94

\x93And that large mountain there--is that Snowdon?\x94

\x93No.  You cannot see Snowdon; there is too much mist about it; that
mountain is Capel Carrig; and there that bold bluff to the eastward, that
is Penmen Mawr.\x94

\x93Come, there is no time to be lost,\x94 thought I; so springing out of my
berth, accoutred as I was, in merely trowsers and slippers, with a red
handkerchief fastened night-cap fashion round my head, I took my way
through the cabin.

My first thought on getting upon my legs was how tremendously the vessel
pitched, which I had not remarked while in my berth, but now I could
scarce keep myself from falling at every step.  I was just about to call
the steward, when I again heard the voices on deck.

\x93You have but few passengers this trip.\x94

\x93I think only yourself and a Captain Lorrequer,\x94 replied the captain,
\x93who, by-the-by, is losing all this fine coast, which is certainly a
great pity.\x94

\x93He shall not do so much longer,\x94 thought I; \x93for as I find that there are
no other passengers, I\x92ll make my toilet on deck, and enjoy the view
besides.\x94  With this determination I ascended slowly and cautiously the
companion ladder, and stepped out upon the deck; but scarcely had I done
so, when a roar of the loudest laughter made me turn my head towards the
poop, and there to my horror of horrors, I beheld Tom O\x92Flaherty seated
between two ladies, whose most vociferous mirth I soon perceived was
elicited at my expense.

All the party of the preceding night were also there, and as I turned
from their grinning faces to the land, I saw, to my shame and confusion,
that we were still lying beside the pier at Howth; while the band-boxes,
trunks, and imperials of new arrivals were incessantly pouring in, as
travelling carriages kept driving up to the place of embarkation.  I
stood perfectly astounded and bewildered--shame for my ridiculous costume
would have made me fly at any other time--but there I remained to be
laughed at patiently, while that villain O\x92Flaherty leading me passively
forward, introduced me to his friends--\x93Mrs. Bingham, Mr. Lorrequer; Mr.
Lorrequer, Miss Bingham.  Don\x92t be prepossessed against him, ladies, for
when not in love, and properly dressed, he is a marvellously well-looking
young gentleman; and as--\x94

What the remainder of the sentence might be, I knew not, for I rushed
down into the cabin, and locking the door, never opened it till I could
perceive from the stern windows that we were really off on our way to
England, and recognized once more the laughing face of O\x92Flaherty, who,
as he waved his hat to his friends from the pier, reminded them that
\x93they were under the care and protection of his friend Lorrequer, who, he
trusted, would condescend to increase his wearing apparel under the
circumstances.\x94



CHAPTER XXII.

THE JOURNEY.

When I did at last venture upon deck, it was with a costume studiously
accurate, and as much of manner as I could possibly muster, to endeavour
at once to erase the unfortunate impression of my first appearance; this,
however, was not destined to be a perfectly successful manoeuvre, and I
was obliged after a few minutes to join the laugh, which I found could
not be repressed, at my expense.  One good result certainly followed from
all this.  I became almost immediately on intimate terms with Mrs.
Bingham and her daughter, and much of the awkwardness in my position as
their chaperon, which bon gre, mal gre I was destined to be, was at once
got over.  Mrs. Bingham herself was of that \x93genre\x94 of widow which comes
under the \x93fat, fair, and forty\x94 category, with a never-ceasing flow of
high, almost boisterous, spirits--an excellent temper, good health
--and a well-stocked purse.  Life to her was like a game of her favourite
\x93speculation.\x94  When, as she believed, the \x93company honest,\x94 and knew her
cards trumps, she was tolerably easy for the result.  She liked
Kingstown--she liked short whist--she liked the military--she liked \x93the
junior bar,\x94 of which she knew a good number--she had a well furnished
house in Kildare-street--and a well cushioned pew in St. Anne\x92s--she was
a favourite at the castle--and Dr. Labatt \x93knew her constitution.\x94  Why,
with all these advantages, she should ever have thought of leaving the
\x93happy valley\x94 of her native city, it was somewhat hard to guess.  Was it
that thoughts of matrimony, which the continent held out more prospect
for, had invaded the fair widow\x92s heart? was it that the altered
condition to which politics had greatly reduced Dublin, had effected this
change of opinion? or was it like that indescribable longing for the
unknown something, which we read of in the pathetic history of the fair
lady celebrated, I believe, by Petrarch, but I quote from memory:

                   \x93Mrs. Gill is very ill,
                       Nothing can improve her,
                    But to see the Tuillerie,
                       And waddle through the Louvre.\x94

None of these, I believe, however good and valid reasons in themselves,
were the moving powers upon the present occasion; the all-sufficient one
being that Mrs. Bingham had a daughter.  Now Miss Bingham was Dublin too
--but Dublin of a later edition--and a finer, more hot-pressed copy than
her mamma.  She had been educated at Mrs. Somebody\x92s seminary in
Mountjoy-square--had been taught to dance by Montague--and had learned
French from a Swiss governess--with a number of similar advantages
--a very pretty figure--dark eyes--long eye-lashes and a dimple--and last,
but of course least, the deserved reputation of a large fortune.  She had
made a most successful debut in the Dublin world, where she was much
admired and flattered, and which soon suggested to her quick mind, as it
has often done in similar cases to a young provincial debutante, not to
waste her \x93fraicheur\x94 upon the minor theatres, but at once to appear upon
the \x93great boards;\x94 so far evidencing a higher flight of imagination
and enterprise than is usually found among the clique of her early
associates, who may be characterized as that school of young ladies,
who like the \x93Corsair\x94 and Dunleary, and say, \x93ah don\x92t!\x94

She possessed much more common sense than her mamma, and promised under
proper advantages to become speedily quite sufficiently acquainted with
the world and its habitudes.  In the meanwhile, I perceived that she ran
a very considerable risque of being carried off by some mustachoed Pole,
with a name like a sneeze, who might pretend to enjoy the entree into the
fashionable circles of the continent.

Very little study of my two fair friends enabled me to see thus much; and
very little \x93usage\x94 sufficed to render me speedily intimate with both;
the easy bonhommie of the mamma, who had a very methodistical
appreciation of what the \x93connexion\x94 call \x93creature comforts,\x94 amused me
much, and opened one ready path to her good graces by the opportunity
afforded of getting up a luncheon of veal cutlets and London porter, of
which I partook, not a little to the evident loss of the fair daughter\x92s
esteem.

While, therefore, I made the tour of the steward\x92s cell in search of
Harvey\x92s sauce, I brushed up my memory of the Corsair and Childe Harold,
and alternately discussed Stilton and Southey, Lover and lobsters, Haynes
Bayley and ham.

The day happened to be particularly calm and delightful, so that we never
left the deck; and the six hours which brought us from land to land,
quickly passed over in this manner; and ere we reached \x93the Head,\x94 I had
become the warm friend and legal adviser of the mother; and with the
daughter I was installed as chief confidant of all her griefs and
sorrows, both of which appointments cost me a solemn promise to take care
of them till their arrival in Paris, where they had many friends and
acquaintances awaiting them.  Here, then, as usual, was the invincible
facility with which I gave myself up to any one who took the trouble to
influence me.  One thing, nevertheless, I was determined on, to let no
circumstance defer my arrival at Paris a day later than was possible:
therefore, though my office as chaperon might diminish my comforts en
route, it should not interfere with the object before me.  Had my mind
not been so completely engaged with my own immediate prospects, when hope
suddenly and unexpectedly revived, had become so tinged with fears and
doubts as to be almost torture, I must have been much amused with my
present position, as I found myself seated with my two fair friends,
rolling along through Wales in their comfortable travelling carriage
--giving all the orders at the different hotels--seeing after the
luggage--and acting en maitre in every respect.

The good widow enjoyed particularly the difficulty which my precise
position, with regard to her and her daughter, threw the different
innkeepers on the road into, sometimes supposing me to be her husband,
sometimes her son, and once her son-in-law; which very alarming
conjecture brought a crimson tinge to the fair daughter\x92s cheek, an
expression, which, in my ignorance, I thought looked very like an
inclination to faint in my arms.

At length we reached London, and having been there safely installed at
\x93Mivart\x92s,\x94 I sallied forth to present my letter to the Horse Guards,
and obtain our passport for the continent.

\x93Number nine, Poland-street, sir\x94 said the waiter, as I inquired the
address of the French Consul.  Having discovered that my interview with
the commander-in-chief was appointed for four o\x92clock, I determined to
lose no time, but make every possible arrangement for leaving London in
the morning.

A cab quietly conveyed me to the door of the Consul, around which stood
several other vehicles, of every shape and fashion, while in the doorway
were to be seen numbers of people, thronging and pressing, like the Opera
pit on a full night.  Into the midst of this assemblage I soon thrust
myself, and, borne upon the current, at length reached a small back
parlour, filled also with people; a door opening into another small room
in the front, showed a similar mob there, with the addition of a small
elderly man, in a bag wig and spectacles, very much begrimed with snuff,
and speaking in a very choleric tone to the various applicants for
passports, who, totally ignorant of French, insisted upon interlarding
their demands with an occasional stray phrase, making a kind of
tesselated pavement of tongues, which would have shamed Babel.  Nearest
to the table at which the functionary sat, stood a mustachoed gentleman,
in a blue frock and white trowsers, a white hat jauntily set upon one
side of his head, and primrose gloves.  He cast a momentary glance of a
very undervaluing import upon the crowd around him, and then, turning to
the Consul, said in a very soprano tone--

\x93Passport, monsieur!\x94

\x93Que voulez vous que je fasse,\x94 replied the old Frenchman, gruffly.

\x93Je suis j\x92ai--that is, donnez moi passport.\x94

\x93Where do you go?\x94 replied the Consul.

\x93Calai.\x94

\x93Comment diable, speak Inglis, an I understan\x92 you as besser.  Your
name?\x94

\x93Lorraine Snaggs, gentilhomme.\x94

\x93What age have you?--how old?\x94

\x93Twenty-two.\x94

\x93C\x92est ca,\x94 said the old consul, flinging the passport across the table,
with the air of a man who thoroughly comprehended the applicant\x92s
pretension to the designation of gentilhomme Anglais.

\x93Will you be seated ma\x92mselle?\x94 said the polite old Frenchman, who had
hitherto been more like a bear than a human being--\x93Ou allez vous donc;
where to, ma chere?\x94

\x93To Paris, sir.\x94

\x93By Calais?\x94

\x93No, sir; by Boulogne\x94--

\x93C\x92est bon; quel age avez vous.  What old, ma belle?\x94

\x93Nineteen, sir, in June.\x94

\x93And are you alone, quite, eh?\x94

\x93No, sir, my little girl.\x94

\x93Ah! your leetel girl--c\x92est fort bien--je m\x92appercois; and your name?\x94

\x93Fanny Linwood, sir.\x94

\x93C\x92est fini, ma chere, Mademoiselle Fanni Linwood,\x94 said the old man, as
he wrote down the name.

\x93Oh, sir, I beg your pardon, but you have put me down Mademoiselle, and
--and--you see, sir, I have my little girl.\x94

\x93A c\x92est egal, mam\x92selle, they don\x92t mind these things in France--au
plaisir de vous voir.  Adieu.\x94

\x93They don\x92t mind these things in France,\x94 said I to myself, repeating the
old consul\x92s phrase, which I could not help feeling as a whole chapter on
his nation.

My business was soon settled, for I spoke nothing but English--very
little knowledge of the world teaching me that when we have any favour,
however slight, to ask, it is always good policy to make the amende by
gratifying the amour propre of the granter--if, happily, there be an
opportunity for so doing.

When I returned to Mivart\x92s, I found a written answer to my letter of the
morning, stating that his lordship of the Horse Guards was leaving town
that afternoon, but would not delay my departure for the continent, to
visit which a four month\x92s leave was granted me, with a recommendation to
study at Weimar.

The next day brought us to Dover, in time to stroll about the cliffs
during the evening, when I again talked sentiment with the daughter till
very late.  The Madame herself was too tired to come out, so that we had
our walk quite alone.  It is strange enough how quickly this travelling
together has shaken us into intimacy.  Isabella says she feels as if I
were her brother; and I begin to think myself she is not exactly like a
sister.  She has a marvellously pretty foot and ancle.

The climbing of cliffs is a very dangerous pastime.  How true the French
adage--\x93C\x92est plus facile de glisser sur la gazon que sur la glace.\x94  But
still nothing can come of it; for if Lady Jane be not false, I must
consider myself an engaged man.

\x93Well, but I hope,\x94 said I, rousing myself from a reverie of some
minutes, and inadvertently pressing the arm which leaned upon me--\x93your
mamma will not be alarmed at our long absence?\x94

\x93Oh! not in the least; for she knows I\x92m with you.\x94

And here I felt a return of the pressure--perhaps also inadvertently
given, but which, whether or not, effectually set all my reasonings and
calculations astray; and we returned to the hotel, silent on both sides.

The appearance of la chere mamma beside the hissing tea-urn brought us
both back to ourselves; and, after an hour\x92s chatting, we wished good
night, to start on the morrow for the continent.



CHAPTER XXIII.

CALAIS.

It was upon a lovely evening in autumn, as the Dover steam-boat rounded
the wooden pier at Calais, amid a fleet of small boats filled with eager
and anxious faces, soliciting, in every species of bad English and
\x93patois\x94 [vulgar] French, the attention and patronage of the passengers.

\x93Hotel de Bain, mi lor\x92.\x94

\x93Hotel d\x92Angleterre,\x94 said another, in a voice of the most imposing
superiority.  \x93C\x92est superbe--pretty well.\x94

\x93Hotel du Nord, votre Excellence--remise de poste and \x91delays\x92 (quere
relays) at all hours.\x94

\x93Commissionaire, mi ladi,\x94 sung out a small shrill treble from the midst
of a crowded cock-boat, nearly swamped beneath our paddle-wheel.

What a scene of bustle, confusion, and excitement does the deck of a
steamer present upon such an occasion.  Every one is running hither or
thither.  \x93Sauve qui peut\x94 is now the watch-word; and friendships, that
promised a life-long endurance only half an hour ago, find here a speedy
dissolution.  The lady who slept all night upon deck, enveloped in the
folds of your Astracan cloak, scarcely deigns an acknowledgment of you,
as she adjusts her ringlets before the looking-glass over the stove in
the cabin.  The polite gentleman, that would have flown for a reticule or
a smelling-bottle upon the high seas, won\x92t leave his luggage in the
harbour; and the gallantry and devotion that stood the test of half a
gale of wind and a wet jacket, is not proof when the safety of a
carpet-bag or the security of a \x93Mackintosh\x94 is concerned.

And thus here, as elsewhere, is prosperity the touchstone of good
feeling. All the various disguises which have been assumed, per viaggio,
are here immediately abandoned, and, stripped of the travelling costume
of urbanity and courtesy, which they put on for the voyage, they stand
forth in all the unblushing front of selfishness and self-interest.

Some tender scenes yet find their place amid the debris of this chaotic
state.  Here may be seen a careful mother adjusting innumerable shawls
and handkerchiefs round the throat of a sea-green young lady with a
cough; her maid is at the same instant taking a tender farewell of the
steward in the after-cabin.

Here is a very red-faced and hot individual, with punch-coloured breeches
and gaiters, disputing \x93one brandy too much\x94 in his bill, and vowing that
the company shall hear of it when he returns to England.  There, a tall,
elderly woman, with a Scotch-grey eye, and a sharp cheek-bone, is
depositing within her muff various seizable articles, that, until now,
had been lying quietly in her trunk.  Yonder, that raw-looking young
gentleman, with the crumpled frock-coat, and loose cravat, and sea-sick
visage, is asking every one \x93if they think he may land without a
passport.\x94  You scarcely recognise him for the cigar-smoking dandy of
yesterday, that talked as if he had lived half his life on the continent.
While there, a rather pretty girl is looking intently at some object in
the blue water, beside the rudder post.  You are surprised you cannot
make it out; but then, she has the advantage of you, for the tall,
well-looking man, with the knowing whiskers, is evidently whispering
something in her ear.

\x93Steward, this is not my trunk--mine was a leather--\x94

\x93All the \x91leathers\x92 are gone in the first boat, sir.\x94

\x93Most scandalous way of doing business.\x94

\x93Trouble you for two-and-sixpence, sir.\x94

\x93There\x92s Matilda coughing again,\x94 says a thin, shrewish woman, with a
kind of triumphant scowl at her better half; \x93but you would have her wear
that thin shawl!\x94

\x93Whatever may be the fault of the shawl, I fancy no one will reproach her
ancles for thinness,\x94 murmurs a young Guard\x92s man, as he peeps up the
companion-ladder.

Amid all the Babel of tongues, and uproar of voices, the thorough bass of
the escape steam keeps up its infernal thunders, till the very brain
reels, and, sick as you have been of the voyage, you half wish yourself
once more at sea, if only to have a moment of peace and tranquillity.

Numbers now throng the deck who have never made their appearance before.
Pale, jaundiced, and crumpled, they have all the sea-sick look and
haggard cheek of the real martyr--all except one, a stout, swarthy,
brown-visaged man, of about forty, with a frame of iron, and a voice like
the fourth string of a violincello.  You wonder why he should have taken
to his bed: learn, then, that he is his Majesty\x92s courier from the
foreign office, going with despatches to Constantinople, and that as he
is not destined to lie down in a bed for the next fourteen days, he is
glad even of the narrow resemblance to one, he finds in the berth of a
steam-boat.  At length you are on shore, and marched off in a long
string, like a gang of convicts to the Bureau de l\x92octroi, and here is
begun an examination of the luggage, which promises, from its minuteness,
to last for the three months you destined to spend in Switzerland.  At
the end of an hour you discover that the soi disant commissionaire will
transact all this affair for a few francs; and, after a tiresome wait in
a filthy room, jostled, elbowed, and trampled upon, by boors with sabots,
you adjourn to your inn, and begin to feel that you are not in England.

Our little party had but few of the miseries here recounted to contend
with.  My \x93savoir faire,\x94 with all modesty be it spoken, has been long
schooled in the art and practice of travelling; and while our less
experienced fellow-travellers were deep in the novel mysteries of cotton
stockings and petticoats, most ostentatiously displayed upon every table
of the Bureau, we were comfortably seated in the handsome saloon of the
Hotel du Nord, looking out upon a pretty grass plot, surrounded with
orange trees, and displaying in the middle a jet d\x92eau about the size of
a walking stick.

\x93Now, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said Mrs. Bingham, as she seated herself by the
open window, \x93never forget how totally dependent we are upon your kind
offices.  Isabella has discovered already that the French of Mountjoy
square, however intelligible in that neighbourhood, and even as far as
Mount-street, is Coptic and Sanscrit here; and as for myself, I intend to
affect deaf and dumbness till I reach Paris, where I hear every one can
speak English a little.\x94

\x93Now, then, to begin my functions,\x94 said I, as I rung for the waiter, and
ran over in my mind rapidly how many invaluable hints for my new position
my present trip might afford me, \x93always provided\x94 (as the lawyers say,)
that Lady Jane Callonby might feel herself tempted to become my
travelling companion, in which case--But, confound it, how I am
castle-building again.  Meanwhile, Mrs. Bingham is looking as hungry and
famished as though she would eat the waiter.  Ha! this is the \x93carte.\x94

\x93Allons faire petit souper.\x94

\x93Cotelettes d\x92Agneau.\x94

\x93Maionnaise d\x92homard.\x94

\x93Perdreaux rouges aux truffes--mark that, aux truffes.\x94

\x93Gelee au maraschin.\x94

\x93And the wine, sir,\x94 said the waiter, with a look of approval at my
selection, \x93Champagne--no other wine, sir?\x94

\x93No,\x94 said I, \x93Champagne only.  Frappe de glace, of course,\x94 I added, and
the waiter departed with a bow that would have graced St. James\x92s.

As long as our immaterial and better part shall be doomed to keep company
with its fleshy tabernacle, with all its attendant miseries of gout and
indigestion, how much of our enjoyment in this world is dependent upon
the mere accessory circumstances by which the business of life is carried
on and maintained, and to despise which is neither good policy nor sound
philosophy.  In this conclusion a somewhat long experience of the life of
a traveller has fully established me.  And no where does it press more
forcibly upon the mind than when first arrived in a continental inn,
after leaving the best hotels of England still fresh in your memory.  I
do not for a moment dispute the very great superiority in comfort of the
latter, by which I would be understood to mean all those resemblances to
one\x92s own home which an English hotel so eminently possesses, and every
other one so markedly wants; but I mean that in contrivances to elevate
the spirit, cheer the jaded and tired wayfarer by objects which, however
they may appeal to the mere senses, seem, at least, but little sensual,
give me a foreign inn; let me have a large spacious saloon, with its
lofty walls and its airy, large-paned windows, (I shall not object if the
cornices and mouldings be gilded, because such is usually the case,)--let
the sun and heat of a summer\x92s day come tempered through the deep
lattices of a well-fitting \x93jalousie,\x94 bearing upon them the rich incense
of a fragrant orange tree in blossom--and the sparkling drops of a
neighbouring fountain, the gentle plash of which is faintly audible amid
the hum of the drone-bee--let such be the \x93agremens\x94 without--while
within, let the more substantial joys of the table await, in such guise
as only a French cuisine can present them--give me these, I say, and I
shall never sigh for the far-famed and long-deplored comforts of a box in
a coffee-room, like a pew in a parish church, though certainly not so
well cushioned, and fully as dull, with a hot waiter and a cold
beefsteak--the only thing higher than your game being your bill, and the
only thing less drinkable than your port being the porter.

With such exotic notions, figures vous, my dear reader, whether or not I
felt happy as I found myself seated between my two fair friends doing the
honours of a little supper, and assisting the exhilaration of our
champagne by such efforts of wit as, under favourable circumstances like
these, are ever successful--and which, being like the foaming liquid
which washes them down, to be swallowed without waiting, are ever
esteemed good, from the excitement that results, and never seriously
canvassed for any more sterling merit.  Nothing ever makes a man so
agreeable as the belief that he is so: and certainly my fair companions
appeared to have the most excellent idea of my powers in that respect;
and I fancy, that I made more bon mots, hit off more epigrams, and
invented more choice incidents on that happy evening, than, if now
remembered, would suffice to pay my tailor\x92s bill, when collated for
Bentley\x92s Miscellany, and illustrated by Cruikshank--alas! that, like the
good liquor that seasoned them, both are gone by, and I am left but to
chronicle their memory of the fun, in dulness, and counterfeit the
effervescence of the grape juice, by soda water.  One thing, however, is
certain--we formed a most agreeable party; and if a feeling of gloom ever
momentarily shot through my mind, it was, that evenings like these came
so rarely in this work-a-day world--that each such should be looked on,
as our last.

If I had not already shown myself up to my reader as a garcon volage of
the first water, perhaps I should now hesitate about confessing that I
half regretted the short space during which it should be my privilege to
act as the guide and mentor of my two friends.  The impetuous haste which
I before felt necessary to exercise in reaching Paris immediately, was
not tempered by prudent thoughts about travelling at night, and
reflections about sun-stroke by day; and even moments most devoted to the
object of my heart\x92s aspirations were fettered by the very philosophic
idea, that it could never detract from the pleasure of the happiness that
awaited me, if I travelled on the primrose path to its attainment.  I
argued thus: if Lady Jane be true--if--if, in a word, I am destined to
have any success in the Callonby family, then will a day or two more not
risk it.  My present friends I shall, of course, take leave of at Paris,
where their own acquaintances await them; and, on the other hand, should
I be doomed once more to disappointment, I am equally certain I should
feel no disposition to form a new attachment.  Thus did I reason, and
thus I believed; and though I was a kind of consultation opinion among my
friends in \x93suits of love,\x94 I was really then unaware that at no time is
a man so prone to fall in love as immediately after his being jilted.  If
common sense will teach us not to dance a bolero upon a sprained ancle,
so might it also convey the equally important lesson, not to expose our
more vital and inflammatory organ to the fire the day after its being
singed.

Reflections like these did not occur to me at this moment; besides that I
was \x93going the pace\x94 with a forty-horse power of agreeability that left
me little time for thought--least of all, if serious.  So stood matters.
I had just filled our tall slender glasses with the creaming and
\x93petillan\x94 source of wit and inspiration, when the loud crack, crack,
crack of a postillion\x92s whip, accompanied by the shaking trot of a heavy
team, and the roll of wheels, announced a new arrival.  \x93Here they come,\x94
 said I, \x93only look at them--four horses and one postillion, all
apparently straggling and straying after their own fancy, but yet going
surprisingly straight notwithstanding.  See how they come through that
narrow archway--it might puzzle the best four-in-hand in England to do it
better.\x94

\x93What a handsome young man, if he had not those odious moustaches.  Why,
Mr. Lorrequer, he knows you: see, he is bowing to you.\x94

\x93Me!  Oh! no.  Why, surely, it must be--the devil--it is Kilkee, Lady
Jane\x92s brother.  I know his temper well.  One five minutes\x92 observation
of my present intimacy with my fair friends, and adieu to all hopes for
me of calling Lord Callonby my father-in-law.  There is not therefore, a
moment to lose.\x94

As these thoughts revolved through my mind, the confusion I felt had
covered my face with scarlet; and, with a species of blundering apology
for abruptly leaving them for a moment, I ran down stairs only in time
sufficient to anticipate Kilkee\x92s questions as to the number of my
apartments, to which he was desirous of proceeding at once.  Our first
greetings over, Kilkee questioned me as to my route--adding, that his now
was necessarily an undecided one, for if his family happened not to be at
Paris, he should be obliged to seek after them among the German
watering-places.  \x93In any case, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said he, \x93we shall hunt
them in couples.  I must insist upon your coming along with me.\x94

\x93Oh! that,\x94 said I, \x93you must not think of.  Your carriage is a coupe,
and I cannot think of crowding you.\x94

\x93Why, you don\x92t seriously want to affront me, I hope, for I flatter
myself that a more perfect carriage for two people cannot be built.
Hobson made it on a plan of my own, and I am excessively proud of it,
I assure you.  Come, that matter is decided--now for supper.  Are there
many English here just now?--By-the-by, those new \x91natives\x92 I think I saw
you standing with on the balcony--who are they?\x94

\x93Oh! the ladies--oh! Yes, people I came over with--\x94

\x93One was pretty, I fancied.  Have you supped?  Just order something, will
you--meanwhile, I shall write a few lines before the post leaves.\x94
 --Saying which, he dashed up stairs after the waiter, and left me to my
meditations.

\x93This begins to be pleasant,\x94 thought I, as the door closed, leaving me
alone in the \x93salon.\x94  In circumstances of such moment, I had never felt
so nonplussed as now, how to decline Kilkee\x92s invitation, without
discovering my intimacy with the Binghams--and yet I could not, by any
possibility, desert them thus abruptly.  Such was the dilemma.  \x93I see
but one thing for it,\x94 said I, gloomily, as I strode through the
coffee-room, with my head sunk and my hands behind my back--\x93I see but
one thing left--I must be taken ill to-night, and not be able to leave
my bed in the morning--a fever--a contagious fever--blue and red spots
all over me--and be raving wildly before breakfast time; and if ever
any discovery takes place of my intimacy above stairs, I must only
establish it as a premonitory symptom of insanity, which seized me in
the packet.  And now for a doctor that will understand my case, and
listen to reason, as they would call it in Ireland.\x94  With this idea
uppermost, I walked out into the court-yard to look for a commissionaire
to guide me in my search. Around on every side of me stood the various
carriages and voitures of the hotel and its inmates, to the full as
distinctive and peculiar in character as their owners.  \x93Ah! there is
Kilkee\x92s,\x94 said I, as my eye lighted upon the well-balanced and elegant
little carriage which he had been only with justice encomiumizing.  \x93It
is certainly perfect, and yet I\x92d give a handful of louis-d\x92ors it was
like that venerable cabriolet yonder, with the one wheel and no shafts.
But, alas! these springs give little hope of a break down, and that
confounded axle will outlive the patentee.  But still, can nothing be
done?--eh?  Come, the thought is a good one--I say, garcon, who greases
the wheels of the carriage here?\x94

\x93C\x92est moi, monsieur,\x94 said a great oaf, in wooden shoes and a blouse.

\x93Well, then, do you understand these?\x94 said I, touching the patent
axle-boxes with my cane.

He shook his head.

\x93Then who does, here?\x94

\x93Ah!  Michael understands them perfectly.\x94

\x93Then bring him here,\x94 said I.

In a few minutes, a little shrewd old fellow, with a smith\x92s apron, made
his appearance, and introduced himself as M. Michael.  I had not much
difficulty in making him master of my plan, which was, to detach one of
the wheels as if for the purpose of oiling the axle, and afterwards
render it incapable of being replaced--at least for twenty-four hours.

\x93This is my idea,\x94 said I; \x93nevertheless, do not be influenced by me.
All I ask is, disable the carriage from proceeding to-morrow, and here
are three louis-d\x92ors at your service.\x94

\x93Soyez bien tranquille, monsieur, mi lor\x92 shall spend to-morrow in
Calais, if I know any thing of my art\x94--saying which he set out in search
of his tools, while I returned to the salon with my mind relieved, and
fully prepared to press the urgency of my reaching Paris without any
delay.

\x93Well, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said Kilkee, as I entered, \x93here is supper
waiting, and I am as hungry as a wolf.\x94

\x93Oh! I beg pardon--I\x92ve been getting every thing in readiness for our
start to-morrow morning, for I have not told you how anxious I am to get
to Paris before the 8th--some family business, which requires my looking
after, compelling me to do so.\x94

\x93As to that, let your mind be at rest, for I shall travel to-morrow night
if you prefer it.  Now for the Volnay.  Why you are not drinking your
wine.  What do you say to our paying our respects to the fair ladies
above stairs?  I am sure the petits soins you have practised coming over
would permit the liberty.\x94

\x93Oh! hang it, no.  There\x92s neither of them pretty, and I should rather
avoid the risk of making a regular acquaintance with them\x94 said I.

\x93As you like, then--only, as you\x92ll not take any wine, let us have a
stroll through the town.\x94

After a short stroll through the town, in which Kilkee talked the entire
time, but of what I know not, my thoughts being upon my own immediate
concerns, we returned to the hotel.  As we entered the porte-couchere, my
friend Michael passed me, and as he took off his hat in salutation, gave
me one rapid glance of his knowing eye that completely satisfied me that
Hobson\x92s pride in my friend\x92s carriage had by that time received quite
sufficient provocation to throw him into an apoplexy.

\x93By-the-by,\x94 said I, \x93let us see your carriage.  I am curious to look at
it\x94--(and so I was.)

\x93Well, then come along, this way; they have placed it under some of these
sheds, which they think coach-houses.\x94

I followed my friend through the court till we arrived near the fatal
spot; but before reaching, he had caught a glimpse of the mischief, and
shouted out a most awful imprecation upon the author of the deed which
met his eye.  The fore-wheel of the coupe had been taken from the axle,
and in the difficulty of so doing, from the excellence of the
workmanship, two of the spokes were broken--the patent box was a mass of
rent metal, and the end of the axle turned downwards like a hoe.

I cannot convey any idea of poor Kilkee\x92s distraction; and, in reality,
my own was little short of it; for the wretch had so far out-stripped my
orders, that I became horrified at the cruel destruction before me.  We
both, therefore, stormed in the most imposing English and French, first
separately and then together.  We offered a reward for the apprehension
of the culprit, whom no one appeared to know, although, as it happened,
every one in a large household was aware of the transaction but the
proprietor himself.  We abused all--innkeeper, waiters, ostlers, and
chambermaids, collectively and individually--condemned Calais as a den of
iniquity, and branded all Frenchmen as rogues and vagabonds.  This seemed
to alleviate considerably my friend\x92s grief, and excite my thirst
--fortunately, perhaps for us; for if our eloquence had held out much
longer, I am afraid our auditory might have lost their patience; and,
indeed, I am quite certain if our French had not been in nearly as
disjointed a condition as the spokes of the caleche, such must have been
the case.

\x93Well, Mr. Lorrequer, I suppose, then, we are not destined to be
fellow-travellers--for if you must go to-morrow--\x94

\x93Alas! It is imperative,\x94 said I.

\x93Then in any case, let us arrange where we shall meet, for I hope to be
in Paris the day after you.\x94

\x93I\x92ll stop at Meurice.\x94

\x93Meurice, be it,\x94 said he, \x93so now good night, till we meet in Paris.\x94



THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Vol. 4

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.



Volume 4. (Chapter XXIV-XXVIII)


Contents:

CHAPTER XXIV
The Gen d\x92Arme

CHAPTER XXV
The Inn at Chantraine

CHAPTER XXVI
Mr O\x92Leary

CHAPTER XXVII
Paris

CHAPTER XXVIII
Paris



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GEN D\x92ARME.

I had fortunately sufficient influence upon my fair friends to persuade
them to leave Calais early on the morning following; and two hours before
Kilkee had opened his eyes upon this mortal life, we were far upon the
road to Paris.

Having thus far perfectly succeeded in my plot, my spirit rose rapidly,
and I made every exertion to make the road appear short to my
fellow-travellers.  This part of France is unfortunately deficient in any
interest from scenery; large undivided tracts of waving cornfields, with
a back-ground of apparently interminable forests, and occasionally, but
rarely, the glimpse of some old time-worn chateau, with its pointed gable
and terraced walk, are nearly all that the eye can detect in the
intervals between the small towns and villages.  Nothing, however, is
\x93flat or unprofitable\x94 to those who desire to make it otherwise; good
health, good spirits, and fine weather, are wonderful travelling
companions, and render one tolerably independent of the charms of
scenery.  Every mile that separated me from Calais, and took away the
chance of being overtaken, added to my gaiety, and I flatter myself that
a happier party have rarely travelled that well frequented road.

We reached Abbeville to dinner, and adjourned to the beautiful little
garden of the inn for our coffee; the evening was so delightful that I
proposed to walk on the Paris road, until the coming up of the carriage,
which required a screw, or a washer, or some such trifle as always occurs
in French posting.  To this la chere mamma objected, she being tired, but
added, that Isabella and I might go on, and that she would take us up in
half an hour.  This was an arrangement so very agreeable and unlooked for
by me, that I pressed Miss Bingham as far as I well could, and at last
succeeded in overcoming her scruples, and permitting me to shawl her.
One has always a tremendous power of argument with the uninitiated
abroad, by a reference to a standard of manners and habits totally
different from our own.  Thus the talismanic words--\x93Oh! don\x92t be
shocked; remember you are in France,\x94 did more to satisfy my young
friend\x92s mind than all I could have said for an hour.  Little did she
know that in England only, has an unmarried young lady any liberty, and
that the standard of foreign propriety on this head is far, very far more
rigid than our own.

\x93La premiere Rue a gauche,\x94 said an old man of whom I inquired the road;
\x93et puis,\x94 added I.

\x93And then quite straight; it is a chaussee all the way, and you cannot
mistake it.\x94

\x93Now for it, mademoiselle,\x94 said I.  \x93Let us try if we cannot see a good
deal of the country before the carriage comes up.\x94

We had soon left the town behind and reached a beautifully shaded high
road, with blossoming fruit trees, and honeysuckle-covered cottages;
there had been several light showers during the day, and the air had all
the fresh fragrant feeling of an autumn evening, so tranquillizing and
calming that few there are who have not felt at some time or other of
their lives, its influence upon their minds.  I fancied my fair companion
did so, for, as she walked beside me, her silence, and the gentle
pressure of her arm, were far more eloquent than words.

If that extraordinary flutter and flurry of sensations which will now and
then seize you, when walking upon a lonely country road with a pretty
girl for your companion, whose arm is linked in yours, and whose
thoughts, as far you can guess at least, are travelling the same path
with your own--if this be animal magnetism, or one of its phenomena, then
do I swear by Mesmer, whatever it be, delusion or otherwise, it has given
me the brightest moments of my life--these are the real \x93winged dreams\x94
 of pleasures which outlive others of more absorbing and actual interest
at the time.  After all, for how many of our happiest feelings are we
indebted to the weakness of our nature.  The man that is wise at
nineteen, \x93Je l\x92en fais mon compliment,\x94 but I assuredly do not envy him;
and now, even now, when I number more years than I should like to
\x93confess,\x94 rather than suffer the suspicious watchfulness of age to creep
on me, I prefer to \x93go on believing,\x94 even though every hour of the day
should show me, duped and deceived.  While I plead guilty to this
impeachment, let me show mitigation, that it has its enjoyments--first,
although I am the most constant and devoted man breathing, as a very
cursory glance at these confessions may prove, yet I have never been able
to restrain myself from a propensity to make love, merely as a pastime.
The gambler that sits down to play cards, or hazard against himself, may
perhaps be the only person that can comprehend this tendency of mine.  We
both of us are playing for nothing (or love, which I suppose is
synonymous;) we neither of us put forth our strength; for that very
reason, and in fact like the waiter at Vauxhall who was complimented upon
the dexterity with which he poured out the lemonade, and confessed that
he spent his mornings \x93practising with vater,\x94 we pass a considerable
portion of our lives in a mimic warfare, which, if it seem unprofitable,
is, nevertheless, pleasant.

After all this long tirade, need I say how our walk proceeded?  We had
fallen into a kind of discussion upon the singular intimacy which had so
rapidly grown up amongst us, and which years long might have failed to
engender.  Our attempts to analyse the reasons for, and the nature of the
friendship thus so suddenly established--a rather dangerous and difficult
topic, when the parties are both young--one eminently handsome, and the
other disposed to be most agreeable.  Oh, my dear young friends of either
sex, whatever your feelings be for one another, keep them to yourselves;
I know of nothing half so hazardous as that \x93comparing of notes\x94 which
sometimes happens.  Analysis is a beautiful thing in mathematics or
chemistry, but it makes sad havoc when applied to the \x93functions of the
heart.\x94

\x93Mamma appears to have forgotten us,\x94 said Isabella, as she spoke, after
walking for some time in silence beside me.

\x93Oh, depend upon it, the carriage has taken all this time to repair; but
are you tired?\x94

\x93Oh, by no means; the evening is delightful, but--\x94

\x93Then perhaps you are ennuyee,\x94 said I, half pettishly, to provoke a
disclaimer if possible.  To this insidiously put quere I received, as I
deserved, no answer, and again we sauntered on without speaking.

\x93To whom does that chateau belong, my old friend?\x94 said I addressing a
man on the road-side.

\x93A Monsieur le Marquis, sir,\x94 replied he.

\x93But what\x92s his name, though?\x94

\x93Ah, that I can\x92t tell you,\x94 replied the man again.

There you may perceive how, even yet, in provincial France, the old
respect for the aristocracy still survives; it is sufficient that the
possessor of that fine place is \x93Monsieur le Marquis;\x94 but any other
knowledge of who he is, and what, is superfluous.  \x93How far are we from
the next village, do you know?\x94

\x93About a league.\x94

\x93Indeed.  Why I thought \x91La Scarpe\x92 was quite near us.\x94

\x93Ah, you are thinking of the Amiens road.\x94

\x93Yes, of course; and is not this the Amiens road?\x94

\x93Oh, no; the Amiens road lies beyond those low hills to the right.  You
passed the turn at the first \x91barriere\x92.\x94

\x93Is it possible we could have come wrong?\x94

\x93Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, don\x92t say so, I entreat of you.\x94

\x93And what road is this, then, my friend?\x94

\x93This is the road to Albert and Peronne.\x94

\x93Unfortunately, I believe he is quite right.  Is there any crossroad from
the village before us now, to the Amiens road?\x94

\x93Yes; you can reach it about three leagues hence.\x94

\x93And we can get a carriage at the inn probably?\x94

\x93Ah, that I am not sure of--.  Perhaps at the Lion d\x92or you may.\x94

\x93But why not go back to Abbeville?\x94

\x93Oh, Mrs. Bingham must have left long since, and beside you forget the
distance; we have been walking two hours.\x94

\x93Now for the village,\x94 said I, as I drew my friend\x92s arm closer within
mine, and we set out in a fast walk.

Isabella seemed terribly frightened at the whole affair; what her mamma
might think, and what might be her fears at not finding us on the road,
and a hundred other encouraging reflections of this nature she poured
forth unceasingly.  As for myself, I did not know well what to think of
it; my old fondness for adventure being ever sufficiently strong in me to
give a relish to any thing which bore the least resemblance to one.  This
I now concealed, and sympathised with my fair friend upon our mishap, and
assuring her, at the same time, that there could be no doubt of our
overtaking Mrs. Bingham before her arrival at Amiens.

\x93Ah, there is the village in the valley; how beautifully situated.\x94

\x93Oh, I can\x92t admire any thing now, Mr. Lorrequer, I am so frightened.\x94

\x93But surely without cause,\x94 said I, looking tenderly beneath her bonnet.

\x93Is this,\x94 she answered, \x93nothing,\x94 and we walked on in silence again.

On reaching the Lion d\x92or we discovered that the only conveyance to be
had was a species of open market-cart drawn by two horses, and in which
it was necessary that my fair friend and myself should seat ourselves
side by side upon straw: there was no choice, and as for Miss Bingham,
I believe if an ass with panniers had presented itself, she would have
preferred it to remaining where she was.  We therefore took our places,
and she could not refrain from laughing as we set out upon our journey in
this absurd equipage, every jolt of which threw us from side to side, and
rendered every attention on my part requisite to prevent her being upset.

After about two hours\x92 travelling we arrived at the Amiens road, and
stopped at the barriere.  I immediately inquired if a carriage had
passed, resembling Mrs. Bingham\x92s, and learned that it had, about an hour
before, and that the lady in it had been informed that two persons, like
those she asked after, had been seen in a caleche driving rapidly to
Amiens, upon which she set out as fast as possible in pursuit.

\x93Certainly,\x94 said I, \x93the plot is thickening; but for that unlucky
mistake she might in all probability have waited here for us.  Amiens is
only two leagues now, so our drive will not be long, and before six
o\x92clock we shall all be laughing over the matter as a very good joke.\x94

On we rattled, and as the road became less frequented, and the shadows
lengthened, I could not but wonder at the strange situations which the
adventurous character of my life had so often involved me in.  Meanwhile,
my fair friend\x92s spirits became more and more depressed, and it was not
without the greatest difficulty I was enabled to support her courage.  I
assured her, and not altogether without reason, that though so often in
my eventful career accidents were occurring which rendered it dubious and
difficult to reach the goal I aimed at, yet the results had so often been
more pleasant than I could have anticipated, that I always felt a kind of
involuntary satisfaction at some apparent obstacle to my path, setting it
down as some especial means of fortune, to heighten the pleasure awaiting
me; \x93and now,\x94 added I, \x93even here, perhaps, in this very mistake of our
road--the sentiments I have heard--the feelings I have given utterance
to--\x94  What I was about to say, heaven knows--perhaps nothing less than a
downright proposal was coming; but at that critical moment a gen-d\x92arme
rode up to the side of our waggon, and surveyed us with the peculiarly
significant scowl his order is gifted with.  After trotting alongside for
a few seconds he ordered the driver to halt, and, turning abruptly to us,
demanded our passports.  Now our passports were, at that precise moment,
peaceably reposing in the side pocket of Mrs. Bingham\x92s carriage; I
therefore explained to the gen-d\x92arme how we were circumstanced, and
added, that on arriving at Amiens the passport should be produced.  To
this he replied that all might be perfectly true, but he did not believe
a word of it--that he had received an order for the apprehension of two
English persons travelling that road--and that he should accordingly
request our company back to Chantraine, the commissionaire of which place
was his officer.

\x93But why not take us to Amiens,\x94 said I; \x93particularly when I tell you
that we can then show our passports?\x94

\x93I belong to the Chantraine district,\x94 was the laconic answer; and like
the gentleman who could not weep at the sermon because he belonged to
another parish, this specimen of a French Dogberry would not hear reason
except in his own \x93commune.\x94

No arguments which I could think of had any effect upon him, and amid a
volley of entreaty and imprecation, both equally vain, we saw ourselves
turn back upon the road to Amiens, and set out at a round trot to
Chantraine, on the road to Calais.

Poor Isabella, I really pitied her; hitherto her courage had been
principally sustained by the prospect of soon reaching Amiens; now there
was no seeing where our adventure was to end.  Besides that, actual
fatigue from the wretched conveyance began to distress her, and she was
scarcely able to support herself, though assisted by my arm.  What a
perilous position mine, whispering consolation and comfort to a pretty
girl on a lonely road, the only person near being one who comprehended
nothing of the language we spoke in.  Ah, how little do we know of fate,
and how often do we despise circumstances that determine all our fortunes
in the world.  To think that a gen-d\x92arme should have any thing to do
with my future lot in life, and that the real want of a passport to
travel should involve the probable want of a licence to marry.  Yes, it
is quite in keeping, thought I, with every step I have taken through
life.  I may be brought before the \x93maire\x94 as a culprit, and leave him as
a Benedict.

On reaching the town, we were not permitted to drive to the inn, but at
once conveyed to the house of the \x93commissaire,\x94 who was also the \x93maire\x94
 of the district.  The worthy functionary was long since in bed, and it
was only after ringing violently for half an hour that a head, surmounted
with a dirty cotton night-cap, peeped from an upper window, and seemed to
survey the assemblage beneath with patient attention.  By this time a
considerable crowd had collected from the neighbouring ale-houses and
cabarets, who deemed it a most fitting occasion to honour us with the
most infernal yells and shouts, as indicating their love of justice, and
delight in detecting knavery; and that we were both involved in such
suspicion, we had not long to learn.  Meanwhile the poor old maire, who
had been an employe in the stormy days of the revolution, and also under
Napoleon, and who full concurred with Swift that \x93a crowd is a mob, if
composed even of bishops,\x94 firmly believed that the uproar beneath in the
street was the announcement of a new change of affairs at Paris,
determined to be early in the field, and shouted therefore with all his
lungs--\x93vive le peuple\x94--\x93Vive la charte\x94--\x93A bas les autres.\x94  A
tremendous shout of laughter saluted this exhibition of unexpected
republicanism, and the poor maire retired from the window, having learned
his mistake, covered with shame and confusion.

Before the mirth caused by this blunder had subsided, the door had
opened, and we were ushered into the bureau of the commissaire,
accompanied by the anxious crowd, all curious to know the particulars of
our crime.

The maire soon appeared, his night-cap being replaced by a small black
velvet skull-cap, and his lanky figure enveloped in a tarnished silk
dressing-gown; he permitted us to be seated, while the gen-d\x92arme
recounted the suspicious circumstances of our travelling, and produced
the order to arrest an Englishman and his wife who had arrived in one of
the late Boulogne packets, and who had carried off from some
banking-house money and bills for a large amount.

\x93I have no doubt these are the people,\x94 said the gen-d\x92arme; \x93and here is
the \x91carte descriptive.\x92  Let us compare it--\x91Forty-two or forty-three
years of age.\x92\x94

\x93I trust, M. le Maire,\x94 said I, overhearing this, \x93that ladies do not
recognize me as so much.\x94

\x93Of a pale and cadaverous aspect,\x94 continued the gen-d\x92arme.

Upon this the old functionary, wiping his spectacles with a snuffy
handkerchief, as if preparing them to examine an eclipse of the sun,
regarded me fixedly for several minutes, and said--\x93Oh, yes, I perceive
it plainly; continue the description.\x94

\x93Five feet three inches,\x94 said the gen-d\x92arme.

\x93Six feet one in England, whatever this climate may have done since.\x94

\x93Speaks broken and bad French.\x94

\x93Like a native,\x94 said I; \x93at least so said my friends in the chaussee
D\x92Antin, in the year fifteen.\x94

Here the catalogue ended, and a short conference between the maire and
the gen-d\x92arme ensued, which ended in our being committed for examination
on the morrow; meanwhile we were to remain at the inn, under the
surveillance of the gen-d\x92arme.

On reaching the inn my poor friend was so completely exhausted that she
at once retired to her room, and I proceeded to fulfil a promise I had
made her to despatch a note to Mrs. Bingham at Amiens by a special
messenger, acquainting her with all our mishaps, and requesting her to
come or send to our assistance.  This done, and a good supper smoking
before me, of which with difficulty I persuaded Isabella to partake in
her own room, I again regained my equanimity, and felt once more at ease.

The gen-d\x92arme in whose guardianship I had been left was a fine specimen
of his caste; a large and powerfully built man of about fifty, with an
enormous beard of grizzly brown and grey hair, meeting above and beneath
his nether lip; his eyebrows were heavy and beetling, and nearly
concealed his sharp grey eyes, while a deep sabre-wound had left upon his
cheek a long white scar, giving a most warlike and ferocious look to his
features.

As he sat apart from me for some time, silent and motionless, I could not
help imagining in how many a hard-fought day he had borne a part, for he
evidently, from his age and bearing, had been one of the soldiers of the
empire.  I invited him to partake of my bottle of Medoc, by which he
seemed flattered.  When the flask became low, and was replaced by
another, he appeared to have lost much of his constrained air, and
seemed forgetting rapidly the suspicious circumstances which he supposed
attached to me--waxed wondrous confidential and communicative, and
condescended to impart some traits of a life which was not without its
vicissitudes, for he had been, as I suspected, one of the \x93Guarde\x94--the
old guarde--was wounded at Marengo, and received the croix d\x92honneur in
the field of Wagram, from the hands of the Emperor himself.  The headlong
enthusiasm of attachment to Napoleon, which his brief and stormy career
elicited even from those who suffered long and deeply in his behalf, is
not one of the least singular circumstances which this portion of history
displays.  While the rigours of the conscription had invaded every family
in France, from Normandie to La Vendee--while the untilled fields, the
ruined granaries, the half-deserted villages, all attested the
depopulation of the land, those talismanic words, \x93l\x92Empereur et la
gloire,\x94 by some magic mechanism seemed all-sufficient not only to
repress regret and suffering, but even stimulate pride, and nourish
valour; and even yet, when it might be supposed that like the brilliant
glass of a magic lantern, the gaudy pageant had passed away, leaving only
the darkness and desolation behind it--the memory of those days under the
empire survives untarnished and unimpaired, and every sacrifice of
friends or fortune is accounted but little in the balance when the honour
of La Belle France, and the triumphs of the grand \x93armee,\x94 are weighted
against them.  The infatuated and enthusiastic followers of this great
man would seem, in some respects, to resemble the drunkard in the
\x93Vaudeville,\x94 who alleged as his excuse for drinking, that whenever he
was sober his poverty disgusted him.  \x93My cabin,\x94 said he, \x93is a cell, my
wife a mass of old rags, my child a wretched object of misery and malady.
But give me brandy; let me only have that, and then my hut is a palace,
my wife is a princess, and my child the very picture of health and
happiness;\x94 so with these people--intoxicated with the triumphs of their
nation, \x93tete monte\x94 with victory--they cannot exist in the horror of
sobriety which peace necessarily enforces; and whenever the subject turns
in conversation upon the distresses of the time or the evil prospects of
the country, they call out, not like the drunkard, for brandy, but in the
same spirit they say--\x93Ah, if you would again see France flourishing and
happy, let us once more have our croix d\x92honneur, our epaulettes, our
voluntary contributions, our Murillos, our Velasquez, our spoils from
Venice, and our increased territories to rule over.\x94  This is the
language of the Buonapartiste every where, and at all seasons; and the
mass of the nation is wonderfully disposed to participate in the
sentiment.  The empire was the Aeneid of the nation, and Napoleon the
only hero they now believe in.  You may satisfy yourself of this easily.
Every cafe will give evidence of it, every society bears its testimony to
it, and even the most wretched Vaudeville, however, trivial the interest
--however meagre the story, and poor the diction, let the emperor but
have his \x93role\x94--let him be as laconic as possible, carry his hands
behind his back, wear the well-known low cocked-hat, and the \x93redingote
gris\x94--the success is certain--every sentence he utters is applauded, and
not a single allusion to the Pyramids, the sun of Austerlitz, l\x92honneur,
et al vieille garde, but is sure to bring down thunders of acclamation.
But I am forgetting myself, and perhaps my reader too; the conversation
of the old gen-d\x92arme accidentally led me into reflections like these,
and he was well calculated, in many ways, to call them forth.  His
devoted attachment--his personal love of the emperor--of which he gave me
some touching instances, was admirably illustrated by an incident, which
I am inclined to tell, and hope it may amuse the reader as much as it did
myself on hearing it.

When Napoleon had taken possession of the papal dominions, as he
virtually did, and carried off the pope, Pius VI, to Paris, this old
soldier, then a musketeer in the garde, formed part of the company that
mounted guard over the holy father.  During the earlier months of the
holy father\x92s confinement he was at liberty to leave his apartments at
any hour he pleased, and cross the court-yard of the palace to the chapel
where he performed mass.  At such moments the portion of the Imperial
Guard then on duty stood under arms, and received from the august hand of
the pope his benediction as he passed.  But one morning a hasty express
arrived from the Tuilleries, and the officer on duty communicated his
instructions to his party, that the apostolic vicar was not to be
permitted to pass, as heretofore, to the chapel, and that a most rigid
superintendence was to be exercised over his movements.  My poor
companion had his turn for duty on that ill-starred day; he had not been
long at his post when the sound of footsteps was heard approaching, and
he soon saw the procession which always attended the holy father to his
devotions, advancing towards him; he immediately placed himself across
the passage, and with his musket in rest barred the exit, declaring, at
the same time, that such were his orders. In vain the priests who formed
the cortege addressed themselves to his heart, and spoke to his feelings,
and at last finding little success by these methods, explained to him the
mortal sin and crime for which eternal damnation itself might not be a
too heavy retribution if he persisted in preventing his holiness to pass,
and thus be the means of opposing an obstacle to the head of the whole
Catholic church, for celebrating the mass; the soldier remained firm and
unmoved, the only answer he returned being, \x93that he had his orders, and
dared not disobey them.\x94  The pope, however, persisted in his resolution,
and endeavoured to get by, when the hardy veteran retreated a step, and
placing his musket and bayonet at the charge, called out \x93au nom de
l\x92Empereur,\x94 when the pious party at last yielded and slowly retired
within the palace.

Not many days after, this severe restriction was recalled, and once more
the father was permitted to go to and from the chapel of the palace, at
such times as he pleased, and again, as before, in passing the corridor,
the guards presented arms and received the holy benediction, all except
one; upon him the head of the church frowned severely, and turned his
back, while extending his pious hands towards the others.  \x93And yet,\x94
 said the poor fellow in concluding his story, \x93and yet I could not have
done otherwise; I had my orders and must have followed them, and had the
emperor commanded it, I should have run my bayonet through the body of
the holy father himself.

\x93Thus, you see, my dear sir, how I have loved the emperor, for I have
many a day stood under fire for him in this world, \x91et il faut que
j\x92aille encore au feu pour lui apres ma mort.\x92.\x94

He received in good part the consolations I offered him on this head, but
I plainly saw they did not, could not relieve his mind from the horrible
conviction he lay under, that his soul\x92s safety for ever had been
bartered for his attachment to the emperor.

This story had brought us to the end of the third bottle of Medoc; and,
as I was neither the pope, nor had any very decided intentions of saying
mass, he offered no obstacle to my retiring for the night, and betaking
myself to my bed.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE INN AT CHANTRAINE.

When contrasted with the comforts of an English bed-room in a good hotel,
how miserably short does the appearance of a French one fall in the
estimation of the tired traveller.  In exchange for the carpeted floor,
the well-curtained windows, the richly tapestried bed, the well cushioned
arm-chair, and the innumerable other luxuries which await him; he has
nought but a narrow, uncurtained bed, a bare floor, occasionally a
flagged one, three hard cane-bottomed chairs, and a looking-glass which
may convey an idea of how you would look under the combined influence of
the cholera, and a stroke of apoplexy, one half of your face being twice
the length of the other, and the entire of it of a bluish-green
tint--pretty enough in one of Turner\x92s landscapes, but not at all
becoming when applied to the \x93human face divine.\x94  Let no late arrival
from the continent contradict me here by his late experiences, which a
stray twenty pounds and the railroads--(confound them for the same)
--have enabled him to acquire.  I speak of matters before it occurred to
all Charing-Cross and Cheapside to \x93take the water\x94 between Dover and
Calais, and inundate the world with the wit of the Cider Cellar, and the
Hole in the Wall.  No!  In the days I write of, the travelled were of
another genus, and you might dine at Very\x92s or have your loge at \x93Les
Italiens,\x94 without being dunned by your tailor at the one, or confronted
with your washer-woman at the other.  Perhaps I have written all this in
the spite and malice of a man who feels that his louis-d\x92or only goes
half as far now as heretofore; and attributes all his diminished
enjoyments and restricted luxuries to the unceasing current of his
countrymen, whom fate, and the law of imprisonment for debt, impel
hither.  Whether I am so far guilty or not, is not now the question;
suffice it to say, that Harry Lorrequer, for reasons best known to
himself, lives abroad, where he will be most happy to see any of his old
and former friends who take his quarters en route; and in the words of a
bellicose brother of the pen, but in a far different spirit, he would
add, \x93that any person who feels himself here alluded to, may learn the
author\x92s address at his publishers.\x94  \x93Now let us go back to our
muttons,\x94 as Barney Coyle used to say in the Dublin Library formerly
--for Barney was fond of French allusions, which occasionally too he
gave in their own tongue, as once describing an interview with Lord
Cloncurry, in which he broke off suddenly the conference, adding, \x93I
told him I never could consent to such a proposition, and putting my
chateau (chapeau) on my head, I left the house at once.\x94

It was nearly three o\x92clock in the morning, as accompanied by the
waiter, who, like others of his tribe, had become a kind of somnambulist
ex-officio, I wended my way up one flight of stairs, and down another,
along a narrow corridor, down two steps, through an antechamber, and
into another corridor, to No. 82, my habitation for the night.  Why I
should have been so far conducted from the habitable portion of the
house I had spent my evening in, I leave the learned in such matters to
explain; as for me, I have ever remarked it, while asking for a chamber
in a large roomy hotel, the singular pride with which you are ushered up
grand stair-cases, down passages, through corridors, and up narrow back
flights, till the blue sky is seen through the sky-light, to No. 199,
\x93the only spare bed-room in the house,\x94 while the silence and desolation
of the whole establishment would seem to imply far otherwise--the only
evidence of occupation being a pair of dirty Wellingtons at the door of
No. 2.

\x93Well, we have arrived at last,\x94 said I, drawing a deep sigh, as I threw
myself upon a ricketty chair, and surveyed rapidly my meagre-looking
apartment.

\x93Yes, this is Monsieur\x92s chamber,\x94 said the waiter, with a very peculiar
look, half servile, half droll.  \x93Madame se couche, No. 28.\x94

\x93Very well, good night,\x94 said I, closing the door hastily, and not liking
the farther scrutiny of the fellow\x92s eye, as he fastened it on me, as if
to search what precise degree of relationship existed between myself and
my fair friend, whom he had called \x93Madame\x94 purposely to elicit an
observation from me.  \x93Ten to one though,\x94 said I, as I undressed myself,
\x93but they think she is my wife--how good--but again--ay, it is very
possible, considering we are in France.  Numero vingt-huit, quite far
enough from this part of the house I should suppose from my number,--that
old gen-d\x92arme was a fine fellow--what strong attachment to Napoleon; and
the story of the pope; I hope I may remember that.  Isabella, poor girl
--this adventure must really distress her--hope she is not crying over it
--what a devil of a hard bed--and it is not five feet long too--and,
bless my soul, is this all by way of covering; why I shall be perished
here. Oh! I must certainly put all my clothes over me in addition,
unfortunately there is no hearth-rug--well, there is no help for it now
--so let me try to sleep--numero vingt-huit.\x94

How long I remained in a kind of uneasy, fitful slumber, I cannot tell;
but I awoke shivering with cold--puzzled to tell where I was, and my
brain addled with the broken fragments of half a dozen dreams, all
mingling and mixing themselves with the unpleasant realities of my
situation.  What an infernal contrivance for a bed, thought I, as my head
came thump against the top, while my legs projected far beyond the
foot-rail; the miserable portion of clothing over me at the same time
being only sufficient to temper the night air, which in autumn is
occasionally severe and cutting.  This will never do.  I must ring the
bell and rouse the house, if only to get a fire, if they don\x92t possess
such a thing as blankets.  I immediately rose, and groping my way along
the wall endeavoured to discover the bell, but in vain; and for the same
satisfactory reason that Von Troil did not devote one chapter of his
work on \x93Iceland\x94 to \x93snakes,\x94 because there were none such there.  What
was now to be done?  About the geography of my present abode I knew,
perhaps, as much as the public at large know about the Coppermine river
and Behring\x92s straits.  The world, it was true, was before me, \x93where
top choose,\x94 admirable things for an epic, but decidedly an unfortunate
circumstance for a very cold gentleman in search of a blanket.  Thus
thinking, I opened the door of my chamber, and not in any way resolved
how I should proceed, I stepped forth into the long corridor, which was
dark as midnight itself.

Tracing my path along the wall, I soon reached a door which I in vain
attempted to open; in another moment I found another and another, each of
which were locked.  Thus along the entire corridor I felt my way, making
every effort to discover where any of the people of the house might have
concealed themselves, but without success.  What was to be done now?  It
was of no use to go back to my late abode, and find it comfortless as I
left it; so I resolved to proceed in my search; by this time I had
arrived at the top of a small flight of stairs, which I remembered having
come up, and which led to another long passage similar to the one I had
explored, but running in a transverse direction, down this I now crept,
and reached the landing, along the wall of which I was guided by my hand,
as well for safety as to discover the architrave of some friendly door,
where the inhabitant might be sufficiently Samaritan to lend some portion
of his bed-clothes; door after door followed in succession along this
confounded passage, which I began to think as long as the gallery of the
lower one; at last, however, just as my heart was sinking within me from
disappointment, the handle of a lock turned, and I found myself inside a
chamber.  How was I now to proceed? for if this apartment did not contain
any of the people of the hotel, I had but a sorry excuse for disturbing
the repose of any traveller who might have been more fortunate than
myself in the article of blankets.  To go back however, would be absurd,
having already taken so much trouble to find out a room that was
inhabited--for that such was the case, a short, thick snore assured me
--so that my resolve was at once made, to waken the sleeper, and
endeavour to interest him in my destitute situation.  I accordingly
approached the place where the nasal sounds seemed to issue from, and
soon reached the post of a bed.  I waited for an instant, and then
began,

\x93Monsier, voulez vous bien me permettre--\x94

\x93As to short whist, I never could make it out, so there is an end of it,\x94
 said my unknown friend, in a low, husky voice, which, strangely enough,
was not totally unfamiliar to me: but when or how I had heard it before I
could not then think.

Well, thought I, he is an Englishman at all events, so I hope his
patriotism may forgive my intrusion, so here goes once more to rouse him,
though he seems a confoundedly heavy sleeper.  \x93I beg your pardon, sir,
but unfortunately in a point like the present, perhaps--\x94

\x93Well, do you mark the points, and I\x92ll score the rubber,\x94 said he.

\x93The devil take the gambling fellow\x92s dreaming,\x94 thought I, raising my
voice at the same time.

\x93Perhaps a cold night, sir, may suffice as my apology.\x94

\x93Cold, oh, ay! put a hot poker to it,\x94 muttered he; \x93a hot poker, a
little sugar, and a spice of nutmeg--nothing else--then it\x92s delicious.\x94

\x93Upon my soul, this is too bad,\x94 said I to myself.  \x93Let us see what
shaking will do.  Sir, sir, I shall feel obliged by--\x94

\x93Well there, don\x92t shake me, and I\x92ll tell you where I hid the cigars
--they are under my straw hat in the window.\x94

\x93Well, really,\x94 thought I, \x93if this gentleman\x92s confessions were of an
interesting nature, this might be good fun; but as the night is cold, I
must shorten the \x91seance,\x92 so here goes for one effort more.

\x93If, sir, you could kindly spare me even a small portion of your
bed-clothes.\x94

\x93No, thank you, no more wine; but I\x92ll sing with pleasure;\x94 and here the
wretch, in something like the voice of a frog with the quinsy, began,
\x93\x91I\x92d mourn the hopes that leave me.\x92\x94

\x93You shall mourn something else for the same reason,\x94 said I, as losing
all patience, I seized quilts and blankets by the corner, and with one
vigourous pull wrenched them from the bed, and darted from the room--in a
second I was in the corridor, trailing my spoil behind--which in my haste
I had not time to collect in a bundle.  I flew rather than ran along the
passage, reached the stairs, and in another minute had reached the second
gallery, but not before I heard the slam of a door behind me, and the
same instant the footsteps of a person running along the corridor, who
could be no other than my pursuer, effectually aroused by my last appeal
to his charity.  I darted along the dark and narrow passage; but soon to
my horror discovered that I must have passed the door of my chamber, for
I had reached the foot of a narrow back stair, which led to the grenier
and the servants\x92 rooms, beneath the roof.  To turn now would only have
led me plump in the face of my injured countryman, of whose thew and
sinew I was perfectly ignorant, and did not much like to venture upon.
There was little time for reflection, for he had now reached the top of
the stair, and was evidently listening for some clue to guide him on;
stealthily and silently, and scarcely drawing breath, I mounted the
narrow stairs step by step, but before I had arrived at the landing, he
heard the rustle of the bed-clothes, and again gave chace.  There was
something in the unrelenting ardour of his pursuit, which suggested to my
mind the idea of a most uncompromising foe; and as fear added speed to my
steps, I dashed along beneath the low-roofed passage, wondering what
chance of escape might yet present itself.  Just at this instant, the
hand by which I had guided myself along the wall, touched the handle of a
door--I turned it--it opened--I drew in my precious bundle, and closing
the door noiselessly, sat down, breathless and still, upon the floor.

Scarcely was this, the work of a second, accomplished, when the heavy
tread of my pursuer resounded on the floor.

\x93Upon my conscience it\x92s strange if I haven\x92t you now, my friend,\x94 said
he: \x93you\x92re in a cul de sac here, as they say, if I know any thing of the
house; and faith I\x92ll make a salad of you, when I get you, that\x92s all.
Devil a dirtier trick ever I heard tell of.\x94

Need I say that these words had the true smack of an Irish accent, which
circumstance, from whatever cause, did not by any means tend to assuage
my fears in the event of discovery.

However, from such a misfortune my good genius now delivered me; for
after traversing the passage to the end, he at last discovered another,
which led by a long flight to the second story, down which he proceeded,
venting at every step his determination for vengeance, and his resolution
not to desist from the pursuit, if it took the entire night for it.

\x93Well now,\x94 thought I, \x93as he will scarcely venture up here again, and as
I may, by leaving this, be only incurring the risk of encountering him,
my best plan is to stay where I am if it be possible.\x94  With this intent I
proceeded to explore the apartment, which from its perfect stillness, I
concluded to be unoccupied.  After some few minutes groping I reached a
low bed, fortunately empty, and although the touch of the bed-clothes led
to no very favourable augury of its neatness or elegance, there was
little choice at this moment, so I rolled myself up in my recent booty,
and resolved to wait patiently for day-break to regain my apartment.

As always happens in such circumstances, sleep came on me unawares
--so at least every one\x92s experience I am sure can testify, that if you
are forced to awake early to start by some morning coach, and that
unfortunately you have not got to bed till late at night, the chances
are ten to one, that you get no sleep whatever, simply because you are
desirous for it; but make up your mind ever so resolutely, that you\x92ll
not sleep, and whether your determination be built on motives of
propriety, duty, convenience, or health, and the chances are just as
strong that you are sound and snoring before ten minutes.

How many a man has found it impossible, with every effort of his heart
and brain aiding his good wishes, to sit with unclosed eyes and ears
through a dull sermon in the dog-days; how many an expectant, longing
heir has yielded to the drowsy influence when endeavouring to look
contrite under the severe correction of a lecture on extravagance from
his uncle.  Who has not felt the irresistible tendency to \x93drop off\x94 in
the half hour before dinner at a stupid country-house?  I need not
catalogue the thousand other situations in life infinitely more
\x93sleep-compelling\x94 than Morphine; for myself, my pleasantest and soundest
moments of perfect forgetfulness of this dreary world and all its cares,
have been taken in an oaken bench, seated bolt upright and vis a vis to a
lecturer on botany, whose calming accents, united with the softened light
of an autumnal day, piercing its difficult rays through the narrow and
cobwebbed windows, the odour of the recent plants and flowers aiding and
abetting, all combined to steep the soul in sleep, and you sank by
imperceptible and gradual steps into that state of easy slumber, in which
\x93come no dreams,\x94 and the last sounds of the lecturer\x92s \x93hypogenous and
perigenous\x94 died away, becoming beautifully less, till your senses sank
into rest, the syllables \x93rigging us, rigging us,\x94 seemed to melt away in
the distance and fade from your memory--Peace be with you, Doctor A.  If
I owe gratitude any where I have my debt with you.  The very memory I
bear of you has saved me no inconsiderable sum in hop and henbane.
Without any assistance from the sciences on the present occasion, I was
soon asleep, and woke not till the cracking of whips, and trampling of
horses\x92 feet on the pavement of the coach-yard apprised me that the world
had risen to its daily labour, and so should I.  From the short survey of
my present chamber which I took on waking, I conjectured it must have
been the den of some of the servants of the house upon occasion--two low
truckle-beds of the meanest description lay along the wall opposite to
mine; one of them appeared to have been slept in during the past night,
but by what species of animal the Fates alone can tell.  An old demi-peak
saddle, capped and tipped with brass, some rusty bits, and stray
stirrup-irons lay here and there upon the floor; while upon a species of
clothes-rack, attached to a rafter, hung a tarnished suit of
postillion\x92s livery, cap, jacket, leathers, and jack-boots, all ready
for use; and evidently from their arrangement supposed by the owner to
be a rather creditable \x93turn out.\x94

I turned over these singular habiliments with much of the curiosity with
which an antiquary would survey a suit of chain armour; the long
epaulettes of yellow cotton cord, the heavy belt with its brass buckle,
the cumbrous boots, plaited and bound with iron like churns were in
rather a ludicrous contrast to the equipment of our light and jockey-like
boys in nankeen jackets and neat tops, that spin along over our level
\x93macadam.\x94

\x93But,\x94 thought I, \x93it is full time I should get back to No. 82, and make
my appearance below stairs;\x94 though in what part of the building my room
lay, and how I was to reach it without my clothes, I had not the
slightest idea.  A blanket is an excessively comfortable article of
wearing apparel when in bed, but as a walking costume is by no means
convenient or appropriate; while to making a sorti en sauvage, however
appropriate during the night, there were many serious objections if done
\x93en plein jour,\x94 and with the whole establishment awake and active; the
noise of mopping, scrubbing, and polishing, which is eternally going
forward in a foreign inn amply testified there was nothing which I could
adopt in my present naked and forlorn condition, save the bizarre and
ridiculous dress of the postillion, and I need not say the thought of so
doing presented nothing agreeable.  I looked from the narrow window out
upon the tiled roof, but without any prospect of being heard if I called
ever so loudly.

The infernal noise of floor-cleansing, assisted by a Norman peasant\x92s
\x93chanson du pays,\x94 the time being well marked by her heavy sabots, gave
even less chance to me within; so that after more than half an hour
passed in weighing difficulties, and canvassing plans, upon donning the
blue and yellow, and setting out for my own room without delay, hoping
sincerely, that with proper precaution, I should be able to reach it
unseen and unobserved.

As I laid but little stress upon the figure I should make in my new
habiliments, it did not cause me much mortification to find that the
clothes were considerably too small, the jacket scarcely coming beneath
my arms, and the sleeves being so short that my hands and wrists
projected beyond the cuffs like two enormous claws; the leathers were
also limited in their length, and when drawn up to a proper height,
permitted my knees to be seen beneath, like the short costume of a
Spanish Tauridor, but scarcely as graceful; not wishing to encumber
myself in the heavy and noisy masses of wood, iron, and leather, they
call \x93les bottes forts,\x94 I slipped my feet into my slippers, and stole
gently from the room.  How I must have looked at the moment I leave my
reader to guess, as with anxious and stealthy pace I crept along the low
gallery that led to the narrow staircase, down which I proceeded, step by
step; but just as I reached the bottom, perceived a little distance from
me, with her back turned towards me, a short, squat peasant on her knees,
belabouring with a brush the well waxed floor; to pass therefore,
unobserved was impossible, so that I did not hesitate to address her, and
endeavour to interest her in my behalf, and enlist her as my guide.

\x93Bon jour, ma chere,\x94 said I in a soft insinuating tone; she did not hear
me, so I repeated,

\x93Bon jour, ma chere, bon jour.\x94

Upon this she turned round, and looking fixedly at me for a second,
called out in a thick pathos, \x93Ah, le bon Dieu! qu\x92il est drole comme ca,
Francois, savez vous, mais ce n\x92est pas Francois;\x94 saying which, she
sprang from her kneeling position to her feet, and with a speed that her
shape and sabots seemed little to promise, rushed down the stairs as if
she had seen the devil himself.

\x93Why, what is the matter with the woman?\x94 said I, \x93surely if I am not
Francois--which God be thanked is true--yet I cannot look so frightful as
all this would imply.\x94  I had not much time given me for consideration
now, for before I had well deciphered the number over a door before me,
the loud noise of several voices on the floor beneath attracted my
attention, and the moment after the heavy tramp of feet followed, and in
an instant the gallery was thronged by the men and women of the house
--waiters, hostlers, cooks, scullions, filles de chambre, mingled with
gens-d\x92armes, peasants, and town\x92s people, all eagerly forcing their way
up stairs; yet all on arriving at the landing-place, seemed disposed to
keep at a respectful distance, and bundling themselves at one end of the
corridor, while I, feelingly alive to the ridiculous appearance I made,
occupied the other--the gravity with which they seemed at first disposed
to regard me soon gave way, and peal after peal of laughter broke out,
and young and old, men and women, even to the most farouche gens-d\x92armes,
all appearing incapable of controlling the desire for merriment my most
singular figure inspired; and unfortunately this emotion seemed to
promise no very speedy conclusion; for the jokes and witticisms made upon
my appearance threatened to renew the festivities, ad libitum.

\x93Regardez donc ses epaules,\x94 said one.

\x93Ah, mon Dieu!  Il me fait l\x92idee d\x92une grenouille aves ses jambes
jaunes,\x94 cried another.

\x93Il vaut son pesant de fromage pour une Vaudeville,\x94 said the director of
the strolling theatre of the place.

\x93I\x92ll give seventy francs a week, \x91d\x92appointment,\x92 and \x91Scribe\x92 shall
write a piece express for himself, if he\x92ll take it.\x94

\x93May the devil fly away with your grinning baboon faces,\x94 said I, as I
rushed up the stairs again, pursued by the mob at full cry; scarcely,
however, had I reached the top step, when the rough hand of the
gen-d\x92arme seized me by the shoulder, while he said in a low, husky
voice, \x93c\x92est inutile, Monsieur, you cannot escape--the thing was well
contrived, it is true; but the gens-d\x92armes of France are not easily
outwitted, and you could not have long avoided detection, even in that
dress.\x94  It was my turn to laugh now, which, to their very great
amazement, I did, loud and long; that I should have thought my present
costume could ever have been the means of screening me from observation,
however it might have been calculated to attract it, was rather too
absurd a supposition even for the mayor of a village to entertain;
besides, it only now occurred to me that I was figuring in the character
of a prisoner.  The continued peals of laughing which this mistake on
their part elicited from me seemed to afford but slight pleasure to my
captor, who gruffly said--

\x93When you have done amusing yourself, mon ami, perhaps you will do us the
favour to come before the mayor.\x94

\x93Certainly,\x94 I replied; \x93but you will first permit me to resume my own
clothes, I am quite sick of masquerading \x91en postillion.\x92\x94

\x93Not so fast, my friend,\x94 said the suspicious old follower of Fouche
--\x93not so fast; it is but right the maire should see you in the disguise
you attempted your escape in.  It must be especially mentioned in the
proces verbal.\x94

\x93Well, this is becoming too ludicrous,\x94 said I.  \x93It need not take five
minutes to satisfy you why, how, and where, I put on these confounded
rags--\x94

\x93Then tell it to the maire, at the Bureau.\x94

\x93But for that purpose it is not necessary I should be conducted through
the streets in broad day, to be laughed at.  No, positively, I\x92ll not go.
In my own dress I\x92ll accompany you with pleasure.\x94

\x93Victor, Henri, Guillame,\x94 said the gen-d\x92arme, addressing his
companions, who immediately closed round me.  \x93You see,\x94 added he, \x93there
is no use in resisting.\x94

Need I recount my own shame and ineffable disgrace?  Alas! it is too,
too true.  Harry Lorrequer--whom Stultze entreated to wear his coats,
the ornament of Hyde Park, the last appeal in dress, fashion, and
equipage--was obliged to parade through the mob of a market-town in
France, with four gens-d\x92armes for his companions, and he himself habited
in a mongrel character--half postillion, half Delaware Indian.  The
incessant yells of laughter--the screams of the children, and the
outpouring of every species of sarcasm and ridicule, at my expense, were
not all--for, as I emerged from the porte-chochere I saw Isabella in the
window: her eyes were red with weeping; but no sooner had she beheld me,
than she broke out into a fit of laughter that was audible even in the
street.

Rage had now taken such a hold upon me, that I forgot my ridiculous
appearance in my thirst for vengeance.  I marched on through the grinning
crowd, with the step of a martyr.  I suppose my heroic bearing and
warlike deportment must have heightened the drollery of the scene; for
the devils only laughed the more.  The bureau of the maire could not
contain one-tenth of the anxious and curious individuals who thronged
the entrance, and for about twenty minutes the whole efforts of the
gens-d\x92armes were little enough to keep order and maintain silence.  At
length the maire made his appearance, and accustomed as he had been for
a long life to scenes of an absurd and extraordinary nature, yet the
ridicule of my look and costume was too much, and he laughed outright.
This was of course the signal for renewed mirth for the crowd, while
those without doors, infected by the example, took up the jest, and I
had the pleasure of a short calculation, a la Babbage, of how many
maxillary jaws were at that same moment wagging at my expense.

However, the examination commenced; and I at length obtained an
opportunity of explaining under what circumstances I had left my room,
and how and why I had been induced to don this confounded cause of all my
misery.

\x93This may be very true,\x94 said the mayor, \x93as it is very plausible; if you
have evidence to prove what you have stated--\x94

\x93If it\x92s evidence only is wanting, Mr. Maire, I\x92ll confirm one part of
the story,\x94 said a voice in the crowd, in an accent and tone that assured
me the speaker was the injured proprietor of the stolen blankets.  I
turned round hastily to look at my victim, and what was my surprise to
recognize a very old Dublin acquaintance, Mr. Fitzmaurice O\x92Leary.

\x93Good morning, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said he; \x93this is mighty like our ould
practices in College-green; but upon my conscience the maire has the
advantage of Gabbet.  It\x92s lucky for you I know his worship, as we\x92d call
him at home, or this might be a serious business.  Nothing would persuade
them that you were not Lucien Buonaparte, or the iron mask, or something
of that sort, if they took it into their heads.\x94

Mr. O\x92Leary was as good as his word.  In a species of French, that I\x92d
venture to say would be perfectly intelligible in Mullingar, he contrived
to explain to the maire that I was neither a runaway nor a swindler, but
a very old friend of his, and consequently sans reproche.  The official
was now as profuse of his civilities as he had before been of his
suspicions, and most hospitably pressed us to stay for breakfast.  This,
for many reasons, I was obliged to decline--not the least of which was,
my impatience to get out of my present costume. We accordingly procured a
carriage, and I returned to the hotel, screened from the gaze but still
accompanied by the shouts of the mob, who evidently took a most lively
interest in the entire proceeding.

I lost no time in changing my costume, and was about to descend
to the saloon, when the master of the house came to inform me that
Mrs. Bingham\x92s courier had arrived with the carriage, and that she
expected us at Amiens as soon as possible.

\x93That is all right.  Now, Mr. O\x92Leary, I must pray you to forgive
all the liberty I have taken with you, and also permit me to defer the
explanation of many circumstances which seem at present strange, till--\x94

\x93Till sine die, if the story be a long one, my dear sir--there\x92s nothing
I hate so much, except cold punch.\x94

\x93You are going to Paris,\x94 said I; \x93is it not so?\x94

\x93Yes, I\x92m thinking of it.  I was up at Trolhatten, in Norway, three weeks
ago, and I was obliged to leave it hastily, for I\x92ve an appointment with
a friend in Geneva.\x94

\x93Then how do you travel?\x94

\x93On foot, just as you see, except that I\x92ve a tobacco bag up stairs, and
an umbrella.\x94

\x93Light equipment, certainly; but you must allow me to give you a set down
as far as Amiens, and also to present you to my friends there.\x94

To this Mr. O\x92Leary made no objection; and as Miss Bingham could not bear
any delay, in her anxiety to join her mother, we set out at once--the
only thing to mar my full enjoyment at the moment being the sight of the
identical vestments I had so lately figured in, bobbing up and down
before my eyes for the whole length of the stage, and leading
to innumerable mischievous allusions from my friend Mr. O\x92Leary,
which were far too much relished by my fair companion.

At twelve we arrived at Amiens, when I presented my friend Mr. O\x92Leary to
Mrs. Bingham.



CHAPTER XXVI.

MR. O\x92LEARY.

At the conclusion of my last chapter I was about to introduce to my
reader\x92s acquaintance my friend Mr. O\x92Leary; and, as he is destined to
occupy some place in the history of these Confessions, I may, perhaps, be
permitted to do so at more length than his intrinsic merit at first sight
might appear to warrant.

Mr. O\x92Leary was, and I am induced to believe is, a particularly short,
fat, greasy-looking gentleman, with a head as free from phrenological
development as a billiard-ball, and a countenance which, in feature and
colour, nearly resembled the face of a cherub, carved in oak, as we see
them in old pulpits.

Short as is his stature, his limbs compose the least part of it.  His
hands and feet, forming some compensation by their ample proportions,
with short, thick fins, vulgarly called a cobbler\x92s thumb.  His voice
varying in cadence from a deep barytone, to a high falsetto, maintains
throughout the distinctive characteristic of a Dublin accent and
pronunciation, and he talks of the \x93Veel of Ovoca, and a beef-steek,\x94
 with some price of intonation.  What part of the Island he came
originally from, or what may be his age, are questions I have the most
profound ignorance of; I have heard many anecdotes which would imply his
being what the French call \x93d\x92un age mur\x94--but his own observations are
generally limited to events occurring since the peace of \x93fifteen.\x94  To
his personal attractions, such as they are, he has never been solicitous
of contributing by the meretricious aids of dress.  His coat, calculating
from its length of waist, and ample skirt, would fit Bumbo Green, while
his trowsers, being made of some cheap and shrinking material, have
gradually contracted their limits, and look now exactly like
knee-breeches, without the usual buttons at the bottom.

These, with the addition of a pair of green spectacles, the glass of one
being absent, and permitting the look-out of a sharp, grey eye, twinkling
with drollery and good humour, form the most palpable of his externals.
In point of character, they who best knew him represented him as the
best-tempered, best-hearted fellow breathing; ever ready to assist a
friend, and always postponing his own plans and his own views, when he
had any, to the wishes and intentions of others.  Among the many odd
things about him, was a constant preference to travelling on foot, and a
great passion for living abroad, both of which tastes he gratified,
although his size might seem to offer obstacles to the one, and his total
ignorance of every continental language, would appear to preclude the
other; with a great liking for tobacco, which he smoked all day--a
fondness for whist and malt liquors--his antipathies were few; so that
except when called upon to shave more than once in the week, or wash his
hands twice on the same day, it was difficult to disconcert him.  His
fortune was very ample; but although his mode of living was neither very
ostentatious nor costly, he contrived always to spend his income.  Such
was the gentleman I now presented to my friends, who, I must confess,
appeared strangely puzzled by his manner and appearance.  This feeling,
however, soon wore off; and before he had spent the morning in their
company, he had made more way in their good graces, and gone farther to
establish intimacy, than many a more accomplished person, with an
unexceptionable coat and accurate whisker might have effected in
a fortnight.  What were his gifts in this way, I am, alas, most
deplorably ignorant of; it was not, heaven knows, that he possessed any
conversational talent--of successful flattery he knew as much as a negro
does of the national debt--and yet the \x93bon-hommie\x94 of his character
seemed to tell at once; and I never knew him fail in any one instance to
establish an interest for himself before he had completed the ordinary
period of a visit.

I think it is Washington Irving who has so admirably depicted the
mortification of a dandy angler, who, with his beaver garnished with
brown hackles, his well-posed rod, polished gaff, and handsome
landing-net, with every thing befitting, spends his long summer day
whipping a trout stream without a rise or even a ripple to reward him,
while a ragged urchin, with a willow wand, and a bent pin, not ten yards
distant, is covering the greensward with myriads of speckled and scaly
backs, from one pound weight to four; so it is in every thing--\x93the race
is not to the swift;\x94 the elements of success in life, whatever be the
object of pursuit, are very, very different from what we think them at
first sight, and so it was with Mr. O\x92Leary, and I have more than once
witnessed the triumph of his homely manner and blunt humour over the
more polished and well-bred taste of his competitors for favour; and
what might have been the limit to such success, heaven alone can tell,
if it were not that he laboured under a counter-balancing infirmity,
sufficient to have swamped a line-of-battle ship itself.  It was simply
this--a most unfortunate propensity to talk of the wrong place, person,
or time, in any society he found himself; and this taste for the mal
apropos, extended so far, that no one ever ventured into company with
him as his friend, without trembling for the result; but even this, I
believe his only fault, resulted from the natural goodness of his
character and intentions; for, believing as he did, in his honest
simplicity, that the arbitrary distinctions of class and rank were held
as cheaply by others as himself, he felt small scruple at recounting to
a duchess a scene in a cabaret, and with as little hesitation would he,
if asked, have sung the \x93Cruiskeen lawn,\x94 or the \x93Jug of Punch,\x94 after
Lablanche had finished the \x93Al Idea,\x94 from Figaro.  \x91Mauvaise honte,\x92 he
had none; indeed I am not sure that he had any kind of shame whatever,
except possibly when detected with a coat that bore any appearance of
newness, or if overpersuaded to wear gloves, which he ever considered as
a special effeminacy.

Such, in a few words, was the gentleman I now presented to my friends,
and how far he insinuated himself into their good graces, let the fact
tell, that on my return to the breakfast-room, after about an hour\x92s
absence, I heard him detailing the particulars of a route they were to
take by his advice, and also learned that he had been offered and had
accepted a seat in their carriage to Paris.

\x93Then I\x92ll do myself the pleasure of joining your party, Mrs. Bingham,\x94
 said he.  \x93Bingham, I think, madam, is your name.\x94

\x93Yes, Sir.\x94

\x93Any relation, may I ask, of a most dear friend of mine, of the same
name, from Currynaslattery, in the county Wexford?\x94

\x93I am really not aware,\x94 said Mrs. Bingham.  \x93My husband\x92s family are, I
believe, many of them from that county.\x94

\x93Ah, what a pleasant fellow was Tom!\x94 said Mr. O\x92Leary musingly,
and with that peculiar tone which made me tremble, for I knew well
that a reminiscence was coming.  \x93A pleasant fellow indeed.\x94

\x93Is he alive, sir, now?\x94

\x93I believe so, ma\x92am; but I hear the climate does not agree with him.\x94

\x93Ah, then, he\x92s abroad!  In Italy probably?\x94

\x93No, ma\x92am, in Botany Bay.  His brother, they say, might have saved him,
but he left poor Tom to his fate, for he was just then paying court to a
Miss Crow, I think, with a large fortune.  Oh, Lord, what have I said,
it\x92s always the luck of me!\x94  The latter exclamation was the result of a
heavy saugh upon the floor, Mrs. Bingham having fallen in a faint--she
being the identical lady alluded to, and her husband the brother of
pleasant Tom Bingham.

To hurl Mr. O\x92Leary out of the room by one hand, and ring the bell with
the other, was the work of a moment; and with proper care, and in due
time, Mrs. Bingham was brought to herself, when most fortunately, she
entirely forgot the cause of her sudden indisposition; and, of course,
neither her daughter nor myself suffered any clue to escape us which
might lead to its discovery.

When we were once more upon the road, to efface if it might be necessary
any unpleasant recurrence to the late scene, I proceeded to give Mrs.
Bingham an account of my adventure at Chantraine, in which, of course, I
endeavoured to render my friend O\x92Leary all the honours of being laughed
at in preference to myself, laying little stress upon my masquerading in
the jack-boots.

\x93You are quite right,\x94 said O\x92Leary, joining in the hearty laugh against
him, \x93quite right, I was always a very heavy sleeper--indeed if I wasn\x92t
I wouldn\x92t be here now, travelling about en garcon, free as air;\x94 here he
heaved a sigh, which from its incongruity with his jovial look and happy
expression, threw us all into renewed laughter.

\x93But why, Mr. O\x92Leary--what can your sleepiness have to do with such
tender recollections, for such, I am sure, that sigh bespeaks them?\x94

\x93Ah! ma\x92am, it may seem strange, but it is nevertheless true, if it were
not for that unfortunate tendency, I should now be the happy possessor of
a most accomplished and amiable lady, and eight hundred per annum three
and a half per cent. stock.\x94

\x93You overslept yourself on the wedding-day, I suppose.\x94

\x93You shall hear, ma\x92am, the story is a very short one: It is now about
eight years ago, I was rambling through the south of France, and had just
reached Lyons, where the confounded pavement, that sticks up like pears,
with the point upwards, had compelled me to rest some days and recruit;
for this purpose I installed myself in the pension of Madame Gourgead,
Rue de Petits Carmes, a quiet house--where we dined at twelve, ten in
number, upon about two pounds of stewed beef, with garlic and carrots
--a light soup, being the water which accompanied the same to render it
tender in stewing--some preserved cherries, and an omelette, with a pint
bottle of Beaune, 6me qualite, I believe--a species of pyroligneous wine
made from the vine stalks, but pleasant in summer with your salad; then
we played dominos in the evening, or whist for sous points, leading
altogether a very quiet and virtuous existence, or as Madame herself
expressed it, \x91une vie tout-a-fait patriarchale;\x92 of this I cannot myself
affirm how far she was right in supposing the patriarchs did exactly like
us.  But to proceed, in the same establishment there lived a widow whose
late husband had been a wine merchant at Dijon--he had also, I suppose
from residing in that country, been imitating the patriarchs, for he died
one day.  Well, the lady was delayed at Lyons for some law business, and
thus it came about, that her husband\x92s testament and the sharp paving
stones in the streets determined we should be acquainted.  I cannot
express to you the delight of my fair countrywoman at finding that a
person who spoke English had arrived at the \x91pension\x92--a feeling I myself
somewhat participated in; for to say truth, I was not at that time a very
great proficient in French.  We soon became intimate, in less time
probably than it could otherwise have happened, for from the ignorance of
all the others of one word of English, I was enabled during dinner to say
many soft and tender things, which one does not usually venture on in
company.

\x93I recounted my travels, and told various adventures of my wanderings,
till at last, from being merely amused, I found that my fair friend began
to be interested in my narratives; and frequently when passing the
bouillon to her, I have seen a tear in the corner of her eye: in a word,
\x91she loved me for the dangers I had passed,\x92 as Othello says.  Well,
laugh away if you like, but it\x92s truth I am telling you.\x94  At this part
of Mr. O\x92Leary\x92s story we all found it impossible to withstand the
ludicrous mock heroic of his face and tone, and laughed loud and long.
When we at length became silent he resumed--\x93Before three weeks had
passed over, I had proposed and was accepted, just your own way, Mr.
Lorrequer, taking the ball at the hop, the very same way you did at
Cheltenham, the time the lady jilted you, and ran off with your friend
Mr. Waller; I read it all in the news, though I was then in Norway
fishing.\x94  Here there was another interruption by a laugh, not, however,
at Mr. O\x92Leary\x92s expense.  I gave him a most menacing look, while he
continued--\x93the settlements were soon drawn up, and consisted, like all
great diplomatic documents, of a series of \x91gains and compensations;\x92
thus, she was not to taste any thing stronger than kirsch wasser, or
Nantz brandy; and I limited myself to a pound of short-cut weekly, and so
on: but to proceed, the lady being a good Catholic, insisted upon being
married by a priest of her own persuasion, before the performance of the
ceremony at the British embassy in Paris; to this I could offer no
objection, and we were accordingly united in the holy bonds the same
morning, after signing the law papers.\x94

\x93Then, Mr. O\x92Leary, you are really a married man.\x94

\x93That\x92s the very point I\x92m coming to, ma\x92am; for I\x92ve consulted all the
jurists upon the subject, and they never can agree.  But you shall hear.
I despatched a polite note to Bishop Luscombe, and made every arrangement
for the approaching ceremony, took a quartier in the Rue Helder, near the
Estaminet, and looked forward with anxiety for the day which was to make
my happy; for our marriage in Lyons was only a kind of betrothal.  Now,
my fair friend had but one difficulty remaining, poor dear soul--I
refrain from mentioning her name for delicacy sake; but poor dear Mrs.
Ram could not bear the notion of our going up to Paris in the same
conveyance, for long as she had lived abroad, she had avoided every thing
French, even the language, so she proposed that I should go in the early
\x91Diligence,\x92 which starts at four-o\x92clock in the morning, while she took
her departure at nine; thus I should be some hours sooner in Paris, and
ready to receive her on her arriving; besides sparing her bashfulness all
reproach of our travelling together.  It was no use my telling her that
I always travelled on foot, and hated a \x91Diligence;\x92 she coolly replied
that at our time of life we could not spare the time necessary for a
pilgrimage to Jerusalem, for so she supposed the journey from Lyons to
Paris to be; so fearing lest any doubt might be thrown upon the ardour of
my attachment, I yielded at once, remembering at the moment what my poor
friend Tom Bing--Oh Lord, I\x92m at it again!\x94

\x93Sir, I did not hear.\x94

\x93Nothing, ma\x92am, I was just going to observe, that ladies of a certain
time of life, and widows especially, like a lover that seems a little
ardent or so, all the better.\x94  Here Mrs. Bingham blushed, her daughter
bridled, and I nearly suffocated with shame and suppressed laughter.

\x93After a most tender farewell of my bride or wife, I don\x92t know which,
I retired for the night with a mind vacillating between my hopes of
happiness and my fears for the result of a journey so foreign to all my
habits of travelling, and in which I could not but tremble at the many
casualties my habitual laziness and dislike to any hours but of my own
choosing might involve me in.

\x93I had scarcely lain down in bed, ere these thoughts took such possession
of me, that sleep for once in my life was out of the question; and then
the misery of getting up at four in the morning--putting on your clothes
by the flickering light of the porter\x92s candle--getting your boots on the
wrong feet, and all that kind of annoyance--I am sure I fretted myself
into the feeling of a downright martyr before an hour was over.  Well at
least, thought I, one thing is well done,--I have been quite right in
coming to sleep here at the Messagerie Hotel, where the diligence starts
from, or the chances are ten to one that I never should wake till the
time was past.  Now, however, they are sure to call me; so I may sleep
tranquilly till then.  Meanwhile I had forgotten to pack my trunk--my
papers, &c. laying all about the room in a state of considerable
confusion.  I rose at once with all the despatch I could muster; this
took a long time to effect, and it was nearly two o\x92clock ere I finished,
and sat down to smoke a solitary pipe,--the last, as I supposed it might
be my lot to enjoy for heaven knows how long, Mrs. R. having expressed,
rather late in our intimacy I confess, strong opinions against tobacco
within doors.

\x93When I had finished my little sac of the \x91weed,\x92 the clock struck three,
and I started to think how little time I was destined to have in bed.
In bed! why, said I, there is no use thinking of it now, for I shall
scarcely have lain down ere I shall be obliged to get up again.  So
thinking, I set about dressing myself for the road; and by the time I had
enveloped myself in a pair of long Hungarian gaiters, and a kurtcha of
sheep\x92s wool, with a brown bear-skin outside, with a Welsh wig, and a
pair of large dark glass goggles to defend the eyes from the snow, I was
not only perfectly impervious to all effects of the weather, but so
thoroughly defended from any influence of sight or sound, that a volcano
might be hissing and thundering within ten yards of me, without
attracting my slightest attention.  Now, I thought, instead of remaining
here, I\x92ll just step down to the coach, and get snugly in the diligence,
and having secured the corner of the coupe, resign myself to sleep with
the certainty of not being left behind, and, probably, too, be some miles
on my journey before awaking.

\x93I accordingly went down stairs, and to my surprise found, even at that
early hour, that many of the garcons of the house were stirring and
bustling about, getting all the luggage up in the huge wooden leviathan
that was to convey us on our road.  There they stood, like bees around a
hive, clustering and buzzing, and all so engaged that with difficulty
could I get an answer to my question of, What diligence it was?  \x91La
diligence pour Paris, Monsieur.\x92

\x93\x91Ah, all right then,\x92 said I; so watching an opportunity to do so
unobserved, for I supposed they might have laughed at me, I stepped
quietly into the coupe; and amid the creaking of cordage, and the
thumping of feet on the roof, fell as sound asleep as ever I did in my
life--these sounds coming to my muffled ears, soft as the echoes on the
Rhine.  When it was that I awoke I cannot say; but as I rubbed my eyes
and yawned after a most refreshing sleep, I perceived that it was still
quite dark all around, and that the diligence was standing before the
door of some inn and not moving.  Ah, thought I, this is the first stage;
how naturally one always wakes at the change of horses,--a kind of
instinct implanted by Providence, I suppose, to direct us to a little
refreshment on the road.  With these pious feelings I let down the glass,
and called out to the garcon for a glass of brandy and a cigar.  While he
was bringing them, I had time to look about, and perceived, to my very
great delight, that I had the whole coupe to myself. \x91Are there any
passengers coming in here?\x92 said I, as the waiter came forward with my
petit verre.  \x91I should think not, sir,\x92 said the fellow with a leer.
\x91Then I shall have the whole coupe to myself?\x92 said I.  \x91Monsieur need
have no fear of being disturbed; I can safely assure him that he will
have no one there for the next twenty-four hours.\x92  This was really
pleasant intelligence; so I chucked him a ten sous piece, and closing up
the window as the morning was cold, once more lay back to sleep with a
success that has never failed me.  It was to a bright blue cloudless sky,
and the sharp clear air of a fine day in winter, that I at length opened
my eyes. I pulled out my watch, and discovered it was exactly two
o\x92clock; I next lowered the glass and looked about me, and very much to
my surprise discovered that the diligence was not moving, but standing
very peaceably in a very crowded congregation of other similar and
dissimilar conveyances, all of which seemed, I thought, to labour under
some physical ailment, some wanting a box, others a body, &c., &c. and in
fact suggesting the idea of an infirmary for old and disabled carriages
of either sex, mails and others.  \x91Oh, I have it,\x92 cried I, \x91we are
arrived at Mt. Geran, and they are all at dinner, and from my being alone
in the coupe, they have forgotten to call me.\x92  I immediately opened the
door and stepped out into the innyard, crowded with conducteurs, grooms,
and ostlers, who, I thought, looked rather surprised at seeing me emerge
from the diligence.

\x93\x91You did not know I was there,\x92 said I, with a knowing wink at one of
them as I passed.

\x93\x91Assurement non,\x92 said the fellow with a laugh, that was the signal for
all the others to join in it.  \x91Is the table d\x92hote over?\x92 said I,
regardless of the mirth around me.  \x91Monsieur is just in time,\x92 said the
waiter, who happened to pass with a soup-tureen in his hand.  \x91Have the
goodness to step this way.\x92  I had barely time to remark the close
resemblance of the waiter to the fellow who presented me with my brandy
and cigar in the morning, when he ushered me into a large room with about
forty persons sitting at a long table, evidently waiting with impatience
for the \x91Potage\x92 to begin their dinner.  Whether it was they enjoyed the
joke of having neglected to call me, or that they were laughing at my
travelling costume, I cannot say, but the moment I came in, I could
perceive a general titter run through the assembly.  \x91Not too late, after
all, gentlemen,\x92 said I, marching gravely up the table.

\x93\x91Monsieur is in excellent time,\x92 said the host, making room for me
beside his chair.  Notwithstanding the incumbrance of my weighty
habiliments, I proceeded to do ample justice to the viands before me,
apologizing laughingly to the host, by pleading a traveller\x92s appetite.

\x93\x91Then you have perhaps come far this morning,\x92 said a gentleman
opposite.

\x93\x91Yes,\x92 said I, \x91I have been on the road since four o\x92clock.\x92

\x93\x91And how are the roads?\x92 said another.  \x91Very bad,\x92 said I, \x91the first
few stages from Lyons, afterwards much better.\x92  This was said at a
venture, as I began to be ashamed of being always asleep before my
fellow-travellers.  They did not seem, however, to understand me
perfectly; and one old fellow putting down his spectacles from his
forehead, leaned over and said: \x91And where, may I ask, has Monsieur come
from this morning?\x92

\x93\x91From Lyons,\x92 said I, with the proud air of a man who has done a stout
feat, and is not ashamed of the exploit.

\x93\x91From Lyons!\x92 said one.  \x91From Lyons!\x92 cried another.  \x91From Lyons!\x92
repeated a third.

\x93\x91Yes,\x92 said I; \x91what the devil is so strange in it; travelling is so
quick now-a-days, one thinks nothing of twenty leagues before dinner.\x92

\x93The infernal shout of laughing that followed my explanation is still in
my ears; from one end of the table to the other there was one continued
ha, ha, ha--from the greasy host to the little hunchbacked waiter, they
were all grinning away.

\x93\x91And how did Monsieur travel?\x92 said the old gentleman, who seemed to
carry on the prosecution against me.

\x93\x91By the diligence, the \x93Aigle noir,\x94\x92 said I, giving the name with some
pride, that I was not altogether ignorant of the conveyance.

\x93\x91The you should certainly not complain of the roads,\x92 said the host
chuckling; \x91for the only journey that diligence has made this day has
been from the street-door to the inn-yard; for as they found when the
luggage was nearly packed that the axle was almost broken through, they
wheeled it round to the court, and prepared another for the travellers.\x92

\x93\x91And where am I now?\x92 said I.

\x93\x91In Lyons,\x92 said twenty voices, half choked with laughter at my
question.

\x93I was thunderstruck at the news at first; but as I proceeded with my
dinner, I joined in the mirth of the party, which certainly was not
diminished on my telling them the object of my intended journey.

\x93\x91I think, young man,\x92 said the old fellow with the spectacles, \x91that you
should take the occurrence as a warning of Providence that marriage will
not suit you.\x92  I began to be of the same opinion;--but then there was
the jointure.  To be sure, I was to give up tobacco; and perhaps I should
not be as free to ramble about as when en garcon.  So taking all things
into consideration, I ordered in another bottle of burgundy, to drink
Mrs. Ram\x92s health--got my passport vised for Barege--and set out for the
Pyrenees the same evening.\x94

\x93And have you never heard any thing more of the lady?\x94 said Mrs. Bingham.

\x93Oh, yes.  She was faithful to the last; for I found out when at Rome
last winter that she had offered a reward for me in the newspapers, and
indeed had commenced a regular pursuit of me through the whole continent.
And to tell the real fact, I should not now fancy turning my steps
towards Paris, if I had not very tolerable information that she is in
full cry after me through the Wengen Alps, I having contrived a paragraph
in Galignani, to seduce her thither, and where, with the blessing of
Providence, if the snow set in early, she must pass the winter.\x94



CHAPTER XXVII.

PARIS.

Nothing more worthy of recording occurred before our arrival at Meurice
on the third day of our journey.  My friend O\x92Leary had, with his usual
good fortune, become indispensable to his new acquaintance, and it was
not altogether without some little lurking discontent that I perceived
how much less often my services were called in request since his having
joined our party; his information, notwithstanding its very scanty
extent, was continually relied upon, and his very imperfect French
everlastingly called into requisition to interpret a question for the
ladies.  Yes, thought I, \x93Othello\x92s occupation\x92s gone;\x94 one of two things
has certainly happened, either Mrs. Bingham and her daughter have noticed
my continued abstraction of mind, and have attributed it to the real
cause, the pre-occupation of my affections; or thinking, on the other
hand, that I am desperately in love with one or other of them, have
thought that a little show of preference to Mr. O\x92Leary may stimulate me
to a proposal at once.  In either case I resolved to lose no time in
taking my leave, which there could be no difficulty in doing now, as the
ladies had reached their intended destination, and had numerous friends
in Paris to advise and assist them; besides that I had too long neglected
the real object of my trip, and should lose no time in finding out the
Callonbys, and at once learn what prospect of success awaited me in that
quarter.  Leaving my fair friends then to refresh themselves after the
journey, and consigning Mr. O\x92Leary to the enjoyment of his meershaum,
through the aid of which he had rendered his apartment like a Dutch swamp
in autumn, the only portion of his own figure visible through the mist
being his short legs and heavy shoes.

On reaching the house in the Rue de la Paix, where the Callonbys had
resided, I learned that they were still at Baden, and were not expected
in Paris for some weeks; that Lord Kilkee had arrived that morning, and
was then dining at the Embassy, having left an invitation for me to dine
with him on the following day, if I happened to call.  As I turned from
the door, uncertain whither to turn my steps, I walked on unconsciously
towards the Boulevard, and occupied as I was, thinking over all the
chances before me, did not perceive where I stood till the bright glare
of a large gas lamp over my head apprised me that I was at the door of
the well known Salon des Etrangers, at the corner of the Rue Richelieu;
carriages, citadines, and vigilantes were crowding, crashing, and
clattering on all sides, as the host of fashion and the gaming-table were
hastening to their champ de bataille.  Not being a member of the Salon,
and having little disposition to enter, if I had been, I stood for some
minutes looking at the crowd as it continued to press on towards the
splendid and brilliantly lighted stairs, which leads from the very street
to the rooms of the palace, for such, in the magnificence and luxury of
its decorations, it really is.  As I was on the very eve of turning
away, a large and very handsome cab-horse turned the corner from the
balustrade, with the most perfect appointment of harness and carriage
I had seen for a long time.

While I continued to admire the taste and propriety of the equipage, a
young man in deep mourning sprung from the inside and stood upon the
pavement before me.  \x93A deux heures, Charles,\x94 said he to his servant,
as the cab turned slowly around.  The voice struck me as well known.  I
waited till he approached the lamp, to catch a glimpse of the face; and
what was my surprise to recognise my cousin, Guy Lorrequer of the 10th,
whom I had not met with for six years before.  My first impulse was not
to make myself known to him.  Our mutual position with regard to Lady
Jane was so much a mystery, as regarded myself, that I feared the result
of any meeting, until I was sufficiently aware of how matters stood, and
whether we were to meet as friends and relations, or rivals, and
consequently enemies.

Before I had time to take my resolution, Guy had recognised me, and
seizing me by the hand with both his, called, \x93Harry, my old friend, how
are you? how long have you been here, and never to call on me?  Why man,
what is the meaning of this?\x94  Before I had time to say that I was only a
few hours in Paris, he again interrupted me by saying: \x93And how comes it
that you are not in mourning?  You must surely have heard it.\x94

\x93Heard what?\x94 I cried, nearly hoarse from agitation.  \x93Our poor old
friend, Sir Guy, didn\x92t you know, is dead.\x94  Only those who have felt how
strong the ties of kindred are, as they decrease in number, can tell how
this news fell upon my heart.  All my poor uncle\x92s kindnesses came one by
one full upon my memory; his affectionate letters of advice; his
well-meant chidings, too, even dearer to me than his praise and approval,
completely unmanned me; and I stood speechless and powerless before my
cousin as he continued to detail to me the rapid progress of Sir Guy\x92s
malady, and attack of gout in the head, which carried him off in three
days.  Letters had been sent to me in different places, but none reached;
and at the very moment the clerk of my uncle\x92s lawyer was in pursuit of
me through the highlands, where some mistaken information had induced him
to follow me.

\x93You are, therefore,\x94 continued Guy, \x93unaware that our uncle has dealt so
fairly by you, and indeed by both of us; I have got the Somersetshire
estates, which go with the baronetcy; but the Cumberland property is all
yours; and I heartily wish you joy of having nearly eight thousand per
annum, and one of the sweetest villas that ever man fancied on
Derwentwater.  But come along here,\x94 continued he, and he led me through
the crowded corridor and up the wide stair.  \x93I have much to tell you,
and we can be perfectly alone here; no one will trouble themselves with
us.\x94  Unconscious of all around me, I followed Guy along the gilded and
glittering lobby, which led to the Salon, and it was only as the servant
in rich livery came forward to take my hat and cane that I remembered
where I was.  Then the full sense of all I had been listening to rushed
upon me, and the unfitness, and indeed the indecency of the place for
such communications as we were engaged in, came most forcibly before me.
Sir Guy, it is true, had always preferred my cousin to me; he it was who
was always destined to succeed both to his title and his estates, and his
wildness and extravagance had ever met with a milder rebuke and weaker
chastisement than my follies and my misfortunes.  Yet still he was my
last remaining relative; the only one I possessed in all the world to
whom in any difficulty or trial I had to look up; and I felt, in the very
midst of my newly acquired wealth and riches, poorer and more alone than
ever I had done in my lifetime.  I followed Guy to a small and dimly
lighted cabinet off the great salon, where, having seated ourselves, he
proceeded to detail to me the various events which a few short weeks had
accomplished.  Of himself he spoke but little, and never once alluded to
the Callonbys at all; indeed all I could learn was that he had left the
army, and purposed remaining for the winter at Paris, where he appeared
to have entered into all its gaiety and dissipation at once.

\x93Of course,\x94 said he, \x93you will give up \x91sodgering\x92 now; at the best it
is but poor sport after five and twenty, and is perfectly unendurable
when a man has the means of pushing himself in the gay world; and now,
Harry, let us mix a little among the mob here; for Messieurs les
Banquiers don\x92t hold people in estimation who come here only for the
\x91chapons au riz.\x92 and the champagne glacee, as we should seem to do were
we to stay here much longer.\x94

Such was the whirl of my thoughts, and so great the confusion in my ideas
from all I had just heard, that I felt myself implicitly following every
direction of my cousin with a child-like obedience, of the full extent
of which I became only conscious when I found myself seated at the table
of the Salon, between my cousin Guy and an old, hard-visaged,
pale-countenanced man, who he told me in a whisper was Vilelle the
Minister.

What a study for the man who would watch the passions and emotions of his
fellow-men, would the table of a rouge et noir gambling-house present
--the skill and dexterity which games of other kinds require, being here
wanting, leave the player free to the full abandonment of the passion.
The interest is not a gradually increasing or vacillating one, as fortune
and knowledge of the game favour; the result is uninfluenced by any thing
of his doing; with the last turned card of the croupier is he rich or
ruined; and thus in the very abstraction of the anxiety is this the most
painfully exciting of all gambling whatever; the very rattle of the
dice-box to the hazard player is a relief; and the thought that he is in
some way instrumental in his good or bad fortune gives a turn to his
thoughts. There is something so like the inevitable character of fate
associated with the result of a chance, which you can in no way affect
or avert, that I have, notwithstanding a strong bias for play, ever
dreaded and avoided the rouge et noir table; hitherto prudential motives
had their share in the resolve; a small loss at play becomes a matter of
importance to a sub in a marching regiment; and therefore I was firm in
my determination to avoid the gambling-table.  Now my fortunes were
altered; and as I looked at the heap of shining louis d\x92or, which Guy
pushed before me in exchange for a billet de banque of large amount, I
felt the full importance of my altered position, mingling with the old
and long practised prejudices which years had been accumulating to fix.
There is besides some wonderful fascination to most men in the very
aspect of high play: to pit your fortune against that of another--to see
whether or not your luck shall not exceed some others--are feelings that
have a place in most bosoms, and are certainly, if not naturally
existing, most easily generated in the bustle and excitement of the
gambling-house.  The splendour of the decorations; the rich profusion of
gilded ornaments; the large and gorgeously framed mirrors; the sparkling
lustres; mingling their effect with the perfumed air of the apartment,
filled with orange trees and other aromatic shrubs; the dress of the
company, among whom were many ladies in costumes not inferior to those
of a court; the glitter of diamonds; the sparkle of stars and
decorations, rendered more magical by knowing that the wearers were
names in history.  There, with his round but ample shoulder, and large
massive head, covered with long snow-white hair, stands Talleyrand, the
maker and unmaker of kings, watching with a look of ill-concealed
anxiety the progress of his game. Here is Soult, with his dogged look
and beetled brow; there stands Balzac the author, his gains here are
less derived from the betting than the bettors; he is evidently making
his own of some of them, while in the seeming bon hommie of his careless
manners and easy abandon, they scruple not to trust him with anecdotes
and traits, that from the crucible of his fiery imagination come forth,
like the purified gold from the furnace. And there, look at that old and
weather-beaten man, with grey eyebrows, and moustaches, who throws from
the breast-pocket of his frock ever and anon, a handful of gold pieces
upon the table; he evidently neither knows nor cares for the amount, for
the banker himself is obliged to count over the stake for him--that is
Blucher, the never-wanting attendant at the Salon; he has been an
immense loser, but plays on with the same stern perseverance with which
he would pour his bold cavalry through a ravine torn by artillery; he
stands by the still waning chance with a courage that never falters.

One strong feature of the levelling character of a taste for play has
never ceased to impress me most forcibly--not only do the individual
peculiarities of the man give way before the all-absorbing passion--but
stranger still, the very boldest traits of nationality even fade and
disappear before it; and man seems, under the high-pressure power of this
greatest of all stimulants, resolved into a most abstract state.

Among all the traits which distinguish Frenchmen from natives of every
country, none is more prominent than a kind of never-failing elasticity
of temperament, which seems almost to defy all the power of misfortune to
depress.  Let what will happen, the Frenchman seems to possess some
strong resource within himself, in his ardent temperament, upon which he
can draw at will; and whether on the day after a defeat, the moment of
being deceived in his strongest hopes of returned affection--the
overthrow of some long-cherished wish--it matters not--he never gives way
entirely; but see him at the gaming-table--watch the intense, the aching
anxiety with which his eye follows every card as it falls from the hand
of the croupier--behold the look of cold despair that tracks his stake as
the banker rakes it in among his gains--and you will at once perceive
that here, at least, his wonted powers fail him.  No jest escapes the
lips of one, that would badinet upon the steps of the guillotine.  The
mocker who would jeer at the torments of revolution, stands like a coward
quailing before the impassive eye and pale cheek of a croupier.  While
I continued to occupy myself by observing the different groups about me,
I had been almost mechanically following the game, placing at each deal
some gold upon the table; the result however had interested me so
slightly, that it was only by remarking the attention my game had excited
in others, that my own was drawn towards it.  I then perceived that I had
permitted my winnings to accumulate upon the board, and that in the very
deal then commencing, I had a stake of nearly five hundred pounds upon
the deal.

\x93Faites votre jeu, le jeu est fait,\x94 said the croupier, \x93trente deux.\x94

\x93You have lost, by Jove,\x94 said Guy, in a low whisper, in which I could
detect some trait of agitation.

\x93Trente et une,\x94 added the croupier.  \x93Rouge perd, et couleur.\x94

There was a regular buz of wonder through the room at my extraordinary
luck, for thus, with every chance against me, I had won again.

As the croupier placed the billets de banque upon the table, I overheard
the muttered commendations of an old veteran behind me, upon the coolness
and judgment of my play; so much for fortune, thought I, my judgment
consists in a perfect ignorance of the chances, and my coolness is merely
a thorough indifference to success; whether it was now that the flattery
had its effect upon me, or that the passion for play, so long dormant,
had suddenly seized hold upon me, I know not, but my attention became
from that moment rivetted upon the game, and I played every deal.  Guy,
who had been from the first betting with the indifferent success which I
have so often observed to attend upon the calculations of old and
experienced gamblers, now gave up, and employed himself merely in
watching my game.

\x93Harry,\x94 said he at last, \x93I am completely puzzled as to whether you are
merely throwing down your louis at hazard, or are not the deepest player
I have ever met with.\x94

\x93You shall see,\x94 said I, as I stooped over towards the banker, and
whispered, \x93how far is the betting permitted?\x94

\x93Fifteen thousand francs,\x94 said the croupier, with a look of surprise.

\x93Then be it,\x94 said I; \x93quinze mille francs, rouge.\x94

In a moment the rouge won, and the second deal I repeated the bet, and so
continuing on with the like success; when I was preparing my rouleau for
the fifth, the banquier rose, and saying--

\x93Messiers, la banque est fermee pour ce soir,\x94 proceeded to lock his
casette, and close the table.

\x93You are satisfied now,\x94 said Guy, rising, \x93you see you have broke the
banque, and a very pretty incident to commence with your first
introduction to a campaign in Paris.\x94

Having changed my gold for notes, I stuffed them, with an air of
well-affected carelessness, into my pocket, and strolled through the
Salon, where I had now become an object of considerably more interest
than all the marshals and ministers about me.

\x93Now, Hal,\x94 said Guy, \x93I\x92ll just order our supper in the cabinet, and
join you in a moment.\x94

As I remained for some minutes awaiting Guy\x92s return, my attention was
drawn towards a crowd, in a smaller salon, among whom the usual silent
decorum of the play-table seemed held in but small respect, for every
instant some burst of hearty laughter, or some open expression of joy or
anger burst forth, by which I immediately perceived that they were the
votaries of the roulette table, a game at which the strict propriety and
etiquette ever maintained at rouge et noir, are never exacted.  As I
pressed nearer, to discover the cause of the mirth, which every moment
seemed to augment, guess my surprise to perceive among the foremost rank
of the players, my acquaintance, Mr. O\x92Leary, whom I at that moment
believed to be solacing himself with his meershaum at Meurice.  My
astonishment at how he obtained admission to the Salon was even less than
my fear of his recognising me.  At no time is it agreeable to find that
the man who is regarded as the buffo of a party turns out to be your
friend, but still less is this so, when the individual claiming
acquaintance with you presents any striking absurdity in his dress or
manner, strongly at contrast with the persons and things about him; and
thus it now happened--Mr. O\x92Leary\x92s external man, as we met him on the
Calais road, with its various accompaniments of blouse-cap, spectacles,
and tobacco-pipe, were nothing very outre or remarkable, but when the
same figure presented itself among the elegans of the Parisian world,
redolent of eau de Portugal, and superb in the glories of brocade
waistcoats and velvet coats, the thing was too absurd, and I longed to
steal away before any chance should present itself of a recognition.
This, however, was impossible, as the crowd from the other table were all
gathered round us, and I was obliged to stand fast, and trust that the
excitement of the game, in which he appeared to be thoroughly occupied,
might keep his eye fixed on another quarter; I now observed that the same
scene in which I had so lately been occupied at the rouge et noir table,
was enacting here, under rather different circumstances.  Mr. O\x92Leary was
the only player, as I had just been--not, however, because his success
absorbed all the interest of the bystanders, but that, unfortunately, his
constant want of it elicited some strong expression of discontent and
mistrust from him, which excited the loud laughter of the others; but of
which, from his great anxiety in his game, he seemed totally unconscious.

\x93Faites votre jeu, Messieurs,\x94 said the croupier.

\x93Wait a bit till I change this,\x94 said Mr. O\x92Leary, producing an English
sovereign; the action interpreted his wishes, and the money was converted
into coupons de jeu.

I now discovered one great cause of the mirth of the bystanders, at least
the English portion of them.  Mr. O\x92Leary, when placing his money upon
the table, observed the singular practice of announcing aloud the amount
of his bet, which, for his own information, he not only reduced to
English but also Irish currency; thus the stillness of the room was every
instant broken by a strong Irish accent pronouncing something of this
sort--\x93five francs,\x94 \x93four and a penny\x94--\x93ten francs,\x94 \x93eight and three
ha\x92pence.\x94  The amusement thus caused was increased by the excitement his
losses threw him into.  He now ceased to play for several times, when at
last, he made an offering of his usual stake.

\x93Perd,\x94 said the croupier, raking in the piece with a contemptuous air
at the smallness of the bet, and in no way pleased that the interest
Mr. O\x92Leary excited should prevent the other players from betting.

\x93Perd,\x94 said O\x92Leary, \x93again.  Divil another song you sing than \x91perd,\x92
and I\x92m not quite clear you\x92re not cheating all the while--only, God help
you if you are!\x94

As he so said, the head of a huge black-thorn stick was half protruded
across the table, causing renewed mirth; for, among other regulations,
every cane, however trifling, is always demanded at the door; and thus a
new subject of astonishment arose as to how he had succeeded in carrying
it with him into the salon.

\x93Here\x92s at you again,\x94 said O\x92Leary, regardless of the laughter, and
covering three or four numbers with his jetons.

Round went the ball once more, and once more he lost.

\x93Look now, divil a lie in it, he makes them go wherever he pleases.  I\x92ll
take a turn now at the tables; fair play\x92s a jewel--and we\x92ll see how
you\x92ll get on.\x94

So saying, he proceeded to insinuate himself into the chair of the
croupier, whom he proposed to supersede by no very gentle means.  This
was of course resisted, and as the loud mirth of the bystanders grew more
and more boisterous, the cries of \x93a la porte, a la porte,\x94 from the
friends of the bank, rung through the crowd.

\x93Go it, Pat--go it, Pat,\x94 said Guy, over my shoulder, who seemed to take
a prodigious interest in the proceedings.

At this unexpected recognition of his nativity, for Mr. O\x92Leary never
suspected he could be discovered by his accent; he looked across the
table, and caught my eye at once.

\x93Oh, I\x92m safe now! stand by me, Mr. Lorrequer, and we\x92ll clear the room.\x94

So saying, and without any further provocation, he upset the croupier,
chair and all, with one sudden jerk upon the floor, and giving a
tremendous kick to the casette, sent all the five-franc pieces flying
over him; he then jumped upon the table, and brandishing his black-thorn
through the ormolu lustre, scattered the wax-lights on all sides,
accompanying the exploit by a yell that would have called up all
Connemara at midnight, if it had only been heard there; in an instant,
the gens d\x92armes, always sufficiently near to be called in if required,
came pouring into the room, and supposing the whole affair had been a
preconcerted thing to obtain possession of the money in the bank,
commenced capturing different members of the company who appeared, by
enjoying the confusion, to be favouring and assisting it.  My cousin Guy
was one of the first so treated--a proceeding to which he responded by an
appeal rather in favour with most Englishmen, and at once knocked down
the gen d\x92arme; this was the signal for a general engagement, and
accordingly, before an explanation could possibly be attempted, a most
terrific combat ensued.  The Frenchmen in the room siding with the gen
d\x92armerie, and making common cause against the English; who, although
greatly inferior in number, possessed considerable advantage, from long
habit in street-rows and boxing encounters.  As for myself, I had the
good fortune to be pitted against a very pursy and unwieldy Frenchman,
who sacre\x92d to admiration, but never put in a single blow at me; while,
therefore, I amused myself practising what old Cribb called \x93the one,
two,\x94 upon his fat carcase, I had abundant time and opportunity to watch
all that was doing about me, and truly a more ludicrous affair I never
beheld.  Imagine about fifteen or sixteen young Englishmen, most of them
powerful, athletic fellows, driving an indiscriminate mob of about five
times their number before them, who, with courage enough to resist, were
yet so totally ignorant of the boxing art, that they retreated,
pell-mell, before the battering phalanx of their sturdy opponents--the
most ludicrous figure of all being Mr. O\x92Leary himself, who, standing
upon the table, laid about him with a brass lustre that he had unstrung,
and did considerable mischief with this novel instrument of warfare,
crying out the entire time, \x93murder every mother\x92s son of them,\x94 \x93give
them another taste of Waterloo.\x94  Just as he had uttered the last
patriotic sentiment, he received a slight admonition from behind, by the
point of a gen d\x92arme\x92s sword, which made him leap from the table with
the alacrity of a harlequin, and come plump down among the thickest of
the fray.  My attention was now directed elsewhere, for above all the
din and \x93tapage\x94 of the encounter I could plainly hear the row-dow-dow
of the drums, and the measured tread of troops approaching, and at once
guessed that a reinforcement of the gen d\x92armerie were coming up.
Behind me there was a large window, with a heavy scarlet curtain before
it; my resolution was at once taken, I floored my antagonist, whom I had
till now treated with the most merciful forbearance, and immediately
sprung behind the curtain. A second\x92s consideration showed that in the
search that must ensue this would afford no refuge, so I at once opened
the sash, and endeavoured to ascertain at what height I was above the
ground beneath me; the night was so dark that I could see nothing, but
judging from the leaves and twigs that reached to the window, that it
was a garden beneath, and auguring from the perfumed smell of the
shrubs, that they could not be tall trees, I resolved to leap, a resolve
I had little time to come to, for the step of the soldiers was already
heard upon the stair.  Fixing my hat then down upon my brows, and
buttoning my coat tightly, I let myself down from the window-stool by my
hands, and fell upon my legs in the soft earth of the garden, safe and
unhurt.  From the increased clamour and din overhead, I could learn the
affray was at its height, and had little difficulty in detecting the
sonorous accent and wild threats of my friend Mr. O\x92Leary, high above
all the other sounds around him.  I did not wait long, however, to enjoy
them; but at once set about securing my escape from my present bondage.
In this I had little difficulty, for I was directed by a light to a
small door, which, as I approached, found that it led into the den of
the Concierge, and also communicated by another door with the street.  I
opened it, therefore, at once, and was in the act of opening the second,
when I felt myself seized by the collar by a strong hand; and on turning
round saw the sturdy figure of the Concierge himself, with a drawn
bayonet within a few inches of my throat, \x93Tenez, mon ami,\x94 said I
quietly, and placing half a dozen louis, some of my recent spoils, in
his hand, at once satisfied him that, even if I were a robber, I was at
least one that understood and respected the conveniences of society.  He
at once relinquished his hold and dropped his weapon, and pulling off
his cap with one hand, to draw the cord which opened the Porte Cochere
with the other, bowed me politely to the street.  I had scarcely had
time to insinuate myself into the dense mass of people whom the noise
and confusion within had assembled around the house, when the double
door of the building opened, and a file of gens d\x92armerie came forth,
leading between them my friend Mr. O\x92Leary and some others of the
rioters--among whom I rejoiced to find my cousin did not figure.  If I
were to judge from his disordered habiliments and scarred visage, Mr.
O\x92Leary\x92s resistance to the constituted authorities must have been a
vigorous one, and the drollery of his appearance was certainly not
decreased by his having lost the entire brim of his hat--the covering of
his head bearing, under these distressing circumstances, a strong
resemblance to a saucepan.

As I could not at that moment contribute in any way to his rescue, I
determined on the following day to be present at his examination, and
render him all the assistance in my power.  Meanwhile, I returned to
Meurice, thinking of every adventure of the evening much more than of my
own changed condition and altered fortunes.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

PARIS.

The first thing which met my eye, when waking in the morning, after the
affair at the salon, was the rouleau of billets de banque which I had won
at play; and it took several minutes before I could persuade myself that
the entire recollection of the evening had any more solid foundation than
a heated brain and fevered imagination.  The sudden spring, from being a
subaltern in the __th, with a few hundreds per annum--\x93pour tout potage,\x94
 to becoming the veritable proprietor of several thousands, with a
handsome house in Cumberland, was a consideration which I could scarcely
admit into my mind--so fearful was I, that the very first occurrence of
the day should dispel the illusion, and throw me back into the dull
reality which I was hoping to escape from.

There is no adage more true than the old Latin one--\x93that what we wish,
we readily believe;\x94 so, I had little difficulty in convincing myself
that all was as I desired--although, certainly, my confused memory of the
past evening contributed little to that conviction.  It was, then, amid a
very whirl of anticipated pleasures, and new schemes for enjoying life,
that I sat down to a breakfast, at which, that I might lose no time in
commencing my race, I had ordered the most recherche viands which even
French cookery can accomplish for the occasion.

My plans were soon decided upon.  I resolved to remain only long enough
in Paris to provide myself with a comfortable travelling carriage--secure
a good courier--and start for Baden; when I trusted that my pretensions,
whatever favour they might have been once received with, would certainly
now, at least, be listened to with more prospect of being successful.

I opened the Galignani\x92s paper of the day, to direct me in my search, and
had scarcely read a few lines before a paragraph caught my eye, which not
a little amused me; it was headed--Serious riot at the Salon des
Etrangers, and attempt to rob the Bank:--

\x93Last evening, among the persons who presented themselves at the table of
this fashionable resort, were certain individuals, who, by their names
and dress bespoke any thing rather than the rank and condition of those
who usually resort there, and whose admission is still unexplained,
notwithstanding the efforts of the police to unravel the mystery.  The
proprietors of the bank did not fail to remark these persons; but
scrupled, from fear of disturbing the propriety of the salon, to take the
necessary steps for their exclusion--reserving their attention to the
adoption of precautions against such intrusion in future--unfortunately,
as it turned out eventually, for, towards eleven o\x92clock, one of these
individuals, having lost a considerable sum at play, proceeded in a very
violent and outrageous manner to denounce the bank, and went so far as to
accuse the croupier of cheating.  This language having failed to excite
the disturbance it was evidently intended to promote, was soon followed
up by a most dreadful personal attack upon the banquier, in which he was
thrown from his seat, and the cassette, containing several thousand
francs in gold and notes, immediately laid hold of.  The confusion now
became considerable, and it was apparent, that the whole had been a
pre-concerted scheme.  Several persons, leaping upon the table,
attempted to extinguish the great lustre of the salon, in which bold
attempt, they were most spiritedly resisted by some of the other players
and the gens-d\x92arme, who had by this time arrived in force.  The riot
was quelled after a prolonged and desperate resistance, and the rioters,
with the exception of two, were captured, and conveyed to prison, where
they await the result of a judicial investigation--of which we shall not
fail to lay the particulars before our readers.

\x93Since our going to press, we have learned that one of the ringleaders in
this vile scheme is a noted English escroc--a swindler, who was already
arrest at C____ for travelling with a false passport; but who contrives,
by some collusion with another of the gang, to evade the local
authorities.  If this be the case, we trust he will speedily be detected
and brought to punishment.\x94

Whatever amusement I had found in reading the commencing portion of this
ridiculous misstatement, the allusion in the latter part by no means
afforded me equal pleasure; and I saw, in one rapid glance, how much
annoyance, and how many delays and impediments--a charge even of this
ridiculous nature, might give rise to in my present circumstances.  My
passport, however, will settle all--thought I--as I thrust my hand
towards my pocket, in which I had placed it along with some letters.

Guess my misery, to discover that the whole of the pocket had been cut
away, probably in the hope of obtaining the billets de banque I had won
at play, but which I had changed from that pocket to a breast one on
leaving the table.  This at once led me to suspect that there might be
some truth in the suspicion of the newspaper writer of a pre-concerted
scheme, and at once explained to me what had much puzzled me before--the
extreme rapidity with which the elements of discord were propagated, for
the whole affair was the work of a few seconds.  While I continued to
meditate on these matters, the waiter entered with a small note in an
envelope, which a commissionaire had just left at the hotel for me, and
went away, saying there was no answer.  I opened it hastily, and read:--

     \x93Dear H.--The confounded affair of last night has induced me to
     leave this for a few days; besides that I have obtained a most
     excellent reason for absenting myself in the presence of a black
     eye, which will prevent my appearance in public for a week to come.
     As you are a stranger here, you need not fear being detected.  With
     all its desagremens, I can\x92t help laughing at the adventure, and I
     am heartily glad to have had the opportunity of displaying old
     Jackson\x92s science upon those wretched gens-d\x92arme.

                              \x93Your, truly,
                                             \x93G.L.\x94

This, certainly, thought I, improves my position.  Here is my cousin Guy
--the only one to whom, in any doubt or difficulty here, I could refer--
here he is--flown, without letting me know where to address him or find
him out.  I rung my bell hastily, and having written a line on my card,
requesting Lord Kilkee to come to me as soon as he could, despatched it
to the Rue de la Paix.  The messenger soon returned with an answer,
that Lord Kilkee had been obliged to leave Paris late the evening before,
having received some important letters from Baden.  My anxiety now became
greater.  I did not know but that the moment I ventured to leave the
hotel I should be recognised by some of the witnesses of the evening\x92s
fray; and all thoughts of succouring poor O\x92Leary were completely
forgotten in my fear for the annoyances the whole of this ridiculous
affair might involve me in.  Without any decision as to my future steps,
I dressed myself, and proceeded to pay my respects to Mrs. Bingham and
her daughter, who were in the same hotel, and whom I had not seen since
our arrival.

As I entered the drawing-room, I was surprised to find Miss Bingham
alone.  She appeared to have been weeping--at least the efforts she made
to appear easy and in good spirits contrasted a good deal with the
expression of her features as I came in.  To my inquiries for Mrs.
Bingham, I received for answer that the friends Mrs. Bingham had expected
having left a few days before for Baden, she had resolved on following
them, and had now merely driven out to make a few purchases before her
departure, which was to take place in the morning.

There is something so sad in the thought of being deserted and left by
one\x92s friends under any circumstances, that I cannot express how much
this intelligence affected me.  It seemed, too, like the last stroke of
bad news filling up the full measure, that I was to be suddenly deprived
of the society of the very few friends about me, just as I stood most in
need of them.

Whether or not Miss Bingham noticed my embarrassment, I cannot say;
but certainly she seemed not displeased, and there was in the
half-encouraging tone of her manner something which led me to suspect
that she was not dissatisfied with the impression her news seemed to
produce upon me.

Without at all alluding to my own improved fortune, or to the events
of the preceding night, I began to talk over the coming journey, and
expressed my sincere regret that, having lost my passport under
circumstances which might create some delay in retrieving it, I could
not join their party as I should otherwise have done.

Miss Bingham heard this speech with rather more emotion than so simple a
declaration was calculated to produce; and, while she threw down her eyes
beneath their long dark lashes, and coloured slightly, asked--

\x93And did you really wish to come with us?\x94

\x93Undoubtedly,\x94 said I.

\x93And is there no other objection than the passport?\x94

\x93None whatever,\x94 said I, warming as I spoke, for the interest she
appeared to take in me completely upset all my calculations, besides that
I had never seen her looking so handsome, and that, as the French wisely
remark, \x93vaut toujours quelque chose.\x94

\x93Oh, then, pray come with us, which you can do, for mamma has just got
her passport for her nephew along with her own; and as we really don\x92t
want him, nor he us, we shall both be better pleased to be free of each
other, and you can easily afterwards have your own forwarded to Baden by
post.\x94

\x93Ah, but,\x94 said I, \x93how shall I be certain, if I take so flattering an
offer, that you will forgive me for filling up the place of the dear
cousin; for, if I conjecture aright, it is \x91Le Cher Edouard\x92 that
purposes to be your companion.\x94

\x93Yes, you have guessed quite correctly; but you must not tax me with
inconsistency, but really I have grown quite tired of my poor cousin,
since I saw him last night.\x94

\x93And you used to admire him prodigiously.\x94

\x93Well, well, that is all true, but I do so no longer.\x94

\x93Eh! perche,\x94 said I, looking cunningly in her eye.

\x93For reasons that Mr. Lorrequer shall never know if he has to ask them,\x94
 said the poor girl, covering her eyes with her hands, and sobbing
bitterly.

What I thought, said, or did upon this occasion, with all my most sincere
desire to make a \x93clean breast of it in these confessions,\x94 I know not;
but this I do know, that two hours after, I found myself still sitting
upon the sofa beside Miss Bingham, whom I had been calling Emily all the
while, and talking more of personal matters and my own circumstances than
is ever safe or prudent for a young man to do with any lady under the age
of his mother.

All that I can now remember of this interview, is the fact of having
arranged my departure in the manner proposed by Miss Bingham--a
proposition to which I acceded with an affectation of satisfaction that
I fear went very far to deceive my fair friend.  Not that the pleasure
I felt in the prospect was altogether feigned; but certainly the habit
of being led away by the whim and temper of the moment had so much become
part of my nature, that I had long since despaired of ever guarding
myself against the propensity I had acquired, of following every lead
which any one might throw out for me.  And thus, as poor Harry Lorrequer
was ever the first man to get into a row at the suggestion of a friend,
so he only waited the least possible pressing on any occasion, to involve
himself in any scrape or misfortune that presented itself, provided there
was only some one good enough to advise him to do so.

As I entered my own room, to make preparations for my departure, I could
not help thinking over all the events thus crowded into the space of a
few hours.  My sudden possession of wealth--my prospects at Callonby
still undecided--my scrape at the Salon--my late interview with Miss
Bingham, in which I had only stopped short of a proposal to marry, were
almost sufficient to occupy any reasonable mind; and so I was beginning
to suspect, when the waiter informed me that the Commissaire of Police
was in waiting below, and wished to speak to me.  Affecting some surprise
at the request which I at once perceived the object of, I desired him to
be introduced.  I was quite correct in my guess.  The information of my
being concerned in the affair at the Salon had been communicated to the
authorities, and the Commissaire had orders to obtain bail for my
appearance at the Tribunal de Justice, on that day week, or commit me at
once to prison.  The Commissaire politely gave me till evening to procure
the required bail, satisfying himself that he could adopt measures to
prevent my escape, and took his leave.  He had scarcely gone when Mr.
Edward Bingham was announced--the reason for this visit I could not so
easily divine; but I had little time allowed for my conjectures, as the
same instant a very smart, dapper little gentleman presented himself,
dressed in all the extravagance of French mode.  His hair, which was
permitted to curl upon his shoulders, was divided along the middle of the
head; his moustaches were slightly upturned and carefully waxed, and his
small chin-tuft or Henri-quatre most gracefully pointed; he wore three
most happily contrasting coloured waistcoats, and spurs of glittering
brass.  His visit was of scarcely five minutes\x92 duration; but was
evidently the opening of a breaching battery by the Bingham family
in all form--the object of which I could at least guess at.

My embarrassments were not destined to end here; for scarcely had I
returned Mr. Bingham\x92s eighth salutation at the head of the staircase,
when another individual presented himself before me.  This figure was in
every respect the opposite of my last visitor.  Although framed perfectly
upon the late Parisian school of dandyism, his, however, was the \x93ecole
militaire.\x94  Le Capitaine Eugene de Joncourt, for so he introduced
himself, was a portly personage, of about five-and-thirty or forty years
of age, with that mixture of bon hommie and ferocity in his features
which the soldiers of Napoleon\x92s army either affected or possessed
naturally.  His features, which were handsome, and the expression of
which was pleasing, were, as it seemed, perverted, by the warlike turn of
a most terrific pair of whiskers and moustaches, from their naturally
good-humoured bent; and the practised frown and quick turn of his dark
eye were evidently only the acquired advantages of his military career;
a handsome mouth, with singularly regular and good teeth, took much away
from the farouche look of the upper part of his face; and contributed,
with the aid of a most pleasing voice, to impress you in his favour; his
dress was a blue braided frock, decorated with the cordon of the legion;
but neither these, nor the clink of his long cavalry spurs, were
necessary to convince you that the man was a soldier; besides that, there
was that mixture of urbanity and aplomb in his manner which showed him to
be perfectly accustomed to the usages of the best society.

\x93May I beg to know,\x94 said he, as he seated himself slowly, \x93if this card
contains your name and address,\x94 handing me at the same moment one of my
visiting cards.  I immediately replied in the affirmative.

\x93You are then in the English service?\x94

\x93Yes.\x94

\x93Then, may I entreat your pardon for the trouble of these questions, and
explain the reason of my visit.  I am the friend of Le Baron D\x92Haulpenne,
with whom you had the altercation last night in the Salon, and in whose
name I have come to request the address of a friend on your part.\x94

Ho, ho, thought I, the Baron is then the stout gentleman that I pummelled
so unmercifully near the window; but how came he by my card; and besides,
in a row of that kind, I am not aware how far the matter can be conceived
to go farther, than what happens at the moment.  These were the thoughts
of a second of time, and before I could reply any thing, the captain
resumed.

\x93You seem to have forgotten the circumstance, and so indeed should I like
to do; but unfortunately D\x92Haulpenne says that you struck him with your
walking-cane, so you know, under such a state of things, there is but one
course.\x94

\x93But gently,\x94 added I, \x93I had no cane whatever the last evening.\x94

\x93Oh! I beg pardon,\x94 interrupted he; \x93but my friend is most positive in
his account, and describes the altercation as having continued from the
Salon to the street, when you struck him, and at the same time threw him
your card.  Two of our officers were also present; and although, as it
appears from your present forgetfulness, that the thing took place in the
heat and excitement of the moment, still--\x94

\x93But still,\x94 said I, catching up his last words, \x93I never did strike the
gentleman as you describe--never had any altercation in the street--and--\x94

\x93Is that your address?\x94 said the Frenchman, with a slight bow.

\x93Yes, certainly it is.\x94

\x93Why then,\x94 said he, with a slight curl of his upper lip--half smile,
half derision--

\x93Oh! make yourself perfectly easy,\x94 I replied.  \x93If any one has by an
accident made use of my name, it shall not suffer by such a mistake.
I shall be quite at your service, the moment I can find out a friend to
refer you to.\x94

I had much difficulty to utter these few words with a suitable degree of
temper, so stung was I by the insolent demeanour of the Frenchman, whose
coolness and urbanity seemed only to increase every moment.

\x93Then I have the honour to salute you,\x94 said he, rising with great
mildness in his voice; \x93and shall take the liberty to leave my card for
the information of your friend.\x94

So saying, he placed his card upon the table--\x93Le Capitaine Eugene de
Joncourt, Cuirassiers de la Garde.\x94

\x93I need not press upon Monsieur the value of despatch.\x94

\x93I shall not lose a moment,\x94 said I, as he clattered down the stairs of
the hotel, with that perfect swaggering nonchalance which a Frenchman is
always an adept in; and I returned to my room, to meditate upon my
numerous embarrassments, and think over the difficulties which every
moment was contributing to increase the number of.

\x93The indictment has certainly many counts,\x94 thought I.

Imprimis--A half-implied, but fully comprehended promise to marry a young
lady, with whom, I confess, I only intend to journey this life--as far as
Baden.

Secondly, a charge of swindling--for such the imputation goes to--at the
Salon.

Thirdly, another unaccountable delay in joining the Callonbys, with whom
I am every hour in the risque of being \x93compromis;\x94 and lastly, a duel in
perspective with some confounded Frenchman, who is at this very moment
practising at a pistol gallery.

Such were the heads of my reflections, and such the agreeable impressions
my visit to Paris was destined to open with; how they were to be followed
up I reserve for another chapter.



THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Vol. 5

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.



Volume 5. (Chapter XXIX-XLI)


Contents:

CHAPTER XXIX
Captain Trevanion\x92s Adventure

CHAPTER XXX
Difficulties

CHAPTER XXXI
Explanation

CHAPTER XXXII
Mr O\x92Leary\x92s First Love

CHAPTER XXXIII
Mr O\x92Leary\x92s Second Love

CHAPTER XXXIV
The Duel

CHAPTER XXXV
Early Recollections--A First Love

CHAPTER XXXVI
Wise Resolves

CHAPTER XXXVII
The Proposal

CHAPTER XXXVIII
Thoughts upon Matrimony in general, and in the Army in particular--The
Knight of Kerry and Billy M\x92Cabe

CHAPTER XXXIX
A Reminiscence

CHAPTER XL
The Two Letters

CHAPTER XLI
Mr O\x92Leary\x92s Capture



CHAPTER XXIX.

CAPTAIN TREVANION\x92S ADVENTURE.

As the day was now waning apace, and I was still unprovided with any one
who could act as my second, I set out upon a search through the various
large hotels in the neighbourhood, trusting that amid my numerous
acquaintance I should be fortunate enough to find some of them at Paris.
With a most anxious eye I scanned the lists of arrivals at the usual
haunts of my countrymen, in the Rue Rivoli, and the Place Vendome, but
without success; there were long catalogues of \x93Milors,\x94 with their
\x93couriers,\x94 &c. but not one name known to me in the number.

I repaired to Galignani\x92s library, which, though crowded as ever with
English, did not present to me one familiar face.  From thence I turned
into the Palais Royale, and at last, completely jaded by walking, and
sick from disappointment, I sat down upon a bench in the Tuilleries
Garden.

I had scarcely been there many minutes when a gentleman accosted me in
English, saying, \x93May I ask if this be your property?\x94 showing, at the
same time, a pocket-book which I had inadvertently dropped in pulling out
my handkerchief.  As I thanked him for his attention, and was about to
turn away, I perceived that he continued to look very steadily at me.  At
length he said,

\x93I think I am not mistaken; I have the pleasure to see Mr. Lorrequer, who
may perhaps recollect my name, Trevanion of the 43rd.  The last time we
met was at Malta.\x94

\x93Oh, I remember perfectly.  Indeed I should be very ungrateful if I did
not; for to your kind offices there I am indebted for my life.  You must
surely recollect the street row at the \x91Caserne?\x92\x94

\x93Yes; that was a rather brisk affair while it lasted; but, pray, how long
are you here?\x94

\x93Merely a few days; and most anxious am I to leave as soon as possible;
for, independently of pressing reasons to wish myself elsewhere, I have
had nothing but trouble and worry since my arrival, and at this instant
am involved in a duel, without the slightest cause that I can discover,
and, what is still worse, without the aid of a single friend to undertake
the requisite negociation for me.\x94

\x93If my services can in any way assist--\x94

\x93Oh, my dear captain, this is really so great a favour that I cannot say
how much I thank you.\x94

\x93Say nothing whatever, but rest quite assured that I am completely at
your disposal; for although we are not very old friends, yet I have heard
so much of you from some of ours, that I feel as if we had been long
acquainted.\x94

This was an immense piece of good fortune to me; for, of all the persons
I knew, he was the most suited to aid me at this moment.  In addition to
a thorough knowledge of the continent and its habits, he spoke French
fluently, and had been the most renomme authority in the duello to a
large military acquaintance; joining to a consummate tact and cleverness
in his diplomacy, a temper that never permitted itself to be ruffled, and
a most unexceptionable reputation for courage.  In a word, to have had
Trevanion for your second, was not only to have secured odds in your
favour, but, still better, to have obtained the certainty that, let the
affair take what turn it might, you were sure of coming out of it with
credit.  He was the only man I have ever met, who had much mixed himself
in transactions of this nature, and yet never, by any chance, had
degenerated into the fire-eater; more quiet, unassuming manners it was
impossible to meet with, and, in the various anecdotes I have heard of
him, I have always traced a degree of forbearance, that men of less known
bravery might not venture to practise.  At the same time, when once
roused by any thing like premeditated insult--or pre-determined affront
--he became almost ungovernable, and it would be safer to beard the lion
in his den than cross his path.  Among the many stories, and there were a
great many current in his regiment concerning him, there was one so
singularly characteristic of the man, that, as I have passingly mentioned
his name here, I may as well relate it; at the same time premising that,
as it is well known, I may only be repeating an often-heard tale to many
of my readers.

When the regiment to which Trevanion belonged became part of the army of
occupation in Paris, he was left at Versailles seriously ill from the
effects of a sabre-wound he received at Waterloo, and from which his
recovery at first was exceedingly doubtful.  At the end of several weeks,
however, he became out of danger, and was able to receive the visits of
his brother officers, whenever they were fortunate enough to obtain a
day\x92s leave of absence, to run down and see him.  From them he learned
that one of his oldest friends in the regiment had fallen in a duel,
during the time of his illness, and that two other officers were
dangerously wounded--one of whom was not expected to survive.  When he
inquired as to the reasons of these many disasters, he was informed that
since the entrance of the allies into Paris, the French officers, boiling
with rage and indignation at their recent defeat, and smarting under the
hourly disgrace which the presence of their conquerors suggested, sought
out, by every means in their power, opportunities of insult; but always
so artfully contrived as to render the opposite party the challenger,
thus reserving to themselves the choice of weapons.  When therefore it
is borne in mind that the French are the most expert swordsmen in Europe,
little doubt can exist as to the issue of these combats; and, in fact,
scarcely a morning passed without three or four English or Prussian
officers being carried through the Barriere de l\x92Etoile, if not dead, at
least seriously wounded, and condemned to carry with them through life
the inflictions of a sanguinary and savage spirit of revenge.

While Trevanion listened to this sad recital, and scarcely did a day come
without adding to the long catalogue of disasters, he at once perceived
that the quiet deportment and unassuming demeanour which so strongly
characterise the English officer, were construed by their French
opponents into evidences of want of courage, and saw that to so
systematic a plan for slaughter no common remedy could be applied, and
that some \x93coup d\x92etat\x94 was absolutely necessary, to put it down once
and for ever.

In the history of these sanguinary rencontres, one name was continually
recurring, generally as the principal, sometimes the instigator of the
quarrel.  This was an officer of a chasseur regiment, who had the
reputation of being the best swordsman in the whole French army, and was
no less distinguished for his \x93skill at fence,\x94 than his uncompromising
hatred of the British, with whom alone, of all the allied forces, he was
ever known to come in contact.  So celebrated was the \x93Capitaine Augustin
Gendemar\x94 for his pursuits, that it was well known at that time in Paris
that he was the president of a duelling club, associated for the express
and avowed object of provoking to insult, and as certainly dooming to
death every English officer upon whom they could fasten a quarrel.

The Cafe Philidor, at that period in the Rue Vivienne, was the rendezvous
of this reputable faction, and here \x93le Capitaine\x94 reigned supreme,
receiving accounts of the various \x93affairs\x94 which were transacting
--counselling and plotting for the future.  His ascendancy among his
countrymen was perfectly undisputed, and being possessed of great
muscular strength, with that peculiarly \x93farouche\x94 exterior, without
which courage is nothing in France, he was in every way calculated for
the infamous leadership he assumed.

It was, unfortunately, to this same cafe, being situated in what was
called the English quarter, that the officers of the 43rd regiment were
in the habit of resorting, totally unaware of the plots by which they
were surrounded, and quite unsuspecting the tangled web of deliberate and
cold-blooded assassination in which they were involved, and here took
place the quarrel, the result of which was the death of Trevanion\x92s
friend, a young officer of great promise, and universally beloved in his
regiment.

As Trevanion listened to these accounts, his impatience became daily
greater, that his weak state should prevent his being among his brother
officers, when his advice and assistance were so imperatively required,
and where, amid all the solicitude for his perfect recovery, he could not
but perceive they ardently wished for him.

The day at last arrived, and restored to something like his former self,
Trevanion once more appeared in the mess-room of his regiment.  Amid the
many sincere and hearty congratulations on his recovered looks, were not
a few half-expressed hints that he might not go much out into the world
for some little time to come.  To these friendly admonitions Trevanion
replied by a good-humoured laugh, and a ready assurance that he
understood the intended kindness, and felt in no wise disposed to be
invalided again.  \x93In fact,\x94 said he, \x93I have come up here to enjoy life
a little, not to risque it; but, among the sights of your gay capital, I
must certainly have a peep at your famed captain, of whom I have heard
too much not to feel an interest in him.\x94

Notwithstanding the many objections to this, made with a view to delay
his visit to the Philidor to a later period, it was at length agreed,
that they should all repair to the cafe that evening, but upon the
express understanding that every cause of quarrel should be strictly
avoided, and that their stay should be merely sufficient to satisfy
Trevanion\x92s curiosity as to the personnel of the renomme captain.

It was rather before the usual hour of the cafe\x92s filling, that a number
of English officers, among whom was Trevanion, entered the \x93salon\x94 of the
\x93Philidor;\x94 having determined not to attract any unusual attention, they
broke into little knots and parties of threes and fours, and dispersed
through the room, where they either sipped their coffee or played at
dominoes, then, as now, the staple resource of a French cafe.

The clock over the \x93comptoir\x94 struck eight, and, at the same instant,
a waiter made his appearance, carrying a small table, which he placed
beside the fire, and, having trimmed a lamp, and placed a large fauteuil
before it, was about to withdraw, when Trevanion, whose curiosity was
roused by the singularity of these arrangements, determined upon asking
for whose comfort they were intended.  The waiter stared for a moment at
the question, with an air as if doubting the seriousness of him who put
it, and at last replied--\x93Pour Monsieur le Capitaine, je crois,\x94 with a
certain tone of significance upon the latter words.

\x93Le Capitaine! but what captain?\x94 said he, carelessly; \x93for I am a
captain, and that gentleman there--and there, too, is another,\x94 at the
same instant throwing himself listlessly into the well-cushioned chair,
and stretching out his legs at full length upon the hearth.

The look of horror which this quiet proceeding on his part, elicited from
the poor waiter, so astonished him that he could not help saying--\x93is
there any thing the matter with you, my friend; are you ill?\x94

\x93No, monsieur, not ill; nothing the matter with me; but you, sir; oh,
you, sir, pray come away.\x94

\x93Me,\x94 said Trevanion; \x93me! why, my good man, I was never better in my
life; so now just bring me my coffee and the Moniteur, if you have it;
there, don\x92t stare that way, but do as I bid you.\x94

There was something in the assured tone of these few words that either
overawed or repressed every rising feeling of the waiter, for his
interrogator; for, silently handing his coffee and the newspaper, he left
the room; not, however, without bestowing a parting glance so full of
terror and dismay that our friend was obliged to smile at it.  All this
was the work of a few minutes, and not until the noise of new arrivals
had attracted the attention of his brother officers, did they perceive
where he had installed himself, and to what danger he was thus, as they
supposed, unwittingly exposed.

It was now, however, too late for remonstrance; for already several
French officers had noticed the circumstance, and by their interchange of
looks and signs, openly evinced their satisfaction at it, and their
delight at the catastrophe which seemed inevitable to the luckless
Englishman.

In perfect misery at what they conceived their own fault, in not
apprising him of the sacred character of that place, they stood silently
looking at him as he continued to sip his coffee, apparently unconscious
of every thing and person about him.

There was now a more than ordinary silence in the cafe, which at all
times was remarkable for the quiet and noiseless demeanour of its
frequenters, when the door was flung open by the ready waiter, and the
Capitaine Augustin Gendemar entered.  He was a large, squarely-built man,
with a most savage expression of countenance, which a bushy beard and
shaggy overhanging moustache served successfully to assist; his eyes were
shaded by deep, projecting brows, and long eyebrows slanting over them,
and increasing their look of piercing sharpness; there was in his whole
air and demeanour that certain French air of swaggering bullyism, which
ever remained in those who, having risen from the ranks, maintained the
look of ruffianly defiance which gave their early character for courage
peculiar merit.

To the friendly salutations of his countrymen he returned the slightest
and coldest acknowledgments, throwing a glance of disdain around him as
he wended his way to his accustomed place beside the fire; this he did
with as much of noise and swagger as he could well contrive; his sabre
and sabretasch clanking behind, his spurs jangling, and his heavy step,
made purposely heavier to draw upon him the notice and attention he
sought for.  Trevanion alone testified no consciousness of his entrance,
and appeared totally engrossed by the columns of his newspaper, from
which he never lifted his eyes for an instant.  Le Capitaine at length
reached the fire-place, when, no sooner did he behold his accustomed seat
in the possession of another, than he absolutely started back with
surprise and anger.

What might have been his first impulse it is hard to say, for, as the
blood rushed to his face and forehead, he clenched his hands firmly, and
seemed for an instant, as he eyed the stranger, like a tiger about to
spring upon its victim; this was but for a second, for turning rapidly
round towards his party, he gave them a look of peculiar meaning, showing
two rows of white teeth, with a grin which seemed to say, \x93I have taken
my line;\x94 and he had done so.  He now ordered the waiter, in a voice of
thunder, to bring him a chair, this he took roughly from him, and placed,
with a crash, upon the floor, exactly opposite that of Trevanion, and
still so near as scarcely to permit of his sitting down upon it.  The
noisy vehemence of this action at last appeared to have roused
Trevanion\x92s attention, for he now, for the first time, looked up from his
paper, and quietly regarded his vis-a-vis.  There could not in the world
be a stronger contrast to the bland look and courteous expression of
Trevanion\x92s handsome features, than the savage scowl of the enraged
Frenchman, in whose features the strong and ill-repressed workings of
passion were twitching and distorting every lineament and line; indeed no
words could ever convey one half so forcibly as did that look, insult
--open, palpable, deep, determined insult.

Trevanion, whose eyes had been merely for a moment lifted from his
paper, again fell, and he appeared to take no notice whatever of the
extraordinary proximity of the Frenchman, still less of the savage and
insulting character of his looks.

Le Capitaine, having thus failed to bring on the eclaircissement he
sought for, proceeded to accomplish it by other means; for, taking the
lamp, by the light of which Trevanion was still reading, he placed it at
his side of the table, and at the same instant stretching across his arm,
he plucked the newspaper from his hand, giving at the same moment a
glance of triumph towards the bystanders, as though he would say, \x93you
see what he must submit to.\x94  Words cannot describe the astonishment of
the British officers, as they beheld Trevanion, under this gross and open
insult, content himself by a slight smile and half bow, as if returning
a courtesy, and then throw his eyes downward, as if engaged in deep
thought, while the triumphant sneer of the French, at this unaccountable
conduct, was absolutely maddening to them to endure.

But their patience was destined to submit to stronger proof, for at this
instant le Capitaine stretched forth one enormous leg, cased in his
massive jack-boot, and with a crash deposited the heel upon the foot of
their friend Trevanion.  At length he is roused, thought they, for a
slight flush of crimson flitted across his cheek, and his upper lip
trembled with a quick spasmodic twitching; but both these signs were over
in a second, and his features were as calm and unmoved as before, and his
only appearance of consciousness of the affront, was given by his drawing
back his chair and placing his legs beneath it, as for protection.

This last insult, and the tame forbearance with which it was submitted
to, produced all their opposite effects upon the by-standers, and
looks of ungovernable rage and derisive contempt were every moment
interchanging; indeed, were it not for the all-absorbing interest which
the two great actors in the scene had concentrated upon themselves, the
two parties must have come at once into open conflict.

The clock of the cafe struck nine, the hour at which Gendemar always
retired, so calling to the waiter for his petit verre of brandy, he
placed his newspaper upon the table, and putting both his elbows upon it,
and his chin upon his hands, he stared full in Trevanion\x92s face, with a
look of the most derisive triumph, meant to crown the achievement of the
evening.  To this, as to all his former insults, Trevanion appeared still
insensible, and merely regarded him with his never--changing half smile;
the petite verre arrived; le Capitaine took it in his hand, and, with a
nod of most insulting familiarity, saluted Trevanion, adding with a loud
voice, so as to be heard on every side--\x93a votre courage, Anglais.\x94  He
had scarcely swallowed the liqueur when Trevanion rose slowly from his
chair, displaying to the astonished gaze of the Frenchman the immense
proportions and gigantic frame of a man well known as the largest officer
in the British army; with one stride he was beside the chair of the
Frenchman, and with the speed of lightening he seized his nose by one
hand, while with the other he grasped his lower jaw, and, wrenching open
his mouth with the strength of an ogre, he spat down his throat.

So sudden was the movement, that before ten seconds had elapsed, all was
over, and the Frenchman rushed from the room, holding the fragments of
his jaw-bone, (for it was fractured!) And followed by his countrymen,
who, from that hour, deserted the Cafe Philidor, nor was there ever any
mention of the famous captain during the stay of the regiment in Paris.



CHAPTER XXX.

DIFFICULTIES.

While we walked together towards Meurice, I explained to Trevanion the
position in which I stood; and having detailed, at full length, the
fracas at the Salon, and the imprisonment of O\x92Leary, entreated his
assistance in behalf of him, as well as to free me from some of my many
embarrassments.

It was strange enough--though at first so pre-occupied was I with other
thoughts, that I paid but little attention to it--that no part of my
eventful evening seemed to make so strong an impression on him as my
mention of having seen my cousin Guy, and heard from him of the death of
my uncle.  At this portion of my story he smiled, with so much
significance of meaning, that I could not help asking his reason.

\x93It is always an unpleasant task, Mr. Lorrequer, to speak in any way,
however delicately, in a tone of disparagement of a man\x92s relatives; and,
therefore, as we are not long enough acquainted--\x94

\x93But pray,\x94 said I, \x93waive that consideration, and only remember the
position in which I now am.  If you know any thing of this business, I
entreat you to tell me--I promise to take whatever you may be disposed to
communicate, in the same good part it is intended.\x94

\x93Well, then, I believe you are right; but, first, let me ask you, how do
you know of your uncle\x92s death; for I have reason to doubt it?\x94

\x93From Guy; he told me himself.\x94

\x93When did you see him, and where?\x94

\x93Why, I have just told you; I saw him last night at the Salon.\x94

\x93And you could not be mistaken?\x94

\x93Impossible!  Besides, he wrote to me a note which I received this
morning--here it is.\x94

\x93Hem--ha.  Well, are you satisfied that this is his handwriting?\x94 said
Trevanion, as he perused the note slowly twice over.

\x93Why, of course--but stop--you are right; it is not his hand, nor do I
know the writing, now that you direct my attention to it.  But what can
that mean?  You, surely, do not suppose that I have mistaken any one for
him; for, independent of all else, his knowledge of my family, and my
uncle\x92s affairs, would quite disprove that.\x94

\x93This is really a complex affair,\x94 said Trevanion, musingly.  \x93How long
may it be since you saw your cousin--before last night, I mean?\x94

\x93Several years; above six, certainly.\x94

\x93Oh, it is quite possible, then,\x94 said Trevanion, musingly; \x93do you know,
Mr. Lorrequer, this affair seems much more puzzling to me than to you,
and for this plain reason--I am disposed to think you never saw your
cousin last night.\x94

\x93Why, confound it, there is one circumstance that I think may satisfy you
on that head.  You will not deny that I saw some one, who very much
resembled him; and certainly, as he lent me above three thousand franks
to play with at the table, it looks rather more like his act than that of
a perfect stranger.\x94

\x93Have you got the money?\x94 asked Trevanion dryly.

\x93Yes,\x94 said I; \x93but certainly you are the most unbelieving of mortals,
and I am quite happy that I have yet in my possession two of the billets
de banque, for, I suppose, without them, you would scarcely credit me.\x94
 I here opened my pocket-book, and produced the notes.

He took them, examined them attentively for an instant, held them between
him and the light, refolded them, and, having placed them in my
pocket-book, said--\x93I thought as much--they are forgeries.\x94

\x93Hold!\x94 said I, \x93my cousin Guy, whatever wildness he may have committed,
is yet totally incapable of--\x94

\x93I never said the contrary, replied Trevanion, in the same dry tone as
before.

\x93Then what can you mean, for I see no alternative between that and
totally discrediting the evidence of my senses?\x94

\x93Perhaps I can suggest a middle course,\x94 said Trevanion; \x93lend me,
therefore, a patient hearing for a few moments, and I may be able to
throw some light upon this difficult matter.  You may never have heard
that there is, in this same city of Paris, a person so extremely like
your cousin Guy, that his most intimate friends have daily mistaken one
for the other, and this mistake has the more often been made, from the
circumstances of their both being in the habit of frequenting the same
class in society, where, knowing and walking with the same people, the
difficulty of discriminating has been greatly increased.  This
individual, who has too many aliases for one to know which to
particularise him by, is one of that numerous order of beings whom a
high state of civilization is always engendering and throwing up on the
surface of society; he is a man of low birth and mean connexions, but
gifted with most taking manners and an unexceptionable address and
appearance; these advantages, and the possession of apparently
independent means, have opened to him the access to a certain set of
people, who are well known and well received in society, and obtained for
him, what he prizes much more, the admission into several clubs where
high play is carried on.  In this mixed assemblage, which sporting habits
and gambling, (that grand leveller of all distinctions,) have brought
together, this man and your cousin Guy met frequently, and, from the
constant allusion to the wonderful resemblance between them, your
eccentric cousin, who, I must say, was never too select in his
acquaintances, frequently amused himself by practical jokes upon their
friends, which served still more to nurture the intimacy between them;
and from this habit, Mr. Dudley Morewood, for such is his latest
patronymic, must have enjoyed frequent opportunities of hearing much of
your family and relations, a species of information he never neglected,
though at the moment it might appear not so immediately applicable to his
purposes.  Now, this man, who knows of every new English arrival in
Paris, with as much certainty as the police itself, would at once be
aware of your being here, and having learned from Guy how little
intercourse there had been of late years between you, would not let slip
an opportunity of availing himself of the likeness, if any thing could
thereby turn to his profit.\x94

\x93Stop,\x94 cried I; \x93you have opened my eyes completely, for now I remember
that, as I continued to win last night, this man, who was playing hazard
at another table, constantly borrowed from me, but always in gold,
invariably refusing the billets de banque as too high for his game.\x94

\x93There his object was clear enough; for besides obtaining your gold, he
made you the means of disseminating his false billets de banque.\x94

\x93So that I have been actually playing and winning upon this fellow\x92s
forgeries,\x94 said I; \x93and am perhaps at this very instant inscribed in the
\x91Livre noir\x92 of the police, as a most accomplished swindler; but what
could be the intention of his note of this morning?\x94

\x93As to that,\x94 said Trevanion, \x93it is hard to say; one thing you may
assuredly rely upon--it is not an unnecessary epistle, whatever be its
object; he never wastes his powder when the game flies too high; so we
must only wait patiently for the unravelment of his plans, satisfied that
we, at least, know something.  What most surprises me is, his venturing,
at present, to appear in public; for it is not above two months since an
escapade of his attracted so much attention of the play world here, that
he was obliged to leave, and it was supposed that he would never return
to Paris.\x94

\x93One piece of good fortune there is at least,\x94 said I, \x93which, I can
safely say repays me for any and all the annoyance this unhappy affair
may cause me; it is, that my poor old uncle is still alive and well.
Not all my anticipated pleasures, in newly acquired wealth, could have
afforded me the same gratification that this fact does, for, although
never so much his favourite as my cousin, yet the sense of protection
--the feeling of confidence, which is inseparable from the degree of
relationship between us--standing, as he has ever done, in the light
of a father to me, is infinitely more pleasurable than the possession of
riches, which must ever suggest to me, the recollection of a kind friend
lost to me for ever.  But so many thoughts press on me--so many effects
of this affair are staring me in the face--I really know not which way to
turn, nor can I even collect my ideas sufficiently, to determine what is
first to be done.\x94

\x93Leave all that to me,\x94 said Trevanion; \x93it is a tangled web, but I think
I can unravel it; meanwhile, where does the Militaire reside? for, among
all your pressing engagements, this affair with the Frenchman must come
off first; and for this reason, although you are not really obliged to
give him satisfaction, by his merely producing your card, and insisting
that you are to be responsible for the misdeeds of any one who might show
it as his own address, yet I look upon it as a most fortunate thing,
while charges so heavy may be at this moment hanging over your head, as
the proceedings of last night involve, that you have a public opportunity
of meeting an antagonist in the field--thereby evincing no fear of
publicity, nor any intention of absconding; for be assured, that the
police are at this moment in possession of what has occurred, and from
the fracas which followed, are well disposed to regard the whole as a
concerted scheme to seize upon the property of the banque, a not uncommon
wind-up here after luck fails.  My advice is therefore, meet the man at
once; I shall take care that the prefect is informed that you have been
imposed upon by a person passing himself off as your relative, and enter
bail for your appearance, whenever you are called upon; that being done,
we shall have time for a moment\x92s respite to look around us, and consider
the other bearings of this difficult business.\x94

\x93Here, then, is the card of address,\x94 said I; \x93Eugene Dejoncourt
Capitaine de Cavalerie, No. 8, Chausse D\x92Antin.\x94

\x93Dejoncourt! why, confound it, this is not so pleasant; he is about the
best shot in Paris, and a very steady swordsman besides, I don\x92t like
this.\x94

\x93But you forget he is the friend, not the principal here.\x94

\x93The more good fortune yours,\x94 said Trevanion, drily; \x93for I acknowledge
I should not give much for your chance at twenty paces opposite his
pistol; then who is the other?\x94

\x93Le Baron d\x92Haulpenne,\x94 said I, \x93and his name is all that I know of him;
his very appearance is unknown to me.\x94

\x93I believe I am acquainted with him,\x94 said Trevanion; \x93but here we are at
Meurice.  Now I shall just write a few lines to a legal friend, who will
manage to liberate Mr. O\x92Leary, whose services we shall need, two persons
are usual on each side in this country, and then, \x91a l\x92ouvrage.\x92\x94

The note written and despatched; Trevanion jumped into a cab, and set out
for the Chausse D\x92Antin; leaving me to think over, as well as I could,
the mass of trouble and confusion that twenty-four hours of life in Paris
had involved me in.



CHAPTER XXXI.

EXPLANATION.

It was past seven o\x92clock when Trevanion made his appearance, accompanied
by O\x92Leary; and having in few words informed me that a meeting was fixed
for the following morning, near St. Cloud, proposed that we should go to
dinner at Verey\x92s, after which we should have plenty of time to discuss
the various steps to be taken.  As we were leaving the hotel for this
purpose, a waiter requested of me to permit Mr. Meurice to speak a few
words to me; which, having agreed to, I entered the little bureau where
this Czar of hotels sits enthroned, and what was my surprise to learn the
request he had to prefer, was nothing less than that I would so far
oblige him as to vacate the room I possessed in the hotel, adding that my
compliance would confer upon him the power to accommodate a \x93milor\x94 who
had written for apartments, and was coming with a large suite of
servants.  Suspecting that some rumour of the late affair at Frescati
might have influenced my friend Meurice in this unusual demand, I
abruptly refused, and was about to turn away, when he, perhaps guessing
that I had not believed his statements, handed me an open letter, saying,
\x93You see, sir, this is the letter; and, as I am so pressed for spare
room, I must now refuse the writer.\x94

As my eye glanced at the writing, I started back with amazement to
perceive it was in my cousin Guy\x92s hand, requesting that apartments might
be retained for Sir Guy Lorrequer, my uncle, who was to arrive in Paris
by the end of the week.  If any doubt had remained on my mind as to the
deception I had been duped by, this would completely have dispelled it,
but I had long before been convinced of the trick, and only wondered how
the false Guy--Mr. Dudley Morewood--had contrived to present himself to
me so opportunely, and by what means, in so short a space of time, he had
become acquainted with my personal appearance.

As I mentioned this circumstance of the letter to Trevanion, he could not
conceal his satisfaction at his sagacity in unravelling the mystery,
while this new intelligence confirmed the justness and accuracy of all
his explanations.

While we walked along towards the Palais Royale, Trevanion endeavoured
not very successfully, to explain to my friend O\x92Leary, the nature of the
trick which had been practised, promising, at another time, some
revelations concerning the accomplished individual who had planned it,
which, in boldness and daring, eclipsed even this.

Any one who in waking has had the confused memory of a dream in which
events have been so mingled and mixed as to present no uniform narrative,
but only a mass of strange and incongruous occurrences, without object or
connexion, may form some notion of the state of restless excitement my
brain suffered from, as the many and conflicting ideas my late adventures
suggested, presented themselves to my mind in rapid succession.

The glare, the noise, and the clatter of a French cafe are certainly not
the agents most in request for restoring a man to the enjoyment of his
erring faculties; and, if I felt addled and confused before, I had
scarcely passed the threshold of Verey\x92s when I became absolutely like
one in a trance.  The large salon was more than usually crowded, and it
was with difficulty that we obtained a place at a table where some other
English were seated, among whom I recognised by lately made acquaintance,
Mr. Edward Bingham.

Excepting a cup of coffee I had taken nothing the entire day, and so
completely did my anxieties of different kinds subdue all appetite, that
the most recherche viands of this well-known restaurant did not in the
least tempt me.  The champagne alone had any attraction for me; and,
seduced by the icy coldness of the wine, I drank copiously.  This was all
that was wanting to complete the maddening confusion of my brain, and the
effect was instantaneous; the lights danced before my eyes; the lustres
whirled round; and, as the scattered fragments of conversations, on
either side met my ear, I was able to form some not very inaccurate
conception of what insanity may be.  Politics and literature, Mexican
bonds and Noblet\x92s legs, Pates de perdreaux and the quarantine laws, the
extreme gauche and the \x93Bains Chinois,\x94 Victor Hugo and rouge et noir,
had formed a species of grand ballet d\x92action in my fevered brain, and I
was perfectly beside myself; occasionally, too, I would revert to my own
concerns, although I was scarcely able to follow up any train of thought
for more than a few seconds together, and totally inadequate to
distinguish the false from the true.  I continued to confound the
counterfeit with my cousin, and wonder how my poor uncle, for whom I was
about to put on the deepest mourning, could possibly think of driving me
out of my lodgings.  Of my duel for the morning, I had the most shadowy
recollection, and could not perfectly comprehend whether it was O\x92Leary
or I was the principal, and indeed cared but little.  In this happy state
of independent existence I must have passed a considerable time, and as
my total silence when spoken to, or my irrelevant answers, appeared to
have tired out my companions, they left me to the uninterrupted enjoyment
of my own pleasant imaginings.

\x93Do you hear, Lorrequer,\x94 at last said Trevanion; \x93are you asleep, my
dear friend?  This gentleman has been good enough to invite us to
breakfast to-morrow at St. Cloud.\x94

I looked up, and was just able to recognise the well-trimmed moustache of
Mr. Edward Bingham, as he stood mumbling something before me.  \x93St. Cloud
--what of St. Cloud?\x94 said I.

\x93We have something in that quarter to-morrow.\x94

\x93What is it, O\x92Leary?  Can we go?\x94

\x93Oh! certainly--our engagement\x92s an early one.\x94

\x93We shall accept your polite invitation with pleasure\x94--

Here he stooped over, and whispered something in my ear; what, I cannot
say, but I know that my reply, now equally lost to me, produced a hearty
fit of laughing to my two friends.

My next recollection is, finding myself in a crowded loge at the theatre.
It seems that O\x92Leary had acceded to a proposal from some of the other
party to accompany them to the Porte St. Martin, where Mrs. Bingham and
her daughter had engaged a box.  Amid all the confusion which troubled
thoughts and wine produced in me, I could not help perceiving a studied
politeness and attention on the part of Mr. Edward Bingham towards me;
and my first sobering reflection came, on finding that a place was
reserved for me beside Miss Bingham, into which, by some contrivance I
can in no wise explain, I found myself almost immediately installed.  To
all the excitements of champagne and punch, let the attractions of a
French ballet be added, and, with a singularly pretty companion at your
side, to whom you have already made sufficient advances to be aware that
you are no longer indifferent to her, and I venture to predict, that it
is much more likely your conversation will incline to flirting than
political economy; and, moreover, that you make more progress during the
performance of one single pas de deux upon the stage, than you have
hitherto done in ten morning calls, with an unexceptionable whisker and
the best fitting gloves in Paris.  Alas! alas! it is only the rich man
that ever wins at rouge et noir.  The well-insured Indiaman, with her
cargo of millions, comes safe into port; while the whole venture of some
hardy veteran of the wave, founders within sight of his native shore.  So
is it ever; where success would be all and every thing, it never comes
--but only be indifferent or regardless, and fortune is at your feet,
suing and imploring your acceptance of her favours.  What would I not
have given for one half of that solicitude now so kindly expressed in my
favour by Miss Bingham, if syllabled by the lips of Lady Jane Callonby
--how would my heart have throbbed for one light smile from one, while I
ungratefully basked in the openly avowed preference of the other.  These
were my first thoughts--what were the succeeding ones?

\x93Comment elle est belle,\x94 said a Frenchwoman, turning round in the box
next to us, and directing at the same moment the eyes of a moustached
hero upon my fair companion.

What a turn to my thoughts did this unexpected ejaculation give rise to!
I now began to consider her more attentively, and certainly concurred
fully in the Frenchwoman\x92s verdict.  I had never see her look half so
well before.  The great fault in her features, which were most
classically regular, lay in the monotony and uniform character of their
expression.  Now this was quite changed.  Her cheek was slightly flushed,
and her eyes more brilliant than ever; while her slightly parted lips
gave a degree of speaking earnestness to her expression, that made her
perfectly beautiful.

Whether it was from this cause I cannot say, but I certainly never felt
so suddenly decided in my life from one course to its very opposite, as I
now did to make l\x92aimable to my lovely companion.  And here, I fear, I
must acknowledge, in the honesty of these confessional details, that
vanity had also its share in the decision.  To be the admitted and
preferred suitor of the prettiest woman in company, is generally a strong
inducement to fall desperately in love with her, independently of other
temptations for so doing.

How far my successes tallied with my good intentions in this respect, I
cannot now say.  I only remember, that more than once O\x92Leary whispered
to me something like a caution of some sort or other; but Emily\x92s
encouraging smiles and still more encouraging speeches had far more
effect upon me than all the eloquence of the united service, had it been
engaged in my behalf, would have effected.  Mrs. Bingham, too--who, to do
her justice, seemed but little cognisant of our proceedings--from time to
time evinced that species of motherly satisfaction which very young men
rejoice much in, and older ones are considerably alarmed at.

The play over O\x92Leary charged himself with the protection of madam,
while I enveloped Emily in her cachmere, and drew her arm within my own.
What my hand had to do with her\x92s I know not; it remains one of the
unexplained difficulties of that eventful evening.  I have, it is true,
a hazy recollection of pressing some very taper and delicately formed
finger--and remember, too, the pain I felt next morning on awaking, by
the pressure of a too tight ring, which had, by some strange accident,
found its way to my finger, for which its size was but ill adapted.

\x93You will join us at supper, I hope,\x94 said Mrs. Bingham, as Trevanion
handed her to her carriage.  \x93Mr. Lorrequer, Mr. O\x92Leary, we shall expect
you.\x94

I was about to promise to do so, when Trevanion, suddenly interrupted
me, saying that he had already accepted an invitation, which would,
unfortunately, prevent us; and having hastily wished the ladies good
night, hurried me away so abruptly, that I had not a moment given for
even one parting look at the fair Emily.

\x93Why, Trevanion,\x94 said I, \x93what invitation are you dreaming of?  I, for
one, should have been delighted to have gone home with the Binghams.\x94

\x93So I perceived,\x94 said Trevanion, gravely; \x93and it was for that precise
reason I so firmly refused what, individually, I should have been most
happy to accept.\x94

\x93Then, pray, have the goodness to explain.\x94

\x93It is easily done.  You have already, in recounting your manifold
embarrassments, told me enough of these people, to let me see that they
intend you should marry among them; and, indeed, you have gone quite far
enough to encourage such an expectation.  Your present excited state has
led you sufficiently far this evening, and I could not answer for your
not proposing in all form before the supper was over; therefore, I had no
other course open to me than positively to refuse Mrs. Bingham\x92s
invitation.  But here we are now at the \x91Cadran rouge;\x92 we shall have our
lobster and a glass of Moselle, and then to bed, for we must not forget
that we are to be at St. Cloud by seven.\x94

\x93Ah! that is a good thought of yours about the lobster,\x94 said O\x92Leary;
\x93and now, as you understand these matters, just order supper, and let us
enjoy ourselves.\x94

With all the accustomed despatch of a restaurant, a most appetizing petit
souper made its speedy appearance; and although now perfectly divested of
the high excitement which had hitherto possessed me, my spirits were
excellent, and I never more relished our good fare and good fellowship.

After a full bumper to the health of the fair Emily had been proposed and
drained by all three, Trevanion again explained how much more serious
difficulty would result from any false step in that quarter than from all
my other scrapes collectively.

This he represented so strongly, that for the first time I began to
perceive the train of ill consequences that must inevitably result, and
promised most faithfully to be guided by any counsel he might feel
disposed to give me.

\x93Ah! what a pity,\x94 said O\x92Leary, \x93it is not my case.  It\x92s very little
trouble it would cost any one to break off a match for me.  I had always
a most peculiar talent for those things.

\x93Indeed!\x94 said Trevanion.  \x93Pray, may we know your secret? for, perhaps,
ere long we may have occasion for its employment.\x94

\x93Tell it, by all means,\x94 said I.

\x93If I do,\x94 said O\x92Leary, \x93it will cost you a patient hearing; for my
experiences are connected with two episodes in my early life, which,
although not very amusing, are certainly instructive.\x94

\x93Oh! by all means, let us hear them,\x94 said Trevanion; \x93for we have yet
two bottles of chambertin left, and must finish them ere we part.\x94

\x93Well, agreed,\x94 said O\x92Leary; \x93only, once for all, as what I am about to
confide is strictly confidential, you must promise never even to allude
to it hereafter in even the most remote manner, much less indulge in any
unseemly mirth at what I shall relate.\x94

Having pledged ourselves to secrecy and a becoming seriousness, O\x92Leary
began his story as follows:--



CHAPTER XXXII.

MR. O\x92LEARY\x92S FIRST LOVE.

\x93It was during the vice-royalty of the late Duke of Richmond that the
incidents I am about to mention took place.  That was a few years since,
and I was rather younger, and a little more particular about my dress
than at present.\x94  Here the little man cast an eye of stoical
satisfaction upon his uncouth habiliments, that nearly made us forget our
compact, and laugh outright.  \x93Well, in those wild and headstrong days of
youthful ardour, I fell in love--desperately in love--and as always is, I
believe, the case with our early experiments in that unfortunate passion,
the object of my affection was in every way unsuited to me.  She was a
tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed maiden, with a romantic imagination, and a
kind of a half-crazed poetic fervour, that often made me fear for her
intellect.  I\x92m a short, rather fat--I was always given this way\x94--here
he patted a waistcoat that would fit Dame Lambert--\x93happy-minded little
fellow, that liked my supper of oysters at the Pigeon-house, and my other
creature-comforts, and hated every thing that excited or put one out of
one\x92s way, just as I would have hated a blister.  Then, the devil would
have it--for as certainly as marriages are made in heaven, flirtations
have something to say to the other place--that I should fall most
irretrievably in love with Lady Agnes Moreton.  Bless my soul, it
absolutely puts me in a perspiration this hot day, just to think over all
I went through on her account; for, strange to say, the more I appeared
to prosper in her good graces, the more did she exact on my part; the
pursuit was like Jacob\x92s ladder--if it did lead to heaven it was
certainly an awfully long journey, and very hard on one\x92s legs.  There
was not an amusement she could think of, no matter how unsuited to my
tastes or my abilities, that she did not immediately take a violent fancy
to; and then there was no escaping, and I was at once obliged to go with
the tide, and heaven knows if it would not have carried me to my grave if
it were not for the fortunate (I now call it) accident that broke off the
affair for ever.  One time she took a fancy for yachting, and all the
danglers about her--and she always had a cordon of them--young
aides-de-camp of her father the general, and idle hussars, in clanking
sabertasches and most absurd mustachios--all approved of the taste, and
so kept filling her mind with anecdotes of corsairs and smugglers, that
at last nothing would satisfy her till I--I who always would rather have
waited for low water, and waded the Liffey in all its black mud, than
cross over in the ferry-boat, for fear of sickness--I was obliged to put
an advertisement in the newspaper for a pleasure-boat, and, before three
weeks, saw myself owner of a clinker-built schooner, of forty-eight tons,
that by some mockery of fortune was called \x91The Delight.\x92  I wish you saw
me, as you might have done every morning for about a month, as I stood on
the Custom-house quay, giving orders for the outfit of the little craft.
At first, as she bobbed and pitched with the flood-tide, I used to be a
little giddy and rather qualmish, but at last I learned to look on
without my head reeling.  I began to fancy myself very much of a sailor,
a delusion considerably encouraged by a huge P. jacket and a sou\x92-wester,
both of which, though it was in the dog-days, Agnes insisted upon my
wearing, saying I looked more like Dirk Hatteraick, who, I understood,
was one of her favourite heroes in Walter Scott.  In fact, after she
suggested this, she and all her friends called me nothing but Dirk.

\x93Well, at last, after heaven knows how many excuses on my part, and
entreaties for delay, a day was appointed for our first excursion.  I
shall never forget that day--the entire night before it I did not close
my eyes; the skipper had told me in his confounded sea-jargon, that if
the wind was in one quarter we should have a short tossing sea; and if in
another a long rolling swell; and if in a third, a happy union of both
--in fact, he made it out that it could not possibly blow right, an
opinion I most heartily coincided in, and most devoutly did I pray for a
calm, that would not permit of our stirring from our moorings, and thus
mar our projected party of pleasure.  My prayer was unheard, but my hopes
rose on the other hand, for it blew tremendously during the entire night,
and although there was a lull towards morning, the sea, even in the
river, was considerable.

\x93I had just come to the conclusion that I was safe for this time, when
the steward poked his head into the room and said,

\x93\x91Mr. Brail wishes to know, sir, if he\x92ll bend the new mainsail to-day,
as it\x92s blowing rather fresh, and he thinks the spars light.\x92

\x93\x91Why the devil take him, he would not have us go out in a hurricane;
surely, Pipes, we could not take out ladies to-day?\x92

\x93\x91O, bless your heart, yes, sir; it blows a bit to be sure, but she\x92s a
good sea-boat, and we can run for Arklow or the Hook, if it comes
fresher.\x92

\x93\x91Oh, nonsense, there\x92s no pleasure in that; besides I\x92m sure they won\x92t
like it--the ladies won\x92t venture, you\x92ll see.\x92

\x93\x91Ay sir, but they\x92re all on board already: there\x92s eight ladies in the
cabin, and six on deck, and as many hampers of victuals and as much
crockery as if we were a-goin\x92 to Madeira.  Captain Grantham, sir, the
soldier officer, with the big beard, is a mixing punch in the grog-tub.\x92

\x93\x91From the consequences of this day I proclaim myself innocent,\x92 said I
with a solemn voice, as I drew on my duck trowsers, and prepared to set
out.

\x93\x91And the mainsail, sir,\x92 said the steward, not understanding what I
said.

\x93\x91I care not which,\x92 said I, doggedly; \x91act or part in this wilful
proceeding I\x92ll not take.\x92

\x93\x91Ay, ay, sir,\x92 said the stupid wretch, \x91then I\x92ll say you\x92re coming, and
he may stretch the large canvas; for the skipper says he likes a wet
jacket when he has gentlemen out.\x92

\x93Never did a victim put on a flame-coloured garment, the emblem of fate,
and set out on the march of death, with a heavier heart, than did I put
on my pilot-coat that morning to join my friends.

\x93My last hope deserted me as I saw the little vessel lying beside the
quay; for I continued to trust that in getting out from the dock some
accident or mischance might occur to spoil our sport.  But no; there she
lay, rolling and pitching in such a way that, even at anchor, they could
not stand on the deck without holding.  Amid the torrent of compliments
for the perfection of all my arrangements, and innumerable sweet things
on my taste in the decoration and fitting up of my cabin, I scarcely felt
myself afloat for some minutes, and we got under weigh amid a noise and
uproar that absolutely prevented the possibility of thought.

\x93Hitherto our destination had not been mentioned, and as all the party
appealed to Lady Agnes, I could not be less gallant, and joined them in
their request.

\x93\x91Well then, what do you think of Lambay?\x92 said she, looking at the same
moment towards the skipper.

\x93\x91We can make it, my lady,\x92 said the man, \x91but we\x92ll have a roughish sea
of it, for there\x92s a strong point of westward in the wind.\x92

\x93\x91Then don\x92t think of it,\x92 said I.  \x91We have come out for pleasure, not
to make our friends sick, or terrify them.  It does very well for us
men.\x92

\x93\x91There you are, Dirk, with your insolent sneers about women\x92s nerves and
female cowardice.  Now, nothing but Lambay will content me--what say you,
ladies?\x92

\x93A general reply of approval met this speech, and it was carried by
acclamation.

\x93\x91Lambay then be it,\x92 said I, with the voice of a man, who, entreating to
be shot, is informed that he cannot be afforded that pleasure, as his
sentence is to be hanged.  But I must hasten over these painful
recollections.  We dropped down the river, and soon left the light-house
and its long pier behind us, the mast bending like a whip, and the sea
boiling like barm over the lee gunwale.  Still the spirit of our party
only rose the lighter, and nothing but eulogies upon the men and sailing
of the craft resounded on all sides; the din and buz of the conversation
went on only more loudly and less restrictedly than if the party had been
on shore, and all, even myself, seemed happy, for up to this moment I had
not been sea-sick, yet certain pleasant sensations, that alternately
evinced themselves in my stomach and my head, warned me of what was in
store for me.  The word was now given to tack; I was in the act of
essaying a soft speech to Lady Agnes, when the confounded cry of \x91ready
about, starboard there, let go sheets and tacks, stand by, hawl.\x92  The
vessel plunged head-foremost into the boiling sea, which hissed on either
bow; the heavy boom swung over, carrying my hat along with it--and almost
my head too.  The rest of the party, possibly better informed than
myself, speedily changed their places to the opposite side of the boat,
while I remained holding off fast by the gunwale, till the sea rushing
over, what was now becoming the lee-side, carried me head over heels into
the shingle ballast in the waist.  Lord, how they did laugh!  Agnes, too,
who never before could get beyond a very faint smile, grew almost
hysterical at my performance.  As for me, I only wanted this to complete
my long threatened misfortune; sea sickness in all its most miserable
forms, set in upon me, and, ere half an hour, I lay upon that heap of
small stones, as indifferent to all round and about me as though I were
dead.  Oh, the long, dreary hours of that melancholy day; it seemed like
a year.  They tacked and tacked, they were beat and tacked again, the sea
washing over me, and the ruffianly sailors trampling upon me without the
slightest remorse, whenever they had any occasion to pass back or
forward.  From my long trance of suffering I was partly roused by the
steward shaking my shoulder, saying,

\x93\x91The gentlemen wish to know, sir, if you\x92d like summat to eat, as
they\x92re a goin\x92 to have a morsel; we are getting into slack water now.\x92

\x93\x91Where are we?\x92 I replied, in a sepulchral voice.

\x93\x91Off the Hook, sir; we have had a most splendid run, but I fear we\x92ll
catch it soon; there\x92s some dirty weather to the westward.\x92

\x93\x91God grant it,\x92 said I, piously and in a low tone.

\x93\x91Did you say you\x92d have a bit to eat. Sir?\x92

\x93\x91No!--eat!--am I a cannibal?--eat--go away--mark me, my good fellow,
I\x92ll pay you your wages, if ever we get ashore; you\x92ll never set another
foot aboard with me.\x92

\x93The man looked perfectly astounded as he moved away, and my thoughts
were soon engrossed by the proceedings near me.  The rattle of knives,
and the jingling of plates and glasses went on very briskly for some
time, accompanied by various pleasant observations of my guests, for such
I judged them, from the mirth which ever followed them.  At last I
thought I heard my name, or at least what they pleased to use as its
substitute, mentioned; I strained my ears to listen, and learnt that they
were planning to talk over the pretended intention to run for Cowes, and
see the regatta.  This they discussed then, for about twenty minutes, in
a very loud voice, purposely to see its effects upon me; but as I was now
aware of the trick, I gave no sign of any intelligence.

\x93\x91Poor Dirk,\x92 said Grantham; \x91I believe by this time he cares very little
which way her head lies; but here comes something better than all our
discussions.  Lady Agnes, sit here--Miss Pelham, here\x92s a dry cushion for
you--did you say a wing, Lady Mary?\x92

\x93Now began the crash and clatter of dinner; champagne corks popping,
glasses ringing, and all that peculiar admixture of fracas and fun, which
accompanies a scrambled meal.  How they did laugh, and eat, ay, and drink
too.  G\x92s punch seemed to have its success, for sick as I was, I could
perceive the voices of the men grow gradually louder, and discovered that
two gentlemen who had been remarkably timid in the morning, and scarcely
opened their lips, were now rather uproariously given, and one even
proposed to sing.

\x93If any man, thought I, were to look for an instant at the little scene
now enacting here, what a moral might he reap from it; talk of the base
ingratitude of the world, you cannot say too much of it.  Who would
suppose that it was my boat these people were assembled in; that it was
my champagne these people were drinking; that my venison and my pheasants
were feeding those lips, which rarely spoke, except to raise a jest at my
expense.  My chagrin increased my sickness and my sickness redoubled my
chagrin.

\x93\x91Mr. Brail,\x92 said I, in a low whisper, \x91Mr. Brail.\x92

\x93\x91Did you speak, sir?\x92 said he, with about as much surprise in his
manner, as though he had been addressed by a corpse.

\x93\x91Mr. Brail,\x92 said I, \x91is there any danger here?\x92

\x93\x91Lord love you, no, sir, she\x92s walking Spanish, and the sea going down;
we shall have lovely weather, and they\x92re all enjoying it, sir,--the
ladies.\x92

\x93\x91So I perceive,\x92 said I, with a groan; \x91so I perceive; but Mr. Brail,
could you do nothing--just to--to startle them a little, I mean for fun
only?  Just ship a heavy sea or two, I don\x92t care for a little damage,
Mr. Brail, and if it were to wash over the dinner-service, and all the
wine, I should not like it worse.\x92

\x93\x91Why, sir, you are getting quite funny, the sickness is going.\x92

\x93\x91No, Mr. Brail, worse than ever; my head is in two pieces, and my
stomach in the back of my mouth; but I should like you to do this--so
just manage it, will you, and there\x92s twenty pounds in my pocket-book,
you can have it; there now, won\x92t you oblige me, and hark ye, Mr. Brail
--if Captain Grantham were to be washed over by mere accident it cannot
be helped; accidents are always occurring in boating parties.  Go now,
you know what I mean.\x92

\x93\x91But sir,\x92 began he.

\x93\x91Well, then, Mr. Brail, you won\x92t--very well: now all I have to say is
this: that the moment I can find strength to do it, I\x92ll stave out a
plank; I\x92ll scuttle the vessel, that\x92s all; I have made up my mind, and
look to yourselves now.\x92

\x93Saying these words, I again threw myself upon the ballast, and, as the
gay chorus of a drinking song was wafted across me, prayed devoutly that
we might all go down to the bottom.  The song over, I heard a harsh,
gruff voice mixing with the more civilized tones of the party, and soon
perceived that Mr. Brail was recounting my proposal amid the most
uproarious shouts of laughter I ever listened to.  Then followed a number
of pleasant suggestions for my future management; one proposing to have
me tried for mutiny, and sentenced to a ducking over the side, another
that I should be tarred on my back, to which latter most humane notion,
the fair Agnes subscribed, averring that she was resolved upon my
deserving my sobriquet of Dirk Hatteraick.  My wrath was now the master
even of deadly sickness.  I got upon my knees, and having in vain tried
to reach my legs, I struggled aft.  In this posture did I reach the
quarter-deck.  What my intention precisely was in this excursion, I have
no notion of now, but I have some very vague idea, that I meant to
re-enact the curse of Kehama upon the whole party.  At last I mustered
strength to rise; but alas! I had scarcely reached the standing position,
when a tremendous heel of the boat to one side, threw me in the gunwale,
and before I was able to recover my balance, a second lurch pitched me
headlong into the sea.  I have, thank God, no further recollection of my
misfortunes.  When I again became conscious, I found myself wrapped up in
a pilot-coat, while my clothes were drying: the vessel was at anchor in
Wexford.  My attached friends had started for town with post-horses,
leaving me no less cured of love than aquatics.

\x93\x91The Delight\x92 passed over in a few days, to some more favoured son of
Neptune, and I hid my shame and my misfortunes by a year\x92s tour on the
continent.\x94

\x93Although I acknowledge,\x94 said Trevanion, \x93that hitherto I have reaped no
aid from Mr. O\x92Leary\x92s narrative, yet I think it is not without a moral.\x94

\x93Well, but,\x94 said I, \x93he has got another adventure to tell us; we have
quite time for it, so pray pass the wine and let us have it.\x94

\x93I have just finished the burgundy,\x94 said O\x92Leary, \x93and if you will ring
for another flask, I have no objection to let you hear the story of my
second love.\x94



CHAPTER XXXIII.

MR. O\x92LEARY\x92S SECOND LOVE.

\x93You may easily suppose,\x94 began Mr. O\x92Leary, \x93that the unhappy
termination of my first passion served as a shield to me for a long time
against my unfortunate tendencies towards the fair; and such was really
the case.  I never spoke to a young lady for three years after, without a
reeling in my head, so associated in my mind was love and sea-sickness.
However, at last what will not time do.  It was about four years from the
date of this adventure, when I became so, from oblivion of my former
failure, as again to tempt my fortune.  My present choice, in every way
unlike the last, was a gay, lively girl, of great animal spirits, and a
considerable turn for raillery, that spared no one; the members of her
own family were not even sacred in her eyes; and her father, a reverend
dean, as frequently figured among the ludicrous as his neighbours.

\x93The Evershams had been very old friends of a rich aunt of mine, who
never, by the by, had condescended to notice me till I made their
acquaintance; but no sooner had I done so, than she sent for me, and gave
me to understand that in the event of my succeeding to the hand of Fanny
Eversham, I should be her heir, and the possessor of about sixty thousand
pounds.  She did not stop here; but by canvassing the dean in my favour,
speedily put the matter on a most favourable footing, and in less than
two months I was received as the accepted suitor of the fair Fanny, then
one of the reigning belles of Dublin.

\x93They lived at this time about three miles from town, in a very pretty
country, where I used to pass all my mornings, and many of my evenings
too, in a state of happiness that I should have considered perfect, if
it were not for two unhappy blots--one, the taste of my betrothed for
laughing at her friends; another the diabolical propensity to talk
politics of my intended father-in-law--to the former I could submit; but
with the latter, submission only made bad worse; for he invariably drew
up as I receded, drily observing that with men who had no avowed
opinions, it was ill agreeing; or that, with persons who kept their
politics as a school-boy does his pocket-money, never to spend, and
always ready to change, it was unpleasant to dispute.  Such taunts as
these I submitted to as well as I might; secretly resolving, that as I
now knew the meaning of whig and tory, I\x92d contrive to spend my life,
after marriage, out of the worthy dean\x92s diocese.

\x93Time wore on, and at length, to my most pressing solicitations, it was
conceded that a day for our marriage should be appointed.  Not even the
unlucky termination of this my second love affair can deprive me of the
happy souvenir of the few weeks which were to intervene before our
destined union.

\x93The mornings were passed in ransacking all the shops where wedding
finery could be procured--laces, blondes, velvets, and satins, littered
every corner of the deanery--and there was scarcely a carriage in a
coach-maker\x92s yard in the city that I had not sat and jumped in, to try
the springs, by the special directions of Mrs. Eversham; who never ceased
to impress me with the awful responsibility I was about to take upon me,
in marrying so great a prize as her daughter--a feeling I found very
general among many of my friends at the Kildare-street club.

\x93Among the many indispensable purchases which I was to make, and about
which Fanny expressed herself more than commonly anxious, was a
saddle-horse for me.  She was a great horsewoman, and hated riding with
only a servant; and had given me to understand as much about half-a-dozen
times each day for the last five weeks.  How shall I acknowledge it
--equestrianism was never my forte.  I had all my life considerable
respect for the horse as an animal, pretty much as I dreaded a lion or a
tiger; but as to my intention of mounting upon the back of one, and
taking a ride, I should as soon have dreamed of taking an airing upon a
giraffe; and as to the thought of buying, feeding, and maintaining such a
beast at my own proper cost, I should just as soon have determined to
purchase a pillory or a ducking-stool, by way of amusing my leisure
hours.

\x93However, Fanny was obstinate--whether she suspected any thing or not I
cannot say--but nothing seemed to turn her from her purpose; and although
I pleaded a thousand things in delay, yet she each day grew more
impatient, and at last I saw that there was nothing for it but to submit.

\x93When I arrived at this last and bold resolve, I could not help feeling
that to possess a horse and not be able to mount him, was only deferring
the ridicule; and as I had so often expressed the difficulty I felt in
suiting myself as a cause of my delay, I could not possibly come forward
with any thing very objectionable, or I should be only the more laughed
at.  There was then but one course to take; a fortnight still intervened
before the day which was to make me happy, and I accordingly resolved to
take lessons in riding during the intervals, and by every endeavour in my
power become, if possible, able to pass muster on the saddle before my
bride.

\x93Poor old Lalouette understood but little of the urgency of the case,
when I requested his leave to take my lessons each morning at six
o\x92clock, for I dared not absent myself during the day without exciting
suspicion; and never, I will venture to assert, did knight-errant of old
strive harder for the hand of his lady-love than did I during that weary
fortnight, if a hippogriff had been the animal I bestrode, instead of
being, as it was, an old wall-eyed grey, I could not have felt more
misgivings at my temerity, or more proud of my achievement.  In the first
three days the unaccustomed exercise proved so severe, that when I
reached the deanery I could hardly move, and crossed the floor, pretty
much as a pair of compasses might be supposed to do if performing that
exploit.  Nothing, however, could equal the kindness of my poor dear
mother-in-law in embryo, and even the dean too.  Fanny, indeed, said
nothing; but I rather think she was disposed to giggle a little; but my
rheumatism, as it was called, was daily inquired after, and I was
compelled to take some infernal stuff in my port wine at dinner that
nearly made me sick at table.

\x93\x91I am sure you walk too much,\x92 said Fanny, with one of her knowing
looks.  \x91Papa, don\x92t you think he ought to ride; it would be much better
for him.\x92

\x93\x91I do, my dear,\x92 said the dean.  \x91But then you see he is so hard to be
pleased in a horse.  Your old hunting days have spoiled you; but you must
forget Melton and Grantham, and condescend to keep a hack.\x92

\x93I must have looked confoundedly foolish here, for Fanny never took her
eyes off me, and continued to laugh in her own wicked way.

\x93It was now about the ninth or tenth day of my purgatorial performances;
and certainly if there be any merit in fleshly mortifications, these
religious exercises of mine should stand my part hereafter.  A review had
been announced in the Phoenix-park, which Fanny had expressed herself
most desirous to witness; and as the dean would not permit her to go
without a chaperon, I had no means of escape, and promised to escort her.
No sooner had I made this rash pledge, than I hastened to my confidential
friend, Lalouette, and having imparted to him my entire secret, asked him
in a solemn and imposing manner, \x91Can I do it?\x92  The old man shook his
head dubiously, looked grave, and muttered at length, \x91Mosch depend on de
horse.\x92  \x91I know it--I know it--I feel it,\x92 said I eagerly--\x91then where
are we to find an animal that will carry me peaceably through this awful
day--I care not for his price?\x92

\x93\x91Votre affaire ne sera pas trop chere,\x92 said he.

\x93\x91Why.  How do you mean?\x92 said I.

\x93He then proceeded to inform me, that by a singularly fortunate chance,
there took place that day an auction of \x91cast horses,\x92 as they are
termed, which had been used in the horse police force; and that from long
riding, and training to stand fire, nothing could be more suitable than
one of these; being both easy to ride, and not given to start at noise.

\x93I could have almost hugged the old fellow for his happy suggestion, and
waited with impatience for three o\x92clock to come, when we repaired
together to Essex-bridge, at that time the place selected for these
sales.

\x93I was at first a little shocked at the look of the animals drawn up;
they were most miserably thin--most of them swelled in the legs--few
without sore backs--and not one eye, on an average, in every three; but
still they were all high steppers, and carried a great tail.  \x91There\x92s
your affaire,\x92 said the old Frenchman, as a long-legged fiddle-headed
beast was led out; turning out his forelegs so as to endanger the man who
walked beside him.

\x93\x91Yes, there\x92s blood for you, said Charley Dycer, seeing my eye fixed on
the wretched beast; \x91equal to fifteen stone with any foxhounds; safe in
all his paces, and warranted sound; except,\x92 added he, in a whisper, \x91a
slight spavin in both hind legs, ring gone, and a little touched in the
wind.\x92  Here the animal gave an approving cough.  \x91Will any gentleman say
fifty pounds to begin?\x92  But no gentleman did.  A hackney coachman,
however, said five, and the sale was opened; the beast trotting up and
down nearly over the bidders at every moment, and plunging on so that it
was impossible to know what was doing.

\x93\x91Five, ten--fifteen--six pounds--thank you, sir,--guineas\x92--\x91seven
pounds,\x92 said I, bidding against myself, not perceiving that I had spoken
last.  \x91Thank you, Mr. Moriarty,\x92 said Dycer, turning towards an
invisible purchaser supposed to be in the crowd.  \x91Thank you, sir, you\x92ll
not let a good one go that way.\x92  Every one here turned to find out the
very knowing gentleman; but he could no where be seen.

\x93Dycer resumed, \x91Seven ten for Mr. Moriarty.  Going for seven ten--a
cruel sacrifice--there\x92s action for you--playful beast.\x92  Here the devil
had stumbled and nearly killed a basket-woman with two children.

\x93\x91Eight,\x92 said I, with a loud voice.

\x93\x91Eight pounds, quite absurd,\x92 said Dycer, almost rudely; \x91a charger like
that for eight pounds--going for eight pounds--going--nothing above eight
pounds--no reserve, gentlemen, you are aware of that.  They are all as it
were, his majesty\x92s stud--no reserve whatever--last time, eight pounds
--gone.\x92

\x93Amid a very hearty cheer from the mob--God knows why--but a Dublin mob
always cheer--I returned, accompanied by a ragged fellow, leading my new
purchase after me with a bay halter.  \x91What is the meaning of those
letters,\x92 said I, pointing to a very conspicuous G.R. with sundry other
enigmatical signs, burned upon the animal\x92s hind quarter.

\x93\x91That\x92s to show he was a po-lice,\x92 said the fellow with a grin; \x91and
whin ye ride with ladies, ye must turn the decoy side.\x92

\x93The auspicious morning at last arrived; and strange to say that the
first waking thought was of the unlucky day that ushered in my yachting
excursion, four years before.  Why this was so, I cannot pretend to
guess; there was but little analogy in the circumstances, at least so far
as any thing had then gone.  \x91How is Marius?\x92 said I to my servant, as he
opened my shutters.  Here let me mention that a friend of the
Kildare-street club had suggested this name from the remarkably classic
character of my steed\x92s countenance; his nose, he assured me, was
perfectly Roman.

\x93\x91Marius is doing finely, sir, barring his cough, and the thrifle that
ails his hind legs.\x92

\x93\x91He\x92ll carry me quietly, Simon, eh?\x92

\x93\x91Quietly.  I\x92ll warrant he\x92ll carry you quietly, if that\x92s all.\x92

\x93Here was comfort.  Certainly Simon had lived forty years as pantry boy
with my mother, and knew a great deal about horses.  I dressed myself,
therefore, in high spirits; and if my pilot jacket and oil-skin cap in
former days had half persuaded me that I was born for marine
achievements, certainly my cords and tops, that morning, went far to
convince me that I must have once been a very keen sportsman somewhere,
without knowing it.  It was a delightful July day that I set out to join
my friends, who having recruited a large party, were to rendezvous at the
corner of Stephen\x92s-green; thither I proceeded in a certain ambling trot,
which I have often observed is a very favourite pace with timid horsemen,
and gentlemen of the medical profession.  I was hailed with a most hearty
welcome by a large party as I turned out of Grafton-street, among whom I
perceived several friends of Miss Eversham, and some young dragoon
officers, not of my acquaintance, but who appeared to know Fanny
intimately, and were laughing heartily with her as I rode up.

\x93I don\x92t know if other men have experienced what I am about to mention or
not; but certainly to me there is no more painful sensation than to find
yourself among a number of well-mounted, well-equipped people, while the
animal you yourself bestride seems only fit for the kennel. Every look
that is cast at your unlucky steed--every whispered observation about you
are so many thorns in your flesh, till at last you begin to feel that
your appearance is for very little else than the amusement and mirth of
the assembly; and every time you rise in your stirrups you excite a
laugh.

\x93\x91Where for mercy\x92s sake did you find that creature?\x92 said Fanny,
surveying Marius through her glass.

\x93\x91Oh, him, eh?  Why he is a handsome horse, if in condition--a charger
your know--that\x92s his style.\x92

\x93\x91Indeed,\x92 lisped a young lancer, \x91I should be devilish sorry to charge
or be charged with him.\x92  And here they all chuckled at this puppy\x92s
silly joke, and I drew up to repress further liberties.

\x93\x91Is he anything of a fencer?\x92 said a young country gentleman.

\x93\x91To judge from his near eye, I should say much more of a boxer,\x92 said
another.

\x93Here commenced a running fire of pleasantry at the expense of my poor
steed; which, not content with attacking his physical, extended to his
moral qualities.  An old gentleman near me observing, \x91that I ought not
to have mounted him at all, seeing he was so damned groggy;\x92 to which I
replied, by insinuating, that if others present were as free from the
influence of ardent spirits, society would not be a sufferer; an
observation that I flatter myself turned the mirth against the old
fellow, for they all laughed for a quarter of an hour after.

\x93Well, at last we set out in a brisk trot, and, placed near Fanny, I
speedily forgot all my annoyances in the prospect of figuring to
advantage before her.  When we reached College-green the leaders of the
cortege suddenly drew up, and we soon found that the entire street
opposite the Bank was filled with a dense mob of people, who appeared to
be swayed hither and thither, like some mighty beast, as the individuals
composing it were engaged in close conflict.  It was nothing more nor
less than one of those almost weekly rows, which then took place between
the students of the University and the town\x92s-people, and which rarely
ended without serious consequences.  The numbers of people pressing on to
the scene of action soon blocked up our retreat, and we found ourselves
most unwilling spectators of the conflict.  Political watch-words were
loudly shouted by each party; and at last the students, who appeared to
be yielding to superior numbers, called out for the intervention of the
police.  The aid was nearer than they expected; for at the same instant a
body of mounted policemen, whose high helmets rendered them sufficiently
conspicuous, were seen trotting at a sharp pace down Dame-street.  On
they came with drawn sabres, led by a well-looking gentlemanlike
personage in plain clothes, who dashed at once into the midst of the
fray, issuing his orders, and pointing out to his followers to secure the
ringleaders.  Up to this moment I had been a most patient, and rather
amused spectator, of what was doing.  Now, however, my part was to
commence, for at the word \x91charge,\x92 given in a harsh, deep voice by the
sergeant of the party, Marius, remembering his ancient instinct, pricked
up his ears, cocked his tail, flung up both his hind legs till they
nearly broke the Provost\x92s windows, and plunged into the thickest of the
fray like a devil incarnate.

\x93Self-preservation must be a strong instinct, for I well remember how
little pain it cost me to see the people tumbling and rolling before and
beneath me, while I continued to keep my seat.  It was only the moment
before and that immense mass were in man to man encounter; now all the
indignation of both parties seemed turned upon me; brick-bats were loudly
implored, and paving stones begged to throw at my devoted head; the wild
huntsman of the German romance never created half the terror, nor
one-tenth of the mischief that I did in less than fifteen minutes, for
the ill-starred beast continued twining and twisting like a serpent,
plunging and kicking the entire time, and occasionally biting too; all
which accomplishments I afterwards learned, however little in request in
civil life, are highly prized in the horse police.

\x93Every new order of the sergeant was followed in his own fashion by
Marius; who very soon contrived to concentrate in my unhappy person, all
the interest of about fifteen hundred people.

\x93\x91Secure that scoundrel,\x92 said the magistrate, pointing with his finger
towards me, as I rode over a respectable looking old lady, with a grey
muff.  \x91Secure him.  Cut him down.\x92

\x93\x91Ah, devil\x92s luck to him, if ye do,\x92 said a newsmonger with a broken
shin.

\x93On I went, however, and now, as the Fates would have it, instead of
bearing me out of further danger, the confounded brute dashed onwards to
where the magistrate was standing, surrounded by policemen.  I thought I
saw him change colour as I came on.  I suppose my own looks were none of
the pleasantest, for the worthy man liked them not.  Into the midst of
them we plunged, upsetting a corporal, horse and all, and appearing as if
bent upon reaching the alderman.

\x93\x91Cut him down for heaven\x92s sake.  Will nobody shoot him\x92 said he, with a
voice trembling with fear and anger.

\x93At these words a wretch lifted up his sabre, and made a cut at my head.
I stooped suddenly, and throwing myself from the saddle, seized the poor
alderman round the neck, and we both came rolling to the ground together.
So completely was he possessed with the notion that I meant to
assassinate him, that while I was endeavouring to extricate myself from
his grasp, he continued to beg his life in the most heartrending manner.

\x93My story is now soon told.  So effectually did they rescue the alderman
from his danger, that they left me insensible; and I only came to myself
some days after by finding myself in the dock in Green-street, charged
with an indictment of nineteen counts; the only word of truth is what lay
in the preamble, for the \x91devil inciting\x92 me only, would ever have made
me the owner of that infernal beast, the cause of all my misfortunes.  I
was so stupified from my hearing, that I know little of the course of the
proceedings.  My friends told me afterwards that I had a narrow escape
from transportation; but for the greatest influence exerted in my behalf,
I should certainly have passed the autumn in the agreeable recreation of
pounding oyster shells or carding wool; and it certainly must have gone
hard with me, for stupified as I was, I remember the sensation in court,
when the alderman made his appearance with a patch over his eye.  The
affecting admonition of the little judge--who, when passing sentence upon
me, adverted to the former respectability of my life, and the rank of my
relatives--actually made the galleries weep.

\x93Four months in Newgate, and a fine to the king, then rewarded my taste
for horse-exercise; and it\x92s no wonder if I prefer going on foot.

\x93As to Miss Eversham, the following short note from the dean concluded my
hopes in that quarter.

     \x93\x91Deanery, Wednesday morning.

     \x93\x91Sir,--After the very distressing publicity to which your late
     conduct has exposed you--the so open avowal of political opinion, at
     variance with those (I will say) of every gentleman--and the
     recorded sentence of a judge on the verdict of twelve of your
     countrymen--I should hope that you will not feel my present
     admonition necessary to inform you, that your visits at my house
     shall cease.

     \x93\x91The presents you made my daughter, when under our unfortunate
     ignorance of your real character, have been addressed to your hotel,
     and I am your most obedient, humble servant,

                                        \x93\x91Oliver Eversham.\x92


\x93Here ended my second affair \x91par amours;\x92 and I freely confess to you
that if I can only obtain a wife in a sea voyage, or a steeple chase, I
am likely to fulfill one great condition in modern advertising--\x91as
having no incumbrance, or any objection to travel.\x92\x94



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE DUEL.

Mr. O\x92Leary had scarcely concluded the narrative of his second adventure,
when the grey light of the breaking day was seen faintly struggling
through the half-closed curtains, and apprising us of the lateness of the
hour.

\x93I think we shall just have time for one finishing flask of Chambertin,\x94
 said O\x92Leary, as he emptied the bottle into his glass.

\x93I forbid the bans, for one,\x94 cried Trevanion.  \x93We have all had wine
enough, considering what we have before us this morning; and besides you
are not aware it is now past four o\x92clock.  So garcon--garcon, there--how
soundly the poor fellow sleeps--let us have some coffee, and then inquire
if a carriage is in waiting at the corner of the Rue Vivienne.\x94

The coffee made its appearance, very much, as it seemed, to Mr. O\x92Leary\x92s
chagrin, who, however, solaced himself by sundry petits verres, to
correct the coldness of the wine he had drank, and at length recovered
his good humour.

\x93Do you know, now,\x94 said he, after a short pause, in which we had all
kept silence, \x93I think what we are about to do, is the very ugliest way
of finishing a pleasant evening.  For my own part I like the wind up we
used to have in \x91Old Trinity\x92 formerly; when, after wringing off half a
dozen knockers, breaking the lamps at the post-office, and getting out
the fire engines of Werburgh\x92s parish, we beat a few watchmen, and went
peaceably to bed.\x94

\x93Well, not being an Irishman,\x94 said Trevanion, \x93I\x92m half disposed to
think that even our present purpose is nearly as favourable to life and
limb; but here comes my servant.  Well, John, is all arranged, and the
carriage ready?\x94

Having ascertained that the carriage was in waiting, and that the small
box--brass bound and Bramah-locked--reposed within, we paid our bill and
departed.  A cold, raw, misty-looking morning, with masses of dark
louring clouds overhead, and channels of dark and murky water beneath,
were the pleasant prospects which met us as we issued forth from the
Cafe.  The lamps, which hung suspended midway across the street, (we
speak of some years since,) creaked, with a low and plaintive sound, as
they swung backwards and forwards in the wind.  Not a footstep was heard
in the street--nothing but the heavy patter of the rain as it fell
ceaselessly upon the broad pavement.  It was, indeed, a most depressing
and dispiriting accompaniment to our intended excursion: and even
O\x92Leary, who seemed to have but slight sympathy with external influences,
felt it, for he spoke but little, and was scarcely ten minutes in the
carriage till he was sound asleep.  This was, I confess, a great relief
to me; for, however impressed I was, and to this hour am, with the many
sterling qualitites of my poor friend, yet, I acknowledge, that this was
not precisely the time I should have cared for their exercise, and would
have much preferred the companionship of a different order of person,
even though less long acquainted with him.  Trevanion was, of all others,
the most suitable for this purpose; and I felt no embarrassment in
opening my mind freely to him upon subjects which, but twenty-four
hours previous, I could not have imparted to a brother.

There is no such unlocker of the secrets of the heart as the possibly
near approach of death.  Indeed, I question if a great deal of the
bitterness the thought of it inspires, does not depend upon that very
circumstance.  The reflection that the long-treasured mystery of our
lives (and who is there without some such?) is about to become known, and
the secret of our inmost heart laid bare, is in itself depressing.  Not
one kind word, nor one remembrancing adieu, to those we are to leave for
ever, can be spoken or written, without calling up its own story of
half-forgotten griefs or, still worse, at such a moment, of happiness
never again to be partaken of.

\x93I cannot explain why,\x94 said I to Trevanion, \x93but although it has
unfortunately been pretty often my lot to have gone out on occasions
like this, both as principal and friend, yet never before did I feel so
completely depressed and low-spirited--and never, in fact, did so many
thoughts of regret arise before me for much of the past, and sorrow for
the chance of abandoning the future\x94--

\x93I can understand,\x94 said Trevanion, interrupting--\x93I have heard of your
prospect in the Callonby family, and certainly, with such hopes, I can
well conceive how little one would be disposed to brook the slightest
incident which could interfere with their accomplishment; but, now that
your cousin Guy\x92s pretensions in that quarter are at an end, I suppose,
from all I have heard, that there can be no great obstacle to yours.\x94

\x93Guy\x92s pretensions at an end!  For heaven\x92s sake, tell me all you know of
this affair--for up to this moment I am in utter ignorance of every thing
regarding his position among the Callonby family.\x94

\x93Unfortunately,\x94 replied Trevanion, \x93I know but little, but still that
little is authentic--Guy himself having imparted the secret to a very
intimate friend of mine.  It appears, then, that your cousin, having
heard that the Callonbys had been very civil to you in Ireland, and made
all manner of advances to you--had done so under the impression that you
were the other nephew of Sir Guy, and consequently the heir of a large
fortune--that is, Guy himself--and that they had never discovered the
mistake during the time they resided in Ireland, when they not only
permitted, but even encouraged the closest intimacy between you and Lady
Jane.  Is so far true?\x94

\x93I have long suspected it.  Indeed in no other way can I account for the
reception I met with from the Callonbys.  But is it possible that Lady
Jane could have lent herself to any thing so unworthy.\x94--

\x93Pray, hear me out,\x94 said Trevanion, who was evidently struck by the
despondency of my voice and manner.  \x93Guy having heard of their mistake,
and auguring well to himself from this evidence of their disposition, no
sooner heard of their arrival in Paris, than he came over here and got
introduced to them.  From that time he scarcely ever left their house,
except to accompany them into society, or to the theatres.  It is said
that with Lady Jane he made no progress.  Her manner, at the beginning
cold and formal, became daily more so; until, at last, he was half
disposed to abandon the pursuit--in which, by the by, he has since
confessed, monied views entered more than any affection for the lady
--when the thought struck him to benefit by what he supposed at first
to be the great bar to his success.  He suddenly pretended to be only
desirous of intimacy with Lady Jane, from having heard so much of her
from you--affected to be greatly in your confidence--and, in fact,
assumed the character of a friend cognizant of all your feelings and
hopes, and ardently desiring, by every means in his power, to advance
your views--\x94

\x93And was it thus he succeeded,\x94 I broke in.

\x93\x91Twas thus he endeavoured to succeed,\x94 said Trevanion.

\x93Ah, with what success I but too well know\x94 said I.  \x93My uncle himself
showed me a letter from Guy, in which he absolutely speaks of the affair
as settled, and talks of Lady Jane as about to be his wife.\x94

\x93That may be all quite true; but a little consideration of Guy\x92s tactics
will show what he intended; for I find that he induced your uncle, by
some representations of his, to make the most handsome proposals, with
regard to the marriage, to the Callonbys; and that, to make the story
short, nothing but the decided refusal of Lady Jane, who at length saw
through his entire game prevented the match.\x94

\x93And then she did refuse him,\x94 said I, with ill-repressed exultation.

\x93Of that there can be no doubt; for independently of all the gossip and
quizzing upon the subject, to which Guy was exposed in the coteries, he
made little secret of it himself--openly avowing that he did not consider
a repulse a defeat, and that he resolved to sustain the siege as
vigorously as ever.\x94

However interested I felt in all Trevanion was telling me, I could not
help falling into a train of thinking on my first acquaintance with the
Callonbys.  There are, perhaps, but few things more humiliating than the
knowledge that any attention or consideration we have met with, has been
paid us in mistake for another; and in the very proportion that they were
prized before, are they detested when the truth is known to us.

To all the depressing influences these thoughts suggested, came the
healing balm that Lady Jane was true to me--that she, at least, however
others might be biassed by worldly considerations--that she cared for me
--for myself alone.  My reader (alas! for my character for judgment)
knows upon how little I founded the conviction; but I have often, in
these Confessions, avowed my failing, par excellence, to be a great taste
for self-deception; and here was a capital occasion for its indulgence.

\x93We shall have abundant time to discuss this later on,\x94 said Trevanion,
laying his hand upon my shoulder to rouse my wandering attention--\x93for
now, I perceive, we have only eight minutes to spare.\x94

As he spoke, a dragoon officer, in an undress, rode up to the window of
the carriage, and looking steadily at our party for a few seconds, asked
if we were \x93Messieurs les Anglais;\x94 and, almost without waiting for
reply, added, \x93You had better not go any farther in your carriage, for the
next turn of the road will bring you in sight of the village.\x94

We accordingly stopped the driver, and having (with) some difficulty
aroused O\x92Leary, got out upon the road.  The militaire here gave his
horse to a groom, and proceeded to guide us through a corn-field by a
narrow path, with whose windings and crossings he appeared quite
conversant.  We at length reached the brow of a little hill, from which
an extended view of the country lay before us, showing the Seine winding
its tranquil course between the richly tilled fields, dotted with many a
pretty cottage.  Turning abruptly from this point, our guide led us, by a
narrow and steep path, into a little glen, planted with poplar and
willows.  A small stream ran through this, and by the noise we soon
detected that a mill was not far distant, which another turning brought
us at once in front of.

And here I cannot help dwelling upon the \x93tableau\x94 which met our view.
In the porch of the little rural mill sat two gentlemen, one of whom I
immediately recognised as the person who had waited upon me, and the
other I rightly conjectured to be my adversary.  Before them stood a
small table, covered with a spotless napkin, upon which a breakfast
equipage was spread--a most inviting melon and a long, slender-necked
bottle, reposing in a little ice-pail, forming part of the \x93materiel.\x94
 My opponent was cooly enjoying his cigar--a half-finished cup of coffee
lay beside him--his friend was occupied in examining the caps of the
duelling pistols, which were placed upon a chair.  No sooner had we
turned the angle which brought us in view, than they both rose, and,
taking off their hats with much courtesy, bade us good morning.

\x93May I offer you a cup of coffee,\x94 said Monsieur Derigny to me, as I came
up, at the same time filling it out, and pushing over a little flask of
Cogniac towards me.

A look from Trevanion decided my acceptance of the proferred civility,
and I seated myself in the chair beside the baron.  Trevanion meanwhile
had engaged my adversary in conversation along with the stranger, who had
been our guide, leaving O\x92Leary alone unoccupied, which, however, he did
not long remain; for, although uninvited by the others, he seized a knife
and fork, and commenced a vigorous attack upon a partridge pie near him;
and, with equal absence of ceremony, uncorked the champaign and filled
out a foaming goblet, nearly one-third of the whole bottle, adding--

\x93I think, Mr. Lorrequer, there\x92s nothing like showing them that we are
just as cool and unconcerned as themselves.\x94

If I might judge from the looks of the party, a happier mode of
convincing them of our \x93free-and-easy\x94 feelings could not possibly have
been discovered.  From any mortification this proceeding might have
caused me, I was speedily relieved by Trevanion calling O\x92Leary to one
side, while he explained to him that he must nominally act as second on
the ground, as Trevanion, being a resident in Paris, might become liable
to a prosecution, should any thing serious arise, while O\x92Leary, as a
mere passer through, could cross the frontier into Germany, and avoid all
trouble.

O\x92Leary at once acceded--perhaps the more readily because he expected to
be allowed to return to his breakfast--but in this he soon found himself
mistaken, for the whole party now rose, and preceded by the baron,
followed the course of the little stream.

After about five minutes\x92 walking, we found ourselves at the outlet of
the glen, which was formed by a large stone quarry, making a species of
amphitheatre, with lofty walls of rugged granite, rising thirty or forty
feet on either side of us.  The ground was smooth and level as a boarded
floor, and certainly to amateurs in these sort of matters, presented a
most perfect spot for a \x93meeting.\x94

The stranger who had just joined us, could not help remarking our looks
of satisfaction at the choice of ground, and observed to me--

\x93This is not the first affair that this little spot has witnessed; and
the moulinet of St. Cloud is, I think, the very best \x91meet\x92 about Paris.\x94

Trevanion who, during these few minutes, had been engaged with Derigny,
now drew me aside.

\x93Well, Lorrequer, have you any recollection now of having seen your
opponent before? or can you make a guess at the source of all this?\x94

\x93Never till this instant,\x94 said I, \x93have I beheld him,\x94 as I looked
towards the tall, stoutly-built figure of my adversary, who was very
leisurely detaching a cordon from his tightly fitting frock, doubtless to
prevent its attracting my aim.

\x93Well, never mind, I shall manage every thing properly.  What can you do
with the small sword, for they have rapiers at the mill?\x94

\x93Nothing whatever; I have not fenced since I was a boy.\x94

\x93N\x92importe--then we\x92ll fight at a barriere.  I know they\x92re not prepared
for that from Englishmen; so just step on one side now, and leave me to
talk it over.\x94

As the limited nature of the ground did not permit me to retire to a
distance, I became involuntarily aware of a dialogue, which even the
seriousness of the moment could scarcely keep me from laughing at
outright.

It was necessary, for the sake of avoiding any possible legal difficulty
in the result, that O\x92Leary should give his assent to every step of the
arrangement; and being totally ignorant of French, Trevanion had not only
to translate for him, but also to render in reply O\x92Leary\x92s own comments
or objections to the propositions of the others.

\x93Then it is agreed--we fight at a barriere,\x94 said the Captain Derigny.

\x93What\x92s that, Trevanion?\x94

\x93We have agreed to place them at a barriere,\x94 replied Trevanion.

\x93That\x92s strange,\x94 muttered O\x92Leary to himself, who, knowing that the word
meant a \x93turnpike,\x94 never supposed it had any other signification.

\x93Vingt quatre pas, n\x92est pas,\x94 said Derigny.

\x93Too far,\x94 interposed Trevanion.

\x93What does he say now?\x94 asked O\x92Leary.

\x93Twenty-four paces for the distance.\x94

\x93Twenty-four of my teeth he means,\x94 said O\x92Leary, snapping his fingers.
\x93What does he think of the length of Sackville-street?  Ask him that,
will ye?\x94

\x93What says Monsieur?\x94 said the Frenchman.

\x93He thinks the distance much too great.\x94

\x93He may be mistaken,\x94 said the Captain, half sneeringly.  \x93My friend is
\x91de la premiere force.\x92\x94

\x93That must be something impudent, from your looks, Mr. Trevanion.  Isn\x92t
it a thousand pities I can\x92t speak French?\x94

\x93What say you, then, to twelve paces?  Fire together, and two shots each,
if the first fire be inconclusive,\x94 said Trevanion.

\x93And if necessary,\x94 added the Frenchman, carelessly, \x93conclude with
these\x94--touching the swords with his foot as he spoke.

\x93The choice of the weapon lies with us, I opine,\x94 replied Trevanion.
\x93We have already named pistols, and by them we shall decide this matter.\x94

It was at length, after innumerable objections, agreed upon that we
should be placed back to back, and at a word given each walk forward to a
certain distance marked out by a stone, where we were to halt, and at the
signal, \x93une,\x94 \x93deux,\x94 turn round and fire.

This, which is essentially a French invention in duelling, was perfectly
new to me, but by no means to Trevanion, who was fully aware of the
immense consequence of not giving even a momentary opportunity for aim to
my antagonist; and in this mode of firing the most practised and deadly
shot is liable to err--particularly if the signal be given quickly.

While Trevanion and the Captain were measuring out the ground, a little
circumstance which was enacted near me was certainly not over calculated
to strengthen my nerve.  The stranger who had led us to the ground had
begun to examine the pistols, and finding that one of them was loaded,
turned towards my adversary, saying, \x93De Haultpenne, you have forgotten
to draw the charge.  Come let us see what vein you are in.\x94  At the same
time, drawing off his large cavalry glove, he handed the pistol to his
friend.

\x93A double Napoleon you don\x92t hit the thumb.\x94

\x93Done,\x94 said the other, adjusting the weapon in his hand.

The action was scarcely performed, when the bettor flung the glove into
the air with all his force.  My opponent raised his pistol, waited for an
instant, till the glove, having attained its greatest height, turned to
fall again.  Then click went the trigger--the glove turned round and
round half-a-dozen times, and fell about twenty yards off, and the thumb
was found cut clearly off at the juncture with the hand.

This--which did not occupy half as long as I have spent in recounting it
--was certainly a pleasant introduction to standing at fifteen yards from
the principal actor; and I should doubtless have felt it in all its
force, had not my attention been drawn off by the ludicrous expression of
grief in O\x92Leary\x92s countenance, who evidently regarded me as already
defunct.

\x93Now, Lorrequer, we are ready,\x94 said Trevanion, coming forward; and then,
lowering his voice, added, \x93All is in your favour; I have won the \x91word,\x92
which I shall give the moment you halt.  So turn and fire at once: be
sure not to go too far round in the turn--that is the invariable error in
this mode of firing; only no hurry--be calm.\x94

\x93Now, Messieurs,\x94 said Derigny, as he approached with his friend leaning
upon his arm, and placed him in the spot allotted to him.  Trevanion then
took my arm, and placed me back to back to my antagonist.  As I took up
my ground, it so chanced that my adversary\x92s spur slightly grazed me,
upon which he immediately turned round, and, with the most engaging
smile, begged a \x93thousand pardons,\x94 and hoped I was not hurt.

O\x92Leary, who saw the incident, and guessed the action aright, called out:

\x93Oh, the cold-blooded villain; the devil a chance for you, Mr.
Lorrequer.\x94

\x93Messieurs, your pistols,\x94 said Le Capitaine la Garde, who, as he handed
the weapons, and repeated once more the conditions of the combat, gave
the word to march.

I now walked slowly forward to the place marked out by the stone; but it
seemed that I must have been in advance of my opponent, for I remember
some seconds elapsed before Trevanion coughed slightly, and then with a
clear full voice called out \x93Une,\x94 \x93Deux.\x94  I had scarcely turned myself
half round, when my right arm was suddenly lifted up, as if by a galvanic
shock.  My pistol jerked upwards, and exploded the same moment, and then
dropped powerlessly from my hand, which I now felt was covered with warm
blood from a wound near the elbow.  From the acute but momentary pang
this gave me, my attention was soon called off; for scarcely had my arm
been struck, when a loud clattering noise to my left induced me to turn,
and then, to my astonishment, I saw my friend O\x92Leary about twelve feet
from the ground, hanging on by some ash twigs that grew from the clefts
of the granite.  Fragments of broken rock were falling around him, and
his own position momentarily threatened a downfall.  He was screaming
with all his might; but what he said was entirely lost in the shouts of
laughter of Trevanion and the Frenchmen, who could scarcely stand with
the immoderate exuberance of their mirth.

I had not time to run to his aid--which, although wounded, I should have
done--when the branch he clung to, slowly yielded with his weight, and
the round, plump figure of my poor friend rolled over the little cleft of
rock, and, after a few faint struggles, came tumbling heavily down, and
at last lay peaceably in the deep heather at the bottom--his cries the
whole time being loud enough to rise even above the vociferous laughter
of the others.

I now ran forward, as did Trevanion, when O\x92Leary, turning his eyes
towards me, said, in the most piteous manner--

\x93Mr. Lorrequer, I forgive you--here is my hand--bad luck to their French
way of fighting, that\x92s all--it\x92s only good for killing one\x92s friend.
I thought I was safe up there, come what might.\x94

\x93My dear O\x92Leary,\x94 said I, in an agony, which prevented my minding the
laughing faces around me, \x93surely you don\x92t mean to say that I have
wounded you?\x94

\x93No, dear, not wounded, only killed me outright--through the brain it
must be, from the torture I\x92m suffering.\x94

The shout with which this speech was received, sufficiently aroused me;
while Trevanion, with a voice nearly choked with laughter, said--

\x93Why, Lorrequer, did you not see that your pistol, on being struck, threw
your ball high up on the quarry; fortunately, however, about a foot and a
half above Mr. O\x92Leary\x92s head, whose most serious wounds are his
scratched hands and bruised bones from his tumble.\x94

This explanation, which was perfectly satisfactory to me, was by no means
so consoling to poor O\x92Leary, who lay quite unconscious to all around,
moaning in the most melancholy manner.  Some of the blood, which
continued to flow fast from my wound, having dropped upon his face,
roused him a little--but only to increase his lamentation for his own
destiny, which he believed was fast accomplishing.

\x93Through the skull--clean through the skull--and preserving my senses to
the last!  Mr. Lorrequer, stoop down--it is a dying man asks you--don\x92t
refuse me a last request.  There\x92s neither luck nor grace, honor nor
glory in such a way of fighting--so just promise me you\x92ll shoot that
grinning baboon there, when he\x92s going off the ground, since it\x92s the
fashion to fire at a man with his back to you.  Bring him down, and I\x92ll
die easy.\x94

And with these words he closed his eyes, and straightened out his legs
--stretched his arm at either side, and arranged himself as much corpse
fashion as the circumstances of the ground would permit--while I now
freely participated in the mirth of the others, which, loud and
boisterous as it was, never reached the ears of O\x92Leary.

My arm had now become so painful, that I was obliged to ask Trevanion to
assist me in getting off my coat.  The surprise of the Frenchmen on
learning that I was wounded was very considerable--O\x92Leary\x92s catastrophe
having exclusively engaged all attention.  My arm was now examined, when
it was discovered that the ball had passed through from one side to the
other, without apparently touching the bone; the bullet and the portion
of my coat carried in by it both lay in my sleeve.  The only serious
consequence to be apprehended was the wound of the blood-vessel, which
continued to pour forth blood unceasingly, and I was just surgeon enough
to guess that an artery had been cut.

Trevanion bound his handkerchief tightly across the wound, and assisted
me to the high road, which, so sudden was the loss of blood, I reached
with difficulty.  During all these proceedings, nothing could be possibly
more kind and considerate than the conduct of our opponents.  All the
farouche and swaggering air which they had deemed the \x93rigueur\x94 before,
at once fled, and in its place we found the most gentlemanlike attention
and true politeness.

As soon as I was enabled to speak upon the matter, I begged Trevanion to
look to poor O\x92Leary, who still lay upon the ground in a state of perfect
unconsciousness.  Captain Derigny, on hearing my wish, at once returned
to the quarry, and, with the greatest difficulty, persuaded my friend to
rise and endeavour to walk, which at last he did attempt, calling him to
bear witness that it perhaps was the only case on record where a man with
a bullet in his brain had made such an exertion.

With a view to my comfort and quiet, they put him into the cab of Le
Baron; and, having undertaken to send Dupuytrien to me immediately on my
reaching Paris, took their leave, and Trevanion and I set out homeward.

Not all my exhaustion and debility--nor even the acute pain I was
suffering, could prevent my laughing at O\x92Leary\x92s adventure; and it
required all Trevanion\x92s prudence to prevent my indulging too far in my
recollection of it.

When we reached Meurice\x92s, I found Dupuytrien in waiting, who immediately
pronounced the main artery of the limb as wounded; and almost as
instantaneously proceeded to pass a ligature round it.  This painful
business being concluded, I was placed upon a sofa, and being plentifully
supplied with lemonade, and enjoined to keep quiet, left to my own
meditations, such as they were, till evening--Trevanion having taken upon
him to apologize for our absence at Mrs. Bingham\x92s dejeune, and O\x92Leary
being fast asleep in his own apartments.



CHAPTER XXXV.

EARLY RECOLLECTIONS--A FIRST LOVE.

I know of no sensations so very nearly alike, as those felt on awaking
after very sudden and profuse loss of blood, and those resulting from a
large dose of opium.  The dizziness, the confusion, and the abstraction
at first, gradually yielding, as the senses became clearer, to a vague
and indistinct consciousness; then the strange mistiness, in which fact
and fiction are wrapped up--the confounding of persons, and places, and
times, not so as to embarrass and annoy--for the very debility you feel
subdues all irritation--but rather to present a panoramic picture of odd
and incongruous events more pleasing than otherwise.

Of the circumstances by which I was thus brought to a sick couch, I had
not even the most vague recollection--the faces and the dress of all
those I had lately seen were vividly before me; but how, and for what
purpose I knew not.  Something in their kindness and attention had left
an agreeable impression upon my mind, and without being able, or even
attempting to trace it, I felt happy in the thought.  While thus the
\x93hour before\x94 was dim and indistinct, the events of years past were
vividly and brightly pictured before me; and strange, too, the more
remote the period, the more did it seem palpable and present to my
imagination.  For so it is, there is in memory a species of mental
long-sightedness, which, though blind to the object close beside you, can
reach the blue mountains and the starry skies, which lie full many a
league away.  Is this a malady? or is it rather a providential gift to
alleviate the tedious hours of the sick bed, and cheer the lonely
sufferer, whose thoughts are his only realm?

My school-boy days, in all their holiday excitement; the bank where I had
culled the earliest cowslips of the year; the clear but rapid stream,
where days long I have watched the speckled trout, as they swam
peacefully beneath, or shook their bright fins in the gay sunshine; the
gorgeous dragon-fly that played above the water, and dipped his bright
wings in its ripple--they were all before me.  And then came the thought
of school itself, with its little world of boyish cares and emulations;
the early imbibed passion for success; the ardent longing for
superiority; the high and swelling feeling of the heart, as home drew
near, to think that I had gained the wished for prize--the object of many
an hour\x92s toil--the thought of many a long night\x92s dream; my father\x92s
smile; my mother\x92s kiss!  Oh! what a very world of tender memory that one
thought suggests; for what are all our later successes in life--how
bright soever our fortune be--compared with the early triumphs of our
infancy?  Where, among the jealous rivalry of some, the cold and
half-wrung praise of others, the selfish and unsympathising regard of all,
shall we find any thing to repay us for the swelling extacy of our young
hearts, as those who have cradled and loved us grow proud in our
successes?  For myself, a life that has failed in every prestige of those
that prophesied favourably--years that have followed on each other only
to blight the promise that kind and well-wishing friends foretold--leave
but little to dwell upon, that can be reckoned as success.  And yet, some
moments I have had, which half seemed to realize my early dream of
ambition, and rouse my spirit within me; but what were they all compared
to my boyish glories? what the passing excitement one\x92s own heart
inspires in the lonely and selfish solitude, when compared with that
little world of sympathy and love our early home teemed with, as, proud
in some trifling distinction, we fell into a mother\x92s arms, and heard our
father\x92s \x93God bless you, boy?\x94  No, no; the world has no requital for
this.  It is like the bright day-spring, which, as its glories gild the
east, display before us a whole world of beauty and promise--blighted
hopes have not withered, false friendships have not scathed, cold,
selfish interest has not yet hardened our hearts, or dried up our
affections, and we are indeed happy; but equally like the burst of
morning is it fleeting and short-lived; and equally so, too, does it pass
away, never, never to return.

From thoughts like these my mind wandered on to more advanced years,
when, emerging from very boyhood, I half believed myself a man, and was
fully convinced I was in love.

Perhaps, after all, for the time it lasted--ten days, I think--it was the
most sincere passion I ever felt.  I had been spending some weeks at a
small watering-place in Wales with some relatives of my mother.  There
were, as might be supposed, but few \x93distractions\x94 in such a place, save
the scenery, and an occasional day\x92s fishing in the little river of
Dolgelly, which ran near.  In all these little rambles which the younger
portion of the family made together, frequent mention was ever being made
of a visit from a very dear cousin, and to which all looked forward with
the greatest eagerness--the elder ones of the party with a certain air of
quiet pleasure, as though they knew more than they said, and the younger
with all the childish exuberance of youthful delight.  Clara Mourtray
seemed to be, from all I was hourly hearing, the very paragon and pattern
of every thing.  If any one was praised for beauty, Clara was immediately
pronounced much prettier--did any one sing, Clara\x92s voice and taste were
far superior.  In our homeward walk, should the shadows of the dark hills
fall with a picturesque effect upon the blue lake, some one was sure to
say, \x93Oh! how Clara would like to sketch that.\x94  In short, there was no
charm nor accomplishment ever the gift of woman, that Clara did not
possess; or, what amounted pretty much to the same thing, that my
relatives did not implicitly give her credit for.  The constantly
recurring praises of the same person affect us always differently as we
go on in life.  In youth the prevailing sentiment is an ardent desire to
see the prodigy of whom we have heard so much--in after years, heartily
to detest what hourly hurts our self-love by comparisons.  We would take
any steps to avoid meeting what we have inwardly decreed to be a \x93bore.\x94
 The former was my course; and though my curiosity was certainly very
great, I had made up my mind to as great a disappointment, and half
wished for the longed arrival as a means of criticising what they could
see no fault in.

The wished-for evening at length came, and we all set out upon a walk to
meet the carriage which was to bring the bien aime Clara among us.  We
had not walked above a mile when the eager eye of the foremost detected a
cloud of dust upon the road at some distance; and, after a few minutes
more, four posters were seen coming along at a tremendous rate.  The next
moment she was making the tour of about a dozen uncles, aunts, cousins,
and cousines, none of whom, it appeared to me, felt any peculiar desire
to surrender the hearty embrace to the next of kin in succession.  At
last she came to me, when, perhaps, in the confusion of the moment, not
exactly remembering whether or not she had seen me before, she stood for
a moment silent--a deep blush mantling her lovely cheek--masses of waving
brown hair disordered and floating upon her shoulders--her large and
liquid blue eyes beaming upon me.  One look was enough.  I was deeply
--irretrievably in love.

\x93Our cousin Harry--Harry Lorrequer--wild Harry, as we used to call him,
Clara,\x94 said one of the girls introducing me.

She held out her hand, and said something with a smile.  What, I know
not--nor can I tell how I replied; but something absurd it must have
been, for they all laughed heartily, and the worthy papa himself tapped
my shoulder jestingly, adding,

\x93Never mind, Harry--you will do better one day, or I am much mistaken in
you.\x94

Whether I was conscious that I had behaved foolishly or not, I cannot
well say; but the whole of that night I thought over plans innumerable
how I should succeed in putting myself forward before \x93Cousin Clara,\x94 and
vindicating myself against any imputation of schoolboy mannerisms that my
first appearance might have caused.

The next day we remained at home.  Clara was too much fatigued to walk
out, and none of us would leave her.  What a day of happiness that was!
I knew something of music, and could sing a second.  Clara was delighted
at this, for the others had not cultivated singing much.  We therefore
spent the whole morning in this way.  Then she produced her sketch-book,
and I brought out mine, and we had a mutual interchange of prisoners.
What cutting out of leaves and detaching of rice-paper landscapes!  The
she came out upon the lawn to see my pony leap, and promised to ride him
the following day.  She patted the greyhounds, and said Gipsy, which was
mine, was the prettiest.  In a word, before night fell Clara had won my
heart in its every fibre, and I went to my room the very happiest of
mortals.

I need not chronicle my next three days--to me the most glorious \x93trois
jours\x94 of my life.  Clara had evidently singled me out and preferred me
to all the rest.  It was beside me she rode--upon my arm she leaned in
walking--and, to comble me with delight unutterable, I overheard her say
to my uncle, \x93Oh, I doat upon poor Harry!  And it is so pleasant, for I\x92m
sure Mortimer will be so jealous.\x94

\x93And who is Mortimer,\x94 thought I; \x93he is a new character in the piece, of
whom we have seen nothing.\x94

I was not long in doubt upon this head, for that very day, at dinner, the
identical Mortimer presented himself.  He was a fine, dashing-looking,
soldier-like fellow, of about thirty-five, and with a heavy moustache,
and a bronzed cheek--rather grave in his manner, but still perfectly
good-natured, and when he smiled showing a most handsome set of regular
teeth.  Clara seemed less pleased (I thought) at his coming than the
others, and took pleasure in tormenting him by a thousand pettish and
frivolous ways, which I was sorry for, as I thought he did not like it;
and used to look half chidingly at her from time to time, but without any
effect, for she just went on as before, and generally ended by taking my
arm and saying, \x93Come away, Harry; you always are kind, and never look
sulky.  I can agree with you.\x94  These were delightful words for me to
listen to, but I could not hear them without feeling for him, who
evidently was pained by Clara\x92s avowed preference for me; and whose
years--for I thought thirty-five at that time a little verging upon the
patriarchal--entitled him to more respect.

\x93Well,\x94 thought I, one evening, as this game had been carried rather
farther than usual, \x93I hope she is content now, for certainly Mortimer is
jealous;\x94 and the result proved it, for the whole of the following day he
absented himself, and never came back till late in the evening.  He had
been, I found, from a chance observation I overheard, at the bishop\x92s
palace, and the bishop himself, I learned, was to breakfast with us in
the morning.

\x93Harry, I have a commission for you,\x94 said Clara.  \x93You must get up
very early to-morrow, and climb the Cader mountain, and bring me a grand
bouquet of the blue and purple heath that I liked so much the last time
I was there.  Mind very early, for I intend to surprise the bishop
to-morrow with my taste in a nosegay.\x94

The sun had scarcely risen as I sprang from my bed, and started upon my
errand.  Oh! the glorious beauty of that morning\x92s walk.  As I climbed
the mountain, the deep mists lay upon all around, and except the path I
was treading, nothing was visible; but before I reached the top, the
heavy masses of vapour were yielding to the influence of the sun; and as
they rolled from the valleys up the mountain sides, were every instant
opening new glens and ravines beneath me--bright in all their verdure,
and speckled with sheep, whose tingling bells reached me even where I
stood.

I counted above twenty lakes at different levels, below me; some
brilliant, and shining like polished mirrors; others not less beautiful,
dark and solemn with some mighty mountain shadow.  As I looked landward,
the mountains reared their huge crests, one above the other, to the
farthest any eye could reach.  Towards the opposite side, the calm and
tranquil sea lay beneath me, bathed in the yellow gold of a rising sun; a
few ships were peaceably lying at anchor in the bay; and the only thing
in motion was a row-boat, the heavy monotonous stroke of whose oars rose
in the stillness of the morning air.  Not a single habitation of man
could I descry, nor any vestige of a human being, except that mass of
something upon the rock far down beneath be one, and I think it is, for I
see the sheep-dog ever returning again and again to the same spot.

My bouquet was gathered; the gentian of the Alps, which is found here,
also contributing its evidence to show where I had been to seek it, and I
turned home.

The family were at breakfast as I entered; at least so the servants said,
for I only remembered then that the bishop was our guest, and that I
could not present myself without some slight attention to my dress.  I
hastened to my room, and scarcely had I finished, when one of my cousins,
a little girl of eight years, came to the door and said,

\x93Harry, come down; Clara wants you.\x94

I rushed down stairs, and as I entered the breakfast parlour, stood still
with surprise.  The ladies were all dressed in white, and even my little
cousin wore a gala costume that amazed me.

\x93My bouquet, Harry; I hope you have not forgotten it,\x94 said Clara, as I
approached.

I presented it at once, when she gaily and coquettishly held out her hand
for me to kiss.  This I did, my blood rushing to my face and temples the
while, and almost depriving me of consciousness.

\x93Well, Clara, I am surprised at you,\x94 said Mortimer.  \x93How can you treat
the poor boy so?\x94

I grew deadly pale at these words, and, turning round, looked at the
speaker full in the face.  Poor fellow, thought I, he is jealous, and I
am really grieved for him; and turned again to Clara.

\x93Here it is--oh! how handsome, papa,\x94 said one of the younger children,
running eagerly to the window, as a very pretty open carriage with four
horses drew up before the house.

\x93The bishop has taste,\x94 I murmured to myself, scarcely deigning to give a
second look at the equipage.

Clara now left the room, but speedily returned--her dress changed, and
shawled as if for a walk.  What could all this mean?--and the whispering,
too, what is all that?--and why are they all so sad?--Clara has been
weeping.

\x93God bless you, my child--good by,\x94 said my aunt, as she folded her in
her arms for the third time.

\x93Good by, good by,\x94 I heard on every side.  At length, approaching me,
Clara took my hand and said--

\x93My poor Harry, so we are going to part.  I am going to Italy.\x94

\x93To Italy, Clara?  Oh! no--say no.  Italy!  I shall never see you again.\x94

\x93Won\x92t you wear this ring for me, Harry?  It is an old favourite of
yours--and when we meet again\x94--

\x93Oh! dearest Clara,\x94 I said, \x93do not speak thus.\x94

\x93Good by, my poor boy, good by,\x94 said Clara hurriedly; and, rushing
out of the room, she was lifted by Mortimer into the carriage, who,
immediately jumping in after her, the whip cracked, the horses clattered,
and all was out of sight in a second.

\x93Why is she gone with him?\x94 said I, reproachfully, turning towards my
aunt.

\x93Why, my dear, a very sufficient reason.  She was married this morning.\x94

This was my first love.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

WISE RESOLVES.

Musing over this boyish adventure, I fell into a deep slumber, and on
awakening it took me some minutes before I could recall my senses
sufficiently to know where I was.  The whole face of things in my room
was completely changed.  Flowers had been put in the china vases upon the
tables--two handsome lamps, shaded with gauzes, stood upon the consoles
--illustrated books, prints, and caricatures, were scattered about.  A
piano-forte had also, by some witchcraft, insinuated itself into a recess
near the sofa--a handsome little tea service, of old Dresden china,
graced a marquetry table--and a little picquet table stood most
invitingly beside the fire.  I had scarcely time to turn my eyes from one
to the other of these new occupants, when I heard the handle of my door
gently turn, as if by some cautious hand, and immediately closed my eyes
and feigned sleep.  Through my half-shut lids I perceived the door
opened.  After a pause of about a second, the skirt of a white muslin
dress appeared--then a pretty foot stole a little farther--and at last
the slight and graceful figure of Emily Bingham advanced noiselessly into
the room.  Fear had rendered her deadly pale; but the effect of her rich
brown hair, braided plainly on either side of her cheek, suited so well
the character of her features, I thought her far handsomer than ever.
She came forward towards the table, and I now could perceive that she had
something in her hand resembling a letter.  This she placed near my hand
--so near as almost to touch it.  She leaned over me--I felt her breath
upon my brow, but never moved.  At this instant, a tress of her hair,
becoming unfastened, fell over upon my face.  She started--the motion
threw me off my guard, and I looked up.  She gave a faint, scarce audible
shriek, and sank into the chair beside me.  Recovering, however, upon the
instant, she grasped the letter she had just laid down, and, having
crushed it between her fingers, threw it into the fire.  This done--as if
the effort had been too much for her strength--she again fell back upon
her seat, and looked so pale I almost thought she had fainted.

Before I had time to speak, she rose once more; and now her face was
bathed in blushes, her eyes swam with rising tears, and her lips trembled
with emotion as she spoke.

\x93Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, what will you--what can you think of this?  If you
but knew--;\x94 and here she faltered and again grew pale, while I with
difficulty rising from the sofa, took her hand, and led her to the chair
beside it.

\x93And may I not know?\x94 said I; \x93may I not know, my dear\x94--I am not sure
I did not say dearest--\x93Miss Bingham, when, perhaps, the knowledge might
make me the happiest of mortals?\x94

This was a pretty plunge as a sequel to my late resolutions.  She hid her
face between her hands, and sobbed for some seconds.

\x93At least,\x94 said I, \x93as that letter was destined for me but a few moments
since, I trust that you will let me hear its contents.\x94

\x93Oh no--not now--not now,\x94 said she entreatingly; and, rising at the same
time, she turned to leave the room.  I still held her hand, and pressed
it within mine.  I thought she returned the pressure.  I leaned forward
to catch her eye, when the door was opened hastily, and a most
extraordinary figure presented itself.

It was a short, fat man, with a pair of enormous moustaches, of a fiery
red; huge bushy whiskers of the same colour; a blue frock covered with
braiding, and decorated with several crosses and ribbons; tight
pantaloons and Hessian boots, with long brass spurs.  He held a large
gold-headed cane in his hand, and looked about with an expression of very
equivocal drollery, mingled with fear.

\x93May I ask, sir,\x94 said I, as this individual closed the door behind him,
\x93may I ask the reason for this intrusion?\x94

\x93Oh, upon my conscience, I\x92ll do--I\x92m sure to pass muster now,\x94 said the
well-known voice of Mr. O\x92Leary, whose pleasant features began to dilate
amid the forest of red hair he was disguised in.  \x93But I see you are
engaged,\x94 said he, with a sly look at Miss Bingham, whom he had not yet
recognised; \x93so I must contrive to hide myself elsewhere, I suppose.\x94

\x93It is Miss Bingham,\x94 said I, \x93who has been kind enough to come here
with her maid, to bring me some flowers.  Pray present my respectful
compliments to Mrs. Bingham, and say how deeply I feel her most kind
attention.\x94

Emily rose at the instant, and recovering her self-possession at once,
said--

\x93You forget, Mr. Lorrequer, it is a secret from whom the flowers came;
at least mamma hoped to place them in your vases without you knowing.
So, pray, don\x92t speak of it--and I\x92m sure Mr. O\x92Leary will not tell.\x94

If Mr. O\x92Leary heard one word of this artful speech, I know not, but he
certainly paid no attention to it, nor the speaker, who left the room
without his appearing aware of it.

\x93Now that she is gone--for which heaven be praised,\x94 said I to myself;
\x93let me see what this fellow can mean.\x94

As I turned from the door, I could scarcely avoid laughing aloud at the
figure before me.  He stood opposite a large mirror, his hat on one side
of his head, one arm in his breast, and the other extended, leaning upon
his stick; a look of as much ferocity as such features could accomplish
had been assumed, and his whole attitude was a kind of caricature of a
melo-dramatic hero in a German drama.

\x93Why, O\x92Leary, what is all this?\x94

\x93Hush, hush,\x94 said he, in a terrified whisper--\x93never mention that name
again, till we are over the frontier.\x94

\x93But, man, explain--what do you mean?\x94

\x93Can\x92t you guess,\x94 said he drily.

\x93Impossible; unless the affair at the saloon has induced you to take this
disguise, I cannot conceive the reason.\x94

\x93Nothing farther from it, my dear friend; much worse than that.\x94

\x93Out with it, then, at once.\x94

\x93She\x92s come--she\x92s here--in this very house--No. 29, above the entre
sol.\x94

\x93Who is here, in No. 29, above the entre sol?\x94

\x93Who, but Mrs. O\x92Leary herself.  I was near saying bad luck to her.\x94

\x93And does she know you are here?\x94

\x93That is what I can\x92t exactly say,\x94 said he, \x93but she has had the Livre
des Voyageurs brought up to her room, and has been making rather
unpleasant inquiries for the proprietor of certain hieroglyphics
beginning with O, which have given me great alarm--the more, as all the
waiters have been sent for in turn, and subjected to long examination by
her.  So I have lost no time, but, under the auspices of your friend
Trevanion, have become the fascinating figure you find me, and am now
Compte O\x92Lieuki, a Pole of noble family, banished by the Russian
government, with a father in Siberia, and all that; and I hope, by the
end of the week, to be able to cheat at ecarte, and deceive the very
police itself.\x94

The idea of O\x92Leary\x92s assuming such a metamorphosis was too absurd not
to throw me into a hearty fit of laughing, in which the worthy emigre
indulged also.

\x93But why not leave this at once,\x94 said I, \x93if you are so much in dread of
a recognition?\x94

\x93You forget the trial,\x94 added O\x92Leary, \x93I must be here on the 18th or all
my bail is forfeited.\x94

\x93True--I had forgot that.  Well, now, your plans?\x94--

\x93Simply to keep very quiet here till the affair of the tribunal is over,
and then quit France at once.  Meanwhile, Trevanion thinks that we may,
by a bold stratagem, send Mrs. O\x92Leary off on a wrong scent, and has
requested Mrs. Bingham to contrive to make her acquaintance, and ask her
to tea in her room, when she will see me, en Polonais, at a distance, you
know--hear something of my melancholy destiny from Trevanion--and leave
the hotel quite sure she has no claim on me.  Meanwhile, some others of
the party are to mention incidentally having met Mr. O\x92Leary somewhere,
or heard of his decease, or any pleasant little incident that may occur
to them.\x94

\x93The plan is excellent,\x94 said I, \x93for in all probability she may never
come in your way again, if sent off on a good errand this time.\x94

\x93That\x92s what I\x92m thinking,\x94 said O\x92Leary; \x93and I am greatly disposed to
let her hear that I\x92m with Belzoni in Egypt, with an engagement to spend
the Christmas with the Dey of Algiers.  That would give her a very pretty
tour for the remainder of the year, and show her the pyramids.  But, tell
me fairly, am I a good Pole?\x94

\x93Rather short,\x94 said I, \x93and a little too fat, perhaps.\x94

\x93That comes from the dash of Tartar blood, nothing more; and my mother
was a Fin,\x94 said he, \x93she\x92ll never ask whether from Carlow or the
Caucasus.  How I revel in the thought, that I may smoke in company
without a breach of the unities.  But I must go: there is a gentleman
with a quinsey in No. 9, that gives me a lesson in Polish this morning.
So good-by, and don\x92t forget to be well enough to-night, for you must be
present at my debut.\x94

O\x92Leary had scarcely gone, when my thoughts reverted to Emily Bingham.
I was not such a coxcomb as to fancy her in love with me; yet certainly
there was something in the affair which looked not unlike it; and though,
by such a circumstance, every embarrassment which pressed upon me had
become infinitely greater, I could not dissemble from myself a sense of
pleasure at the thought.  She was really a very pretty girl, and improved
vastly upon acquaintance.  \x93Le absens ont toujours torts\x94 is the truest
proverb in any language, and I felt it in its fullest force when
Trevanion entered my room.

\x93Well, Lorrequer,\x94 said he, \x93your time is certainly not likely to hang
heavily on your hands in Paris, if occupation will prevent it, for I find
you are just now booked for a new scrape.\x94

\x93What can you mean?\x94 said I, starting up.

\x93Why, O\x92Leary, who has been since your illness, the constant visiter at
the Binghams--dining there every day, and spending his evenings--has just
told me that the mamma is only waiting for the arrival of Sir Guy
Lorrequer in Paris to open the trenches in all form; and from what she
has heard of Sir Guy, she deems it most likely he will give her every aid
and support to making you the husband of the fair Emily.\x94

\x93And with good reason, too,\x94 said I; \x93for if my uncle were only given to
understand that I had once gone far in my attentions, nothing would
induce him to break off the match.  He was crossed in love himself when
young, and has made a score of people miserable since, in the benevolent
idea of marrying them against every obstacle.\x94

\x93How very smart you have become,\x94 said Trevanion, taking a look round my
room, and surveying in turn each of the new occupants.  \x93You must
certainly reckon upon seeing your fair friend here, or all this propriete
is sadly wasted.\x94

This was the time to explain all about Miss Bingham\x92s visit; and I did
so, of course omitting any details which might seem to me needless, or
involving myself in inconsistency.

Trevanion listened patiently to the end--was silent for some moments
--then added--

\x93And you never saw the letter?\x94

\x93Of course not.  It was burned before my eyes.\x94

\x93I think the affair looks very serious, Lorrequer.  You may have won this
girl\x92s affections.  It matters little whether the mamma be a hacknied
match-maker, or the cousin a bullying duellist.  If the girl have a
heart, and that you have gained it\x94--

\x93Then I must marry, you would say.\x94

\x93Exactly so--without the prompting of your worthy uncle, I see no
other course open to you without dishonour.  My advice, therefore, is,
ascertain--and that speedily--how far your attentions have been attended
with the success you dread--and then decide at once.  Are you able to get
as far as Mrs. Bingham\x92s room this morning?  If so, come along.  I shall
take all the frais of la chere mamma off your hands, while you talk to
the daughter; and half-an-hour\x92s courage and resolution will do it all.\x94

Having made the most effective toilet my means would permit, my right arm
in a sling, and my step trembling from weakness, I sallied forth with
Trevanion to make love with as many fears for the result as the most
bashful admirer ever experienced, when pressing his suit upon some
haughty belle--but for a far different reason.



CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE PROPOSAL.

On reaching Mrs. Bingham\x92s apartments, we found that she had just left
home to wait upon Mrs. O\x92Leary, and consequently, that Miss Bingham was
alone.  Trevanion, therefore, having wished me a safe deliverance through
my trying mission, shook my hand warmly, and departed.

I stood for some minutes irresolutely, with my hand upon the lock of the
door.  To think that the next few moments may decide the fortune of one\x92s
after life, is a sufficiently anxious thought; but that your fate may be
so decided, by compelling you to finish in sorrow what you have begun in
folly, is still more insupportable.  Such, then, was my condition.  I had
resolved within myself, if the result of this meeting should prove that I
had won Miss Bingham\x92s affections, to propose for her at once in all
form, and make her my wife.  If, on the other hand, I only found that she
too had amused herself with a little passing flirtation, why then, I was
a free man once more: but, on catechising myself a little closer, also,
one somewhat disposed to make love de novo.

With the speed of lightning, my mind ran over every passage of our
acquaintance--our first meeting--our solitary walks--our daily, hourly
associations--our travelling intimacy--the adventure at Chantraine;
--There was, it is true, nothing in all this which could establish the
fact of wooing, but every thing which should convince an old offender
like myself that the young lady was \x93en prise,\x94 and that I myself
--despite my really strong attachment elsewhere--was not entirely
scathless.

\x93Yes,\x94 said I, half aloud, as I once more reviewed the past, \x93it is but
another chapter in my history in keeping with all the rest--one step has
ever led me to a second, and so on to a third; what with other men have
passed for mere trifles, have ever with me become serious difficulties,
and the false enthusiasm with which I ever follow any object in life,
blinds me for the time, and mistaking zeal for inclination, I never feel
how little my heart is interested in success, till the fever of pursuit
is over.\x94

These were pleasant thoughts for one about to throw himself at a pretty
girl\x92s feet, and pour out his \x93soul of love before her;\x94 but that with me
was the least part of it.  Curran, they say, usually picked up his facts
in a case from the opposite counsel\x92s statements; I always relied for my
conduct in carrying on any thing, to the chance circumstances of the
moment, and trusted to my animal spirits to give me an interest in
whatever for the time being engaged me.

I opened the door.  Miss Bingham was sitting at a table, her head leaning
upon her hands--some open letters which lay before her, evidently so
occupying her attention, that my approach was unheard.  On my addressing
her, she turned round suddenly, and became at first deep scarlet, then
pale as death: while, turning to the table, she hurriedly threw her
letters into a drawer, and motioned me to a place beside her.

After the first brief and common-place inquiry for my health, and hopes
for my speedy recovery, she became silent; and I too, primed with topics
innumerable to discuss--knowing how short my time might prove before Mrs.
Bingham\x92s return--could not say a word.

\x93I hope, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said she, at length, \x93that you have incurred no
risque by leaving your room so early.\x94

\x93I have not,\x94 I replied, \x93but, even were there a certainty of it, the
anxiety I laboured under to see and speak with you alone, would have
overcome all fears on this account.  Since this unfortunate business
has confined me to my chamber, I have done nothing but think over
circumstances which have at length so entirely taken possession of me,
that I must, at any sacrifice, have sought an opportunity to explain to
you\x94--here Emily looked down, and I continued--\x93I need scarcely say what
my feelings must long since have betrayed, that to have enjoyed the daily
happiness of living in your society, of estimating your worth, of feeling
your fascinations, were not the means most in request for him, who knew,
too well, how little he deserved, either by fortune or desert, to hope,
to hope to make you his; and yet, how little has prudence or caution to
do with situations like this.\x94  She did not guess the animus of this
speech.  \x93I felt all I have described; and yet, and yet, I lingered on,
prizing too dearly the happiness of the present hour, to risque it by any
avowal of sentiments, which might have banished me from your presence for
ever.  If the alteration of these hopes and fears have proved too strong
for my reason at last, I cannot help it; and this it is which now leads
me to make this avowal to you.\x94  Emily turned her head away from me; but
her agitated manner showed how deeply my words had affected her; and I
too, now that I had finished, felt that I had been \x93coming it rather
strong.\x94

\x93I hoped, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said she, at length, \x93I hoped, I confess, to
have had an opportunity of speaking with you.\x94  Then, thought I, the game
is over, and Bishop Luscombe is richer by five pounds, than I wish him.
--\x93Something, I know not what, in your manner, led me to suspect that your
affections might lean towards me; hints you have dropped, and, now and
then, your chance allusions strengthened the belief, and I determined, at
length, that no feeling of maidenly shame on my part should endanger the
happiness of either of us, and I determined to see you; this was so
difficult, that I wrote a letter, and that letter, which might have saved
me all distressing explanation, I burned before you this morning.\x94

\x93But, why, dearest girl,\x94--here was a plunge--\x93why, if the letter could
remove any misconstruction, or could be the means of dispelling any
doubt--why not let me see it?\x94

\x93Hear me out,\x94 cried she, eagerly, and evidently not heeding my
interruption, \x93I determined if your affections were indeed\x94--a flood of
tears here broke forth, and drowned her words; her head sank between her
hands, and she sobbed bitterly.

\x93Corpo di Baccho!\x94 said I to myself, \x93It is all over with me; the poor
girl is evidently jealous, and her heart will break.\x94

\x93Dearest, dearest Emily,\x94 said I, passing my arm round her, and
approaching my head close to her\x92s, \x93if you think that any other love
than yours could ever beat within this heart--that I could see you hourly
before me--live beneath your smile, and gaze upon your beauty--and, still
more than all--pardon the boldness of the thought--feel that I was not
indifferent to you.\x94--

\x93Oh! spare me this at least,\x94 said she, turning round her tearful eyes
upon me, and looking most bewitchingly beautiful.  \x93Have I then showed
you this plainly?\x94

\x93Yes, dearest girl!  That instinct which tells us we are loved has spoken
within me.  And here in this beating heart\x94--

\x93Oh! say not more,\x94 said she, \x93if I have, indeed, gained your
affections\x94--

\x93If--if you have,\x94 said I, clasping her to my heart, while she continued
to sob still violently, and I felt half disposed to blow my brains out
for my success.  However, there is something in love-making as in
fox-hunting, which carries you along in spite of yourself; and I
continued to pour forth whole rhapsodies of love that the Pastor Fido
could not equal.

\x93Enough,\x94 said she, \x93it is enough that you love me and that I have
encouraged your so doing.  But oh! tell me once more, and think how much
of future happiness may rest upon your answer--tell me, may not this be
some passing attachment, which circumstances have created, and others may
dispel?  Say, might not absence, time, or another more worthy\x94--

This was certainly a very rigid cross-examination when I thought the
trial was over; and not being exactly prepared for it, I felt no other
mode of reply than pressing her taper fingers alternately to my lips, and
muttering something that might pass for a declaration of love
unalterable, but, to my own ears, resembled a lament on my folly.

\x93She is mine now,\x94 thought I, \x93so we must e\x92en make the best of it; and
truly she is a very handsome girl, though not a Lady Jane Callonby.  The
next step is the mamma; but I do not anticipate much difficulty in that
quarter.\x94

\x93Leave me now,\x94 said she, in a low and broken voice; \x93but promise not to
speak of this meeting to any one before we meet again.  I have my
reasons; believe me they are sufficient ones, so promise me this before
we part.\x94

Having readily given the pledge required, I again kissed her hand and
bade farewell, not a little puzzled the whole time at perceiving that
ever since my declaration and acceptance Emily seemed any thing but
happy, and evidently struggling against some secret feeling of which I
knew nothing.  \x93Yes,\x94 thought I, as I wended my way along the corridor,
\x93the poor girl is tremendously jealous, and I must have said may a thing
during our intimacy to hurt her.  However, that is all past and gone; and
now comes a new character for me: my next appearance wil be \x91en bon
mari.\x92\x94



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THOUGHTS UPON MATRIMONY IN GENERAL, AND IN THE ARMY IN PARTICULAR--THE
KNIGHT OF KERRY AND BILLY M\x92CABE.

\x93So,\x94 thought I, as I closed the door of my room behind me, \x93I am
accepted--the die is cast which makes me a Benedict: yet heaven knows
that never was a man less disposed to be over joyous at his good
fortune!\x94  What a happy invention it were, if when adopting any road in
life, we could only manage to forget that we had ever contemplated any
other!  It is the eternal looking back in this world that forms the
staple of all our misery; and we are but ill-requited for such
unhappiness by the brightest anticipations we can conjure up for the
future.  How much of all that \x93past\x94 was now to become a source of
painful recollection, and to how little of the future could I look
forward with even hope!

Our weaknesses are much more constantly the spring of all our annoyances
and troubles than even our vices.  The one we have in some sort of
subjection: we are perfectly slaves to the others.  This thought came
home most forcibly to my bosom, as I reflected upon the step which led me
on imperceptibly to my present embarrassment.  \x93Well, c\x92est fini, now,\x94
 said I, drawing upon that bountiful source of consolation ever open to
the man who mars his fortune--that \x93what is past can\x92t be amended;\x94 which
piece of philosophy, as well as its twin brother, that \x93all will be the
same a hundred years hence,\x94 have been golden rules to me from my
childhood.

The transition from one mode of life to another perfectly different has
ever seemed to me a great trial of a man\x92s moral courage; besides that
the fact of quitting for ever any thing, no matter how insignificant or
valueless, is always attended with painful misgivings.  My bachelor life
had its share of annoyances and disappointments, it is true; but, upon
the whole it was a most happy one--and now I was about to surrender it
for ever, not yielding to the impulse of affection and love for one
without whom life were valueless to me, but merely a recompense for the
indulgence of that fatal habit I had contracted of pursuing with
eagerness every shadow that crossed my path.  All my early friends
--all my vagrant fancies--all my daydreams of the future I was now to
surrender--for, what becomes of any man\x92s bachelor friends when he is
once married?  Where are his rambles in high and bye-ways when he has a
wife? and what is left for anticipation after his wedding except,
perhaps, to speculate upon the arrangement of his funeral?  To a military
man more than to any other these are serious thoughts.  All the
fascinations of an army life, in war or peace, lie in the daily, hourly
associations with your brother officers--the morning cigar, the
barrack-square lounge--the afternoon ride--the game of billiards before
dinner--the mess (that perfection of dinner society)--the plans for the
evening--the deviled kidney at twelve--forming so many points of
departure whence you sail out upon your daily voyage through life.
Versus those you have that awful perversion of all that is natural--an
officer\x92s wife.  She has been a beauty when young, had black eyes and
high complexion, a good figure, rather inclined to embonpoint, and a
certain springiness in her walk, and a jauntiness in her air, that are
ever sure attractions to a sub in a marching regiment.  She can play
backgammon, and sing \x93di tanti palpiti,\x94 and, if an Irishwoman, is
certain to be able to ride a steeple-chase, and has an uncle a lord, who
(en parenthese) always turns out to be a creation made by King James
after his abdication.  In conclusion, she breakfasts en papillote--wears
her shoes down at heel--calls every officer of the regiment by his name
--has a great taste for increasing his majesty\x92s lieges, and delights in
London porter.  To this genus of Frow I have never ceased to entertain
the most thrilling abhorrence; and yet how often have I seen what
appeared to be pretty and interesting girls fall into something of this
sort! and how often have I vowed any fate to myself rather than become
the husband of a baggage-waggon wife!

Had all my most sanguine hopes promised realizing--had my suit with Lady
Jane been favourable, I could scarcely have bid adieu to my bachelor life
without a sigh.  No prospect of future happiness can ever perfectly
exclude all regret at quitting our present state for ever.  I am sure if
I had been a caterpillar, it would have been with a heavy heart that I
would have donned my wings as a butterfly.  Now the metamorphosis was
reversed: need it be wondered if I were sad?

So completely was I absorbed in my thoughts upon this matter, that I had
not perceived the entrance of O\x92Leary and Trevanion, who, unaware of my
being in the apartment, as I was stretched upon a sofa in a dark corner,
drew their chairs towards the fire and began chatting.

\x93Do you know, Mr. Trevanion,\x94 said O\x92Leary, \x93I am half afraid of this
disguise of mine.  I sometimes think I am not like a Pole; and if she
should discover me\x94--

\x93No fear of that in the world; your costume is perfect, your beard
unexceptionable.  I could, perhaps, have desired a little less paunch;
but then\x94--

\x93That comes of fretting, as Falstaff says; and you must not forget that
I am banished from my country.\x94

\x93Now, as to your conversation, I should advise you saying very little
--not one word in English.  You may, if you like, call in the assistance
of Irish when hard pressed?

\x93I have my fears on that score.  There is no knowing where that might
lead to discovery.  You know the story of the Knight of Kerry and Billy
McCabe?\x94

\x93I fear I must confess my ignorance--I have never heard of it.\x94

\x93Then may be you never knew Giles Daxon?\x94

\x93I have not had that pleasure either.\x94

\x93Lord bless me, how strange that is!  I thought he was better known than
the Duke of Wellington or the travelling piper.  Well, I must tell you
the story, for it has a moral, too--indeed several morals; but you\x92ll
find that out for yourself.  Well, it seems that one day the Knight of
Kerry was walking along the Strand in London, killing an hour\x92s time,
till the house was done prayers, and Hume tired of hearing himself
speaking; his eye was caught by an enormous picture displayed upon the
wall of a house, representing a human figure covered with long dark hair,
with huge nails upon his hands, and a most fearful expression of face.
At first the Knight thought it was Dr. Bowring; but on coming nearer he
heard a man with a scarlet livery and a cocked hat, call out, \x91Walk in,
ladies and gentlemen--the most vonderful curiosity ever exhibited--only
one shilling--the vild man from Chippoowango, in Africay--eats raw
wittles without being cooked, and many other surprising and pleasing
performances.\x92

\x93The knight paid his money, and was admitted.  At first the crowd
prevented his seeing any thing--for the place was full to suffocation,
and the noise awful--for, besides the exclamations and applause of the
audience, there were three barrel-organs, playing \x91Home, sweet Home!\x92 and
\x91Cherry Ripe,\x92 and the wild man himself contributed his share to the
uproar.  At last, the Knight obtained, by dint of squeezing, and some
pushing a place in the front, when, to his very great horror, he beheld a
figure that far eclipsed the portrait without doors.

\x93It was a man nearly naked, covered with long, shaggy hair, that grew
even over his nose and cheek bones.  He sprang about, sometimes on his
feet, sometimes, all-fours, but always uttering the most fearful yells,
and glaring upon the crowd, in a manner that was really dangerous.  The
Knight did not feel exactly happy at the whole proceeding, and began
heartily to wish himself back in the \x91House,\x92 even upon a committee of
privileges, when, suddenly, the savage gave a more frantic scream than
before, and seized upon a morsel of raw beef, which a keeper extended to
him upon a long fork, like a tandem whip--he was not safe, it appears, at
close quarters;--this he tore to pieces eagerly and devoured in the most
voracious manner, amid great clapping of hands, and other evidences of
satisfaction from the audience.  I\x92ll go, now, thought the Knight: for,
God knows whether, in his hungry moods, he might not fancy to conclude
his dinner by a member of parliament.  Just at this instant, some sounds
struck upon his ear that surprised him not a little.  He listened more
attentively; and, conceive if you can, his amazement, to find that, amid
his most fearful cries, and wild yells, the savage was talking Irish.
Laugh, if you like; but it\x92s truth I am telling you; nothing less than
Irish.  There he was, jumping four feet high in the air, eating his raw
meat: pulling out his hair by handfuls; and, amid all this, cursing the
whole company to his heart\x92s content, in as good Irish as ever was heard
in Tralee.  Now, though the Knight had heard of red Jews and white
Negroes, he had never happened to read any account of an African
Irishman; so, he listened very closely, and by degrees, not only the
words were known to him, but the very voice was familiar.  At length,
something he heard, left no further doubt upon his mind, and, turning to
the savage, he addressed him in Irish, at the same time fixing a look of
most scrutinizing import upon him.

\x93\x91Who are you, you scoundrel\x92 said the Knight.

\x93\x91Billy M\x92Cabe your honour.\x92

\x93\x91And what do you mean by playing off these tricks here, instead of
earning your bread like an honest man?\x92

\x93\x91Whisht,\x92 said Billy, \x91and keep the secret.  I\x92m earning the rent for
your honour.  One must do many a queer thing that pays two pound ten an
acre for bad land.\x92

\x93This was enough: the Knight wished Billy every success, and left him
amid the vociferous applause of a well satisfied audience.  This
adventure, it seems, has made the worthy Knight a great friend to the
introduction of poor laws; for, he remarks very truly, \x91more of Billy\x92s
countrymen might take a fancy to a savage life, if the secret was found
out.\x92\x94

It was impossible for me to preserve my incognito, as Mr. O\x92Leary
concluded his story, and I was obliged to join in the mirth of Trevanion,
who laughed loud and long as he finished it.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

A REMINISCENCE.

O\x92Leary and Trevanion had scarcely left the room when the waiter entered
with two letters--the one bore a German post-mark, and was in the
well-known hand of Lady Callonby--the other in a writing with which I was
no less familiar--that of Emily Bingham.

Let any one who has been patient enough to follow me through these
\x93Confessions,\x94 conceive my agitation at this moment.  There lay my fate
before me, coupled, in all likelihood, with a view of what it might have
been under happier auspices--at least so in anticipation did I read the
two unopened epistles.  My late interview with Miss Bingham left no doubt
upon my mind that I had secured her affections; and acting in accordance
with the counsel of Trevanion, no less than of my own sense of right, I
resolved upon marrying her, with what prospect of happiness I dared not
to think of!

Alas! and alas! there is no infatuation like the taste for flirtation
--mere empty, valueless, heartless flirtation.  You hide the dice-box and
the billiard queue, lest your son become a gambler--you put aside the
racing calendar, lest he imbibe a jockey predilection--but you never
tremble at his fondness for white muslin and a satin slipper, far more
dangerous tastes though they be, and infinitely more perilous to a man\x92s
peace and prosperity than all the \x93queens of trumps\x94 that ever figured,
whether on pasteboard or the Doncaster.  \x93Woman\x92s my weakness, yer
honor,\x94 said an honest Patlander, on being charged before the lord mayor
with having four wives living; and without having any such \x93Algerine act\x94
 upon my conscience, I must, I fear, enter a somewhat similar plea for my
downfallings, and avow in humble gratitude, that I have scarcely had a
misfortune through life unattributable to them in one way or another.
And this I say without any reference to country, class, or complexion,
\x93black, brown or fair,\x94 from my first step forth into life, a raw sub.
in the gallant 4_th, to this same hour, I have no other avowal, no other
confession to make.  \x93Be always ready with the pistol,\x94 was the dying
advice of an Irish statesman to his sons: mine, in a similar
circumstance, would rather be \x93Gardez vous des femmes,\x94 and more
especially if they be Irish.

There is something almost treacherous in the facility with which an
Irish girl receives your early attentions and appears to like them,
that invariably turns a young fellow\x92s head very long before he has any
prospect of touching her heart.  She thinks it so natural to be made love
to, that there is neither any affected coyness nor any agitated surprise.
She listens to your declaration of love as quietly as the chief justice
would to one of law, and refers the decision to a packed jury of her
relatives, who rarely recommend you to mercy.  Love and fighting, too,
are so intimately united in Ireland, that a courtship rarely progresses
without at least one exchange of shots between some of the parties
concerned.  My first twenty-four hours in Dublin is so pleasantly
characteristic of this that I may as well relate it here, while the
subject is before us; besides, as these \x93Confessions\x94 are intended as
warnings and guides to youth, I may convey a useful lesson, showing why
a man should not \x93make love in the dark.\x94

It was upon a raw, cold, drizzling morning in February, 18__, that our
regiment landed on the North-wall from Liverpool, whence we had been
hurriedly ordered to repress some riots and disturbances then agitating
Dublin.

We marched to the Royal Barracks, our band playing Patrick\x92s Day, to the
very considerable admiration of as naked a population as ever loved
music.  The __th dragoons were at the same time quartered there--right
pleasant jovial fellows, who soon gave us to understand that the troubles
were over before we arrived, and that the great city authorities were now
returning thanks for their preservation from fire and sword, by a series
of entertainments of the most costly, but somewhat incongruous kind--the
company being scarce less melee than the dishes.  Peers and playactors,
judges and jailors, archbishops, tailors, attorneys, ropemakers and
apothecaries, all uniting in the festive delight of good feeding, and
drinking the \x93glorious memory\x94--but of whom half the company knew not,
only surmising \x93it was something agin the papists.\x94  You may smile, but
these were pleasant times, and I scarcely care to go back there since
they were changed.  But to return.  The __th had just received an
invitation to a ball, to be given by the high sheriff, and to which they
most considerately said we should also be invited.  This negociation was
so well managed that before noon we all received our cards from a green
liveried youth, mounted on a very emaciated pony--the whole turn-out not
auguring flatteringly of the high sheriff\x92s taste in equipage.

We dined with the __th, and, as customary before going to an evening
party, took the \x93other bottle\x94 of claret that lies beyond the frontier of
prudence.  In fact, from the lieutenant-colonel down to the newly-joined
ensign, there was not a face in the party that did not betray \x93signs of
the times\x94 that boded most favourably for the mirth of the sheriff\x92s
ball.  We were so perfectly up to the mark, that our major, a Connemara
man, said, as we left the mess-room, \x93a liqueure glass would spoil us.\x94

In this acme of our intellectual wealth, we started about eleven o\x92clock
upon every species of conveyance that chance could press into the
service.  Of hackney coaches there were few--but in jingles, noddies, and
jaunting-cars, with three on a side and \x93one in the well,\x94 we mustered
strong--Down Barrack-street we galloped, the mob cheering us, we
laughing, and I\x92m afraid shouting a little, too--the watchmen springing
their rattles, as if instinctively at noise, and the whole population up
and awake, evidently entertaining a high opinion of our convivial
qualities.  Our voices became gradually more decorous, however, as we
approached the more civilized quarter of the town; and with only the
slight stoppage of the procession to pick up an occasional dropper-off,
as he lapsed from the seat of a jaunting-car, we arrived at length at our
host\x92s residence, somewhere in Sackville-street.

Had our advent conferred the order of knighthood upon the host, he could
not have received us with more \x93empressement.\x94  He shook us all in turn
by the hand, to the number of eight and thirty, and then presented us
seriatim to his spouse, a very bejewelled lady of some forty years--who,
what between bugles, feathers, and her turban, looked excessively like a
Chinese pagoda upon a saucer.  The rooms were crowded to suffocation--the
noise awful--and the company crushing and elbowing rather a little more
than you expect where the moiety are of the softer sex.  However, \x93on
s\x92habitue a tout,\x94 sayeth the proverb, and with truth, for we all so
perfectly fell in with the habits of the place, that ere half an hour,
we squeezed, ogled, leered, and drank champagne like the rest of the
corporation.

\x93Devilish hot work, this,\x94 said the colonel, as he passed me with two
rosy-cheeked, smiling ladies on either arm; \x93the mayor--that little
fellow in the punch-coloured shorts--has very nearly put me hors de
combat with champagne; take care of him, I advise you.\x94

Tipsy as I felt myself, I was yet sufficiently clear to be fully alive
to the drollery of the scene before me.  Flirtations that, under other
circumstances, would demand the secrecy and solitude of a country green
lane, or some garden bower, were here conducted in all the open
effrontery of wax lights and lustres; looks were interchanged, hands
were squeezed, and soft things whispered, and smiles returned; till
the intoxication of \x93punch negus\x94 and spiced port, gave way to the far
greater one of bright looks and tender glances.  Quadrilles and country
dances--waltzing there was none, (perhaps all for the best)--whist,
backgammon, loo--unlimited for uproar--sandwiches, and warm liquors,
employed us pretty briskly till supper was announced, when a grand
squeeze took place on the stairs--the population tending thitherward with
an eagerness that a previous starvation of twenty-four hours could alone
justify.  Among this dense mass of moving muslin, velvet and broad-cloth,
I found myself chaperoning an extremely tempting little damsel, with a
pair of laughing blue eyes and dark eyelashes, who had been committed to
my care and guidance for the passage.

\x93Miss Moriarty, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said an old lady in green and spangles,
who I afterwards found was the lady mayoress.

\x93The nicest girl in the room,\x94 said a gentleman with a Tipperary accent,
\x93and has a mighty nice place near Athlone.\x94

The hint was not lost upon me, and I speedily began to faire l\x92amiable to
my charge; and before we reached the supper room, learned certain
particulars of her history, which I have not yet forgot.  She was, it
seems, sister to a lady then in the room, the wife of an attorney, who
rejoiced in the pleasing and classical appellation of Mr. Mark Anthony
Fitzpatrick; the aforesaid Mark Anthony being a tall, raw-boned,
black-whiskered, ill-looking dog, that from time to time contrived to
throw very uncomfortable looking glances at me and Mary Anne, for she was
so named, the whole time of supper.  After a few minutes, however, I
totally forgot him, and, indeed, every thing else, in the fascination of
my fair companion.  She shared her chair with me, upon which I supported
her by my arm passed round the back; we eat our pickled salmon, jelly,
blanc mange, cold chicken, ham, and custard; off the same plate, with an
occasional squeeze of the finger, as our hands met--her eyes making sad
havoc with me all the while, as I poured my tale of love--love, lasting,
burning, all-consuming--into her not unwilling ear.

\x93Ah! now, ye\x92r not in earnest?\x94

\x93Yes, Mary Anne, by all that\x92s\x94--

\x93Well, there now, don\x92t swear, and take care--sure Mark Anthony is
looking.\x94

\x93Mark Anthony be--\x94

\x93Oh! how passionate you are; I\x92m sure I never could live easy with you.
There, now, give me some sponge cake, and don\x92t be squeezing me, or
they\x92ll see you.\x94

\x93Yes, to my heart, dearest girl.\x94

\x93Och, it\x92s cheese you\x92re giving me,\x94 said she, with a grimace that nearly
cured my passion.

\x93A cottage, a hut, with you--with you,\x94 said I, in a cadence that I defy
Macready to rival--\x93what is worldly splendour, or the empty glitter of
rank.\x94

I here glanced at my epaulettes, upon which I saw her eyes rivetted.

\x93Isn\x92t the ginger beer beautiful,\x94 said she, emptying a glass of
champagne.

Still I was not to be roused from my trance, and continued my courtship
as warmly as ever.

\x93I suppose you\x92ll come home now,\x94 said a gruff voice behind Mary Anne.

I turned and perceived Mark Anthony with a grim look of peculiar import.

\x93Oh, Mark dear, I\x92m engaged to dance another set with this gentleman.\x94

\x93Ye are, are ye?\x94 replied Mark, eyeing me askance.  \x93Troth and I think
the gentleman would be better if he went off to his flea-bag himself.\x94

In my then mystified intellect this west country synonyme for a bed a
little puzzled me.

\x93Yes sir, the lady is engaged to me: have you any thing to say to that?\x94

\x93Nothing at present, at all,\x94 said Mark, almost timidly.

\x93Oh dear, oh dear,\x94 sobbed Mary Anne; \x93they\x92re going to fight, and he\x92ll
be killed--I know he will.\x94

For which of us this fate was destined, I stopped not to consider, but
amid a very sufficient patting upon the back, and thumping between the
shoulders, bestowed by members of the company who approved of my
proceedings.  The three fiddles, the flute, and bassoon, that formed our
band, being by this time sufficiently drunk, played after a fashion of
their own, which by one of those strange sympathies of our nature,
imparted its influence to our legs, and a country dance was performed in
a style of free and easy gesticulation that defies description.  At the
end of eighteen couple, tired of my exertions--and they were not slight
--I leaned my back against the wall of the room, which I now, for the
first time, perceived was covered with a very peculiar and novel species
of hanging--no less than a kind of rough, green baize cloth, that moved
and floated at every motion of the air.  I paid little attention to this,
till suddenly turning my head, something gave way behind it.  I felt
myself struck upon the back of the neck, and fell forward into the room,
covered by a perfect avalanche of fenders, fire-irons, frying-pans, and
copper kettles, mingled with the lesser artillery of small nails, door
keys, and holdfasts.  There I lay amid the most vociferous mirth I ever
listened to, under the confounded torrent of ironmongery that
half-stunned me.  The laughter over, I was assisted to rise, and having
drank about a pint of vinegar, and had my face and temples washed in
strong whiskey punch--the allocation of the fluids being mistaken, I
learned that our host, the high sheriff, was a celebrated tin and iron
man, and that his salles de reception were no other than his magazine of
metals, and that to conceal the well filled shelves from the gaze of his
aristocratic guests, they were clothed in the manner related; which my
unhappy head, by some misfortune, displaced, and thus brought on a
calamity scarcely less afflicting to him than to myself.  I should
scarcely have stopped to mention this here, were it not that Mary Anne\x92s
gentle nursing of me in my misery went far to complete what her
fascination had begun; and although she could not help laughing at the
occurrence, I forgave her readily for her kindness.

\x93Remember,\x94 said I, trying to ogle through a black eye, painted by the
angle of a register grate--\x93remember, Mary Anne, I am to see you home.\x94

\x93Oh! dear, sir, sure I don\x92t know how you can manage it--\x94

Here Mark Anthony\x92s entrance cut short this speech, for he came to
declare that some of the officers had taken his coach, and was, as might
be supposed, in a towering passion.

\x93If, sir,\x94 said I, with an air of the most balmy courtesy--\x93If I can be
of any use in assisting you to see your friends home--\x94

\x93Ah! then, ye\x92r a nice looking article to see ladies home.  I wish you
seen yourself this minute,\x94 said he.

As I felt it would be no breach of the unities--time, place, and every
thing considered--to smash his skull, I should certainly have proceeded
to do so, had not a look of the most imploring kind from Mary Anne
restrained me.  By this time, he had taken her under the arm, and was
leading her away.  I stood irresolute, till a glance from my charmer
caught me; when I rallied at once, and followed them down stairs.  Here
the scene was the full as amusing as above; the cloaking, shawling,
shoeing, &c., of the ladies being certainly as mirth-moving a process
as I should wish to see.  Here were mothers trying to collect their
daughters, as a hen her chickens, and as in that case, the pursuit of one
usually lost all the others; testy papas swearing, lovers leering, as
they twisted the boas round the fair throats of their sweethearts; vows
of love, mingling with lamentations for a lost slipper, or a stray
mantle.  Sometimes the candles were extinguished, and the melee became
greater, till the order and light were restored together.  Meanwhile,
each of our fellows had secured his fair one, save myself, and I was
exposed to no small ridicule for my want of savoir faire.  Nettled at
this, I made a plunge to the corner of the room, where Mary Anne was
shawling; I recognized her pink sash, threw her cloak over her shoulders,
and at the very moment that Mark Anthony drew his wife\x92s arm within his,
I performed the same by my friend, and followed them to the door.  Here,
the grim brother-in-law turned round to take Mary Anne\x92s arm, and seeing
her with me, merely gave a kind of hoarse chuckle, and muttered, \x93Very
well, sir: upon my conscience you will have it, I see.\x94  During this
brief interval, so occupied was I in watching him, that I never once
looked in my fair friend\x92s face; but the gentle squeeze of her arm, as
she leaned upon me, assured me that I had her approval of what I was
doing.

What were the precise train of my thoughts, and what the subjects of
conversation between us, I am unfortunately now unable to recollect.
It is sufficient to remember, that I could not believe five minutes had
elapsed, when we arrived at York-street.  \x93Then you confess you love me,\x94
 said I, as I squeezed her arm to my side.

\x93Then, by this kiss,\x94 said I, \x93I swear, never to relinquish.\x94--

What I was about to add, I am sure I know not; but true it is, that a
certain smacking noise here attracted Mr. Mark Anthony\x92s attention, who
started round, looked as full in the face, and then gravely added,
\x93Enough is as good as a feast.  I wish you pleasant drames, Mr. Larry
Kar, if that\x92s your name; and you\x92ll hear from me in the morning.\x94

\x93I intend it,\x94 said I.  \x93Good night, dearest; think of--\x94  The slam of
the street door in my face spoiled the peroration, and I turned towards
home.

By the time I reached the barracks, the united effects of the champagne,
sherry, and Sheffield iron, had, in a good measure subsided, and my head
had become sufficiently clear to permit a slight retrospect of the
evening\x92s amusement.

From two illusions I was at least awakened:--First, the high sheriff\x92s
ball was not the most accurate representation of high society; secondly,
I was not deeply enamoured of Mary Anne Moriarty.  Strange as it may
seem, and how little soever the apparent connexion between those two
facts, the truth of one had a considerable influence in deciding the
other.  N\x92importe, said I, the thing is over; it was rather good fun,
too, upon the whole--saving the \x93chute des casseroles;\x94 and as to the
lady, she must have seen it was a joke as well as myself.  At least, so I
am decided it shall be; and as there was no witness to our conversation,
the thing is easily got out of.

The following day, as I was dressing to ride out, my servant announced no
less a person than Mr. Mark Anthony Fitzpatrick, who said \x93that he came
upon a little business, and must see me immediately.\x94

Mr. Fitzpatrick, upon being announced, speedily opened his negociation by
asking in very terse and unequivocal phrase, my intentions regarding his
sister-in-law.  After professing the most perfect astonishment at the
question, and its possible import, I replied, that she was a most
charming person, with whom I intended to have nothing whatever to do.

\x93And maybe you never proposed for her at the ball last night?\x94

\x93Propose for a lady at a ball the first time I ever met her!\x94

\x93Just so.  Can you carry your memory so far back? or, perhaps I had
better refresh it;\x94 and he here repeated the whole substance of my
conversation on the way homeward, sometimes in the very words I used.

\x93But, my dear sir, the young lady could never have supposed I used such
language as this you have repeated?\x94

\x93So, then, you intend to break off?  Well, then, it\x92s right to tell you
that you\x92re in a very ugly scrape, for it was my wife you took home last
night--not Miss Moriarty; and I leave you to choose at your leisure
whether you\x92d rather be defendant in a suit for breach of promise or
seduction; and, upon my conscience, I think it\x92s civil in me to give you
a choice.\x94

What a pretty disclosure was here!  So that while I was imaging myself
squeezing the hand and winning the heart of the fair Mary Anne, I was
merely making a case of strong evidence for a jury, that might expose me
to the world, and half ruin me in damages.  There was but one course
open--to make a fight for it; and, from what I saw of my friend Mark
Anthony, this did not seem difficult.

I accordingly assumed a high tone--laughed at the entire affair--said it
was a \x93way we had in the army\x94--that \x93we never meant any thing by it,\x94
 &c. &c.

In a few minutes I perceived the bait was taking.  Mr. Fitzpatrick\x92s west
country blood was up: all thought of the legal resource was abandoned;
and he flung out of the room to find a friend, I having given him the
name of \x93one of ours\x94 as mine upon the occasion.

Very little time was lost, for before three o\x92clock that afternoon a
meeting was fixed for the following morning at the North Bull; and I had
the satisfaction of hearing that I only escaped the malignant eloquence
of Holmes in the King\x92s Bench, to be \x93blazed\x94 at by the best shot on the
western circuit.  The thought was no way agreeable, and I indemnified
myself for the scrape by a very satisfactory anathema upon the high
sheriff and his ball, and his confounded saucepans; for to the lady\x92s
sympathy for my sufferings I attributed much of my folly.

At eight the next morning I found myself standing with Curzon and the
doctor upon that bleak portion of her majesty\x92s dominion they term the
North Bull, waiting in a chilly rain, and a raw fog, till it pleased Mark
Anthony Fitzpatrick, to come and shoot me--such being the precise terms
of our combat, in the opinion of all parties.

The time, however, passed on, and half-past eight, three quarters, and at
last nine o\x92clock, without his appearing; when, just as Curzon had
resolved upon our leaving the ground, a hack jaunting-car was seen
driving at full speed along the road near us.  It came nearer and at
length drew up; two men leaped off and came towards us; one of whom, as
he came forward, took off his hat politely, and introduced himself as Mr.
O\x92Gorman, the fighting friend of Mark Anthony.

\x93It\x92s a mighty unpleasant business I\x92m come upon, gentlemen,\x94 said he,
\x93Mr. Fitzpatrick has been unavoidedly prevented from having the happiness
to meet you this morning--\x94

\x93Then you can\x92t expect us, sir, to dance attendance upon him here
to-morrow,\x94 said Curzon, interrupting.

\x93By no manner of means,\x94 replied the other, placidly; \x93for it would be
equally inconvenient for him to be here then.  But I have only to say,
maybe you\x92d have the kindness to waive all etiquette, and let me stand in
his place.\x94

\x93Certainly and decidedly not,\x94 said Curzon.  \x93Waive etiquette!--why, sir,
we have no quarrel with you; never saw you before.\x94

\x93Well, now, isn\x92t this hard?\x94 said Mr. O\x92Gorman, addressing his friend,
who stood by with a pistol-case under his arm; \x93but I told Mark that I
was sure they\x92d be standing upon punctilio, for they were English.  Well,
sir,\x94 said he, turning towards Curzon, \x93there\x92s but one way to arrange it
now, that I see.  Mr. Fitzpatrick, you must know, was arrested this
morning for a trifle of L140.  If you or your friend there, will join us
in the bail we can get him out, and he\x92ll fight you in the morning to
your satisfaction.\x94

When the astonishment this proposal had created subsided, we assured
Mr. O\x92Gorman that we were noways disposed to pay such a price for our
amusement--a fact that seemed considerably to surprise both him and his
friend--and adding, that to Mr. Fitzpatrick personally, we should feel
bound to hold ourselves pledged at a future period, we left the ground,
Curzon laughing heartily at the original expedient thus suggested, and I
inwardly pronounced a most glowing eulogy on the law of imprisonment for
debt.

Before Mr. Fitzpatrick obtained the benefit of the act, we were ordered
abroad, and I have never since heard of him.



CHAPTER XL.

THE TWO LETTERS.

From the digression of the last chapter I was recalled by the sight of
the two letters which lay during my reverie unopened before me.  I first
broke the seal of Lady Callonby\x92s epistle, which ran thus:

     \x93Munich, La Croix Blanche,

     \x93My dear Mr. Lorrequer--I have just heard from Kilkee, that you are
     at length about to pay us your long promised visit, and write these
     few lines to beg that before leaving Paris you will kindly execute
     for me the commissions of which I enclose a formidable list, or at
     least as many of them as you can conveniently accomplish.  Our stay
     here now will be short, that it will require all your despatch to
     overtake us before reaching Milan, Lady Jane\x92s health requiring an
     immediate change of climate.  Our present plans are, to winter in
     Italy, although such will interfere considerably with Lord Callonby,
     who is pressed much by his friends to accept office.  However, all
     this and our other gossip I reserve for our meeting.  Meanwhile,
     adieu, and if any of my tasks bore you, omit them at once, except
     the white roses and the Brussels veil, which Lady Jane is most
     anxious for.

                                   \x93Sincerely yours,
                                             \x93Charlotte Callonby.\x94

How much did these few and apparently common-place lines convey to me?
First, my visit was not only expected, but actually looked forward to,
canvassed--perhaps I might almost whisper to myself the flattery--wished
for.  Again, Lady Jane\x92s health was spoken of as precarious, less actual
illness--I said to myself--than mere delicacy requiring the bluer sky and
warmer airs of Italy.  Perhaps her spirits were affected--some mental
malady--some ill-placed passion--que sais je?  In fact my brain run on
so fast in its devisings, that by a quick process, less logical than
pleasing, I satisfied myself that the lovely Lady Jane Callonby was
actually in love, with whom let the reader guess at.  And Lord Callonby
too, about to join the ministry--well, all the better to have one\x92s
father-in-law in power--promotion is so cursed slow now a-days.  And
lastly, the sly allusion to the commissions--the mechancete of
introducing her name to interest me.  With such materials as these to
build upon, frail as they may seem to others, I found no difficulty in
regarding myself as the dear friend of the family, and the acknowledged
suitor of Lady Jane.

In the midst, however, of all my self-gratulation, my eye fell upon the
letter of Emily Bingham, and I suddenly remembered how fatal to all such
happy anticipations it might prove.  I tore it open in passionate haste
and read--

     \x93My dear Mr. Lorrequer--As from the interview we have had this
     morning I am inclined to believe that I have gained your affections,
     I think that I should ill requite such a state of your feeling for
     me, were I to conceal that I cannot return you mine--in fact they
     are not mine to bestow.  This frank avowal, whatever pain it may
     have cost me, I think I owe to you to make.  You will perhaps say,
     the confession should have been earlier; to which I reply, it should
     have been so, had I known, or even guessed at the nature of your
     feelings for me.  For--and I write it in all truth, and perfect
     respect for you--I only saw in your attentions the flirting habits
     of a man of the world, with a very uninformed and ignorant girl of
     eighteen, with whom as it was his amusement to travel, he deemed it
     worth his while to talk.  I now see, and bitterly regret my error,
     yet deem it better to make this painful confession than suffer you
     to remain in a delusion which may involve your happiness in the
     wreck of mine.  I am most faithfully your friend,

                                        \x93Emily Bingham.\x94

What a charming girl she is, I cried, as I finished the letter; how full
of true feeling, how honourably, how straight-forward: and yet it is
devilish strange how cunningly she played her part--and it seems now that
I never did touch her affections; Master Harry, I begin to fear you are
not altogether the awful lady-killer you have been thinking.  Thus did I
meditate upon this singular note--my delight at being once more \x93free\x94
 mingling with some chagrin that I was jockied, and by a young miss of
eighteen, too.  Confoundedly disagreeable if the mess knew it, thought I.
Per Baccho--how they would quiz upon my difficulty to break off a match,
when the lady was only anxious to get rid of me.

This affair must never come to their ears, or I am ruined; and now, the
sooner all negociations are concluded the better.  I must obtain a
meeting with Emily.  Acknowledge the truth and justice of all her views,
express my deep regret at the issue of the affair, slily hint that I have
been merely playing her own game back upon her; for it would be the devil
to let her go off with the idea that she had singed me, yet never caught
fire herself; so that we both shall draw stakes, and part friends.

This valiant resolution taken, I wrote a very short note, begging an
interview, and proceeded to make as formidable a toilet as I could for
the forthcoming meeting; before I had concluded which, a verbal answer by
her maid informed me, that \x93Miss Bingham was alone, and ready to receive
me.\x94

As I took my way along the corridor, I could not help feeling that among
all my singular scrapes and embarassing situations through life, my
present mission was certainly not the least--the difficulty, such as it
was, being considerably increased by my own confounded \x93amour propre,\x94
 that would not leave me satisfied with obtaining my liberty, if I could
not insist upon coming off scathless also.  In fact, I was not content to
evacuate the fortress, if I were not to march out with all the honours of
war.  This feeling I neither attempt to palliate nor defend, I merely
chronicle it as, are too many of these confessions, a matter of truth,
yet not the less a subject for sorrow.

My hand was upon the lock of the door.  I stopped, hesitated, and
listened.  I certainly heard something.  Yes, it is too true--she is
sobbing.  What a total overthrow to all my selfish resolves, all my
egotistical plans, did that slight cadence give.  She was crying--her
tears for the bitter pain she concluded I was suffering--mingling
doubtless with sorrow for her own sources of grief--for it was clear to
me that whoever may have been my favoured rival, the attachment was
either unknown to, or unsanctioned by the mother.  I wished I had not
listened; all my determinations were completely routed and as I opened
the door I felt my heart beating almost audibly against my side.

In a subdued half-light--tempered through the rose-coloured curtains,
with a small sevres cup of newly-plucked moss-roses upon the table--sat,
or rather leaned, Emily Bingham, her face buried in her hands as
I entered.  She did not hear my approach, so that I had above a minute
to admire the graceful character of her head, and the fine undulating
curve of her neck and shoulders, before I spoke.

\x93Miss Bingham,\x94 said I--

She started--looked up--her dark blue eyes, brilliant though tearful,
were fixed upon me for a second, as if searching my very inmost thoughts.
She held out her hand, and turning her head aside, made room for me on
the sofa beside her.  Strange girl, thought I, that in the very moment
of breaking with a man for ever, puts on her most fascinating toilette
--arrays herself in her most bewitching manner, and gives him a reception
only calculated to turn his head, and render him ten times more in love
than ever.  Her hand, which remained still in mine, was burning as if in
fever, and the convulsive movement of her neck and shoulders showed me
how much this meeting cost her.  We were both silent, till at length,
feeling that any chance interruption might leave us as far as ever from
understanding each other, I resolved to begin.

\x93My dear, dear Emily,\x94 I said, \x93do not I entreat of you add to the misery
I am this moment enduring by letting me see you thus.  Whatever your
wrongs towards me, this is far too heavy a retribution.  My object was
never to make you wretched, if I am not to obtain the bliss, to strive
and make you happy.\x94

\x93Oh, Harry\x94--this was the first time she had ever so called me--\x93how like
you, to think of me--of me, at such a time, as if I was not the cause of
all our present unhappiness--but not wilfully, not intentionally.  Oh,
no, no--your attentions--the flattery of your notice, took me at once,
and, in the gratification of my self-esteem, I forgot all else.  I heard,
too, that you were engaged to another, and believing, as I did, that you
were trifling with my affections, I spared no effort to win your\x92s.  I
confess it, I wished this with all my soul.\x94

\x93And now,\x94 said I, \x93that you have gained them\x94--Here was a pretty sequel
to my well matured plans!--\x93And now Emily\x94--

\x93But have I really done so?\x94 said she, hurriedly turning round and fixing
her large full eyes upon me, while one of her hands played convulsively
through my hair--\x93have I your heart? your whole heart?\x94

\x93Can you doubt it, dearest,\x94 said I, passionately pressing her to my
bosom; and at the same time muttering, \x93What the devil\x92s in the wind now;
we are surely not going to patch up our separation, and make love in
earnest.\x94

There she lay, her head upon my shoulder, her long, brown, waving
ringlets falling loosely across my face and on my bosom, her hand in
mine.  What were her thoughts I cannot guess--mine, God forgive me, were
a fervent wish either for her mother\x92s appearance, or that the hotel
would suddenly take fire, or some other extensive calamity arise to put
the finishing stroke to this embarassing situation.

None of these, however, were destined to occur; and Emily lay still and
motionless as she was, scarce seeming to breathe, and pale as death.
What can this mean, said I, surely this is not the usual way to treat
with a rejected suitor; if it be, why then, by Jupiter the successful one
must have rather the worst of it--and I fervently hope that Lady Jane be
not at this moment giving his conge to some disappointed swain.  She
slowly raised her long, black fringed eyelids, and looked into my face,
with an expression at once so tender and so plaintive, that I felt a
struggle within myself whether to press her to my heart, or--what the
deuce was the alternative.  I hope my reader knows, for I really do not.
And after all, thought I, if we are to marry, I am only anticipating a
little; and if not, why then a \x93chaste salute,\x94 as Winifred Jenkins calls
it, she\x92ll be none the worse for.  Acting at once upon this resolve, I
leaned downwards, and passing back her ringlets from her now flushed
cheek, I was startled by my name, which I heard called several times in
the corridor.  The door at the same instant was burst suddenly open, and
Trevanion appeared.

\x93Harry, Harry Lorrequer,\x94 cried he, as he entered; then suddenly checking
himself, added \x93a thousand, ten thousand pardons.  But--\x94

\x93But what,\x94 cried I passionately, forgetting all save the situation of
poor Emily at the moment, \x93what can justify--\x94

\x93Nothing certainly can justify such an intrusion,\x94 said Trevanion,
finishing my sentence for me, \x93except the very near danger you run this
moment in being arrested.  O\x92Leary\x92s imprudence has compromised your
safety, and you must leave Paris within an hour.\x94

\x93Oh, Mr. Trevanion,\x94 said Emily, who by this time had regained a more
befitting attitude, \x93pray speak out; what is it? is Harry--is Mr.
Lorrequer, I mean, in any danger?\x94

\x93Nothing of consequence, Miss Bingham, if he only act with prudence, and
be guided by his friends.  Lorrequer, you will find me in your apartments
in half an hour--till then, adieu.\x94

While Emily poured forth question after question, as to the nature and
extent of my present difficulty, I could not help thinking of the tact
by which Trevanion escaped, leaving me to make my adieux to Emily as best
I might--for I saw in a glance that I must leave Paris at once.
I, therefore, briefly gave her to understand the affair at the salon
--which I suspected to be the cause of the threatened arrest--and was
about to profess my unaltered and unalterable attachment, when she
suddenly stopped me.

\x93No, Mr. Lorrequer, no.  All is over between us.  We must never meet
again--never.  We have been both playing a part.  Good by--good by: do
not altogether forget me--and once more, Harry good by.\x94

What I might have said, thought, or done, I know not; but the arrival of
Mrs. Bingham\x92s carriage at the door left no time for any thing but
escape.  So, once more pressing her hand firmly to my lips, I said--\x93au
revoir, Emily, au revoir, not good by,\x94 and rushing from the room,
regained my own, just as Mrs. Bingham reached the corridor.



CHAPTER XLI.

MR. O\x92LEARY\x92S CAPTURE.

Does she really care for me? was my first question to myself as I left
the room.  Is this story about pre-engaged affections merely a got up
thing, to try the force of my attachment for her? for, if not, her
conduct is most inexplicable; and great as my experience has been in
such affairs, I avow myself out maneuvered.  While I thought over this
difficulty, Trevanion came up, and in a few words, informed me more fully
upon what he hinted at before.  It appeared that O\x92Leary, much more alive
to the imperative necessity of avoiding detection by his sposa, than of
involving himself with the police, had thrown out most dark and
mysterious hints in the hotel as to the reason of his residence at Paris;
fully impressed with the idea that, to be a good Pole, he need only talk
\x93revolutionary;\x94 devote to the powers below, all kings, czars, and
kaisers; weep over the wrongs of his nation; wear rather seedy
habiliments, and smoke profusely.  The latter were with him easy
conditions, and he so completely acted the former to the life, that he
had been that morning arrested in the Tuilleries gardens, under several
treasonable charges--among others, the conspiracy, with some of his
compatriots to murder the minister of war.

However laughable such an accusation against poor O\x92Leary, one
circumstance rendered the matter any thing but ludicrous.  Although he
must come off free of this grave offence, yet, the salon transaction
would necessarily now become known; I should be immediately involved,
and my departure from Paris prevented.

\x93So,\x94 said Trevanion, as he briefly laid before me the difficulty of my
position, \x93you may perceive that however strongly your affections may be
engaged in a certain quarter, it is quite as well to think of leaving
Paris without delay.  O\x92Leary\x92s arrest will be followed by yours, depend
upon it; and once under the surveillance of the police, escape is
impossible.\x94

\x93But, seriously, Trevanion,\x94 said I, nettled at the tone of raillery he
spoke in, \x93you must see that there is nothing whatever in that business.
I was merely taking my farewell of the fair Emily.  Her affections have
been long since engaged, and I--\x94

\x93Only endeavouring to support her in her attachment to the more favoured
rival.  Is it not so?\x94

\x93Come, no quizzing.  Faith I began to feel very uncomfortable about
parting with her, the moment that I discovered that I must do so.\x94

\x93So I guessed,\x94 said Trevanion, with a dry look, \x93from the interesting
scene I so abruptly trespassed upon.  But you are right; a little bit of
tendresse is never misplaced, so long as the object is young, pretty, and
still more than all, disposed for it.\x94

\x93Quite out; perfectly mistaken, believe me.  Emily not only never cared
for me; but she has gone far enough to tell me so.\x94

\x93Then, from all I know of such matters,\x94 replied he, \x93you were both in a
very fair way to repair that mistake on her part.  But hark! what is
this?\x94  A tremendous noise in the street here interrupted our colloquy,
and on opening the window, a strange scene presented itself to our eyes.
In the middle of a dense mass of moving rabble, shouting, yelling, and
screaming, with all their might, were two gens d\x92armes with a prisoner
between them.  The unhappy man was followed by a rather well-dressed,
middle-aged looking woman, who appeared to be desirous of bestowing the
most covam publico endearments upon the culprit, whom a second glance
showed us was O\x92Leary.

\x93I tell you, my dear madam, you are mistaken,\x94 said O\x92Leary, addressing
her with great sternness of manner and voice.

\x93Mistaken! Never, never.  How could I ever be mistaken in that dear
voice, those lovely eyes, that sweet little nose?\x94

\x93Take her away; she\x92s deranged,\x94 said O\x92Leary to the gens d\x92armes.
\x93Sure, if I\x92m a Pole, that\x92s enough of misfortune.\x94

\x93I\x92ll follow him to the end of the earth, I will.\x94

\x93I\x92m going to the galleys, God be praised,\x94 said O\x92Leary.

\x93To the galleys--to the guillotine--any where,\x94 responded she, throwing
herself upon his neck, much less, as it seemed, to his gratification,
than that of the mob, who laughed and shouted most uproariously.

\x93Mrs. Ram, ain\x92t you ashamed?\x94

\x93He calls me by my name,\x94 said she, \x93and he attempts to disown me.  Ha!
ha! ha! ha!\x94 and immediately fell off into a strong paroxysm of kicking,
and pinching, and punching the bystanders, a malady well known under the
name of hysterics; but being little more than a privileged mode, among
certain ladies, of paying off some scores, which it is not thought decent
to do in their more sober moments.

\x93Lead me away--anywhere--convict me of what you like,\x94 said he, \x93but
don\x92t let her follow me.\x94

The gens d\x92armes, who little comprehended the nature of the scene before
them, were not sorry to anticipate a renewal of it on Mrs. Ram\x92s
recovery, and accordingly seized the opportunity to march on with
O\x92Leary, who turned the corner of the Rue Rivoli, under a shower of
\x93meurtriers\x94 and \x93scelerats\x94 from the mob, that fell fortunately most
unconsciously upon his ears.

The possibility of figuring in such a procession contributed much to the
force of Trevanion\x92s reasonings, and I resolved to leave Paris at once.

\x93Promise me, then, to involve yourself in no more scrapes for
half-an-hour.  Pack every thing you shall want with you, and, by seven
o\x92clock, I shall be here with your passport and all ready for a start.\x94

With a beating brain, and in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, I threw
my clothes hither and thither into my trunk; Lady Jane and Emily both
flitting every instant before my imagination, and frequently an
irresolution to proceed stopping all my preparations for departure, I sat
down musing upon a chair, and half determined to stay where I was, coute
qui coute.  Finally, the possibility of exposure in a trial, had its
weight.  I continued my occupation till the last coat was folded, and the
lock turned, when I seated myself opposite my luggage, and waited
impatiently for my friend\x92s return.



THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, v6

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]


Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.



Volume 6. (Chapter XLII-LV)



Contents:

CHAPTER XLII.
The Journey

CHAPTER XLIII.
The Journey

CHAPTER XLIV.
A Reminscence of the East

CHAPTER XLV.
A Day in the Phoenix

CHAPTER XLVI.
An Adventure in Canada

CHAPTER XLVII.
The Courier\x92s Passport

CHAPTER XLVIII.
A Night in Strasbourg

CHAPTER XLIX.
A Surprise

CHAPTER L.
Jack Waller\x92s Story

CHAPTER LI.
Munich

CHAPTER LII.
Inn at Munich

CHAPTER LIII.
The Ball

CHAPTER LIV.
A Discovery

CHAPTER LV.
Conclusion



CHAPTER XLII.

THE JOURNEY.

Trevanion came at last.  He had obtained my passport, and engaged a
carriage to convey me about eight miles, where I should overtake the
diligence--such a mode of travelling being judged more likely to favour
my escape, by attracting less attention than posting.  It was past ten
when I left the Rue St. Honore, having shaken hands with Trevanion for
the last time, and charged him with ten thousand soft messages for the
\x93friends\x94 I left behind me.

When I arrived at the village of St. Jacques, the diligence had not come
up.  To pass away the time, I ordered a little supper and a bottle of St.
Julien.  Scarcely had I seated myself to my \x93cotelette,\x94 when the rapid
whirl of wheels was heard without, and a cab drew up suddenly at the
door.  So naturally does the fugitive suspect pursuit, that my immediate
impression was, that I was followed.  In this notion I was strengthened
by the tones of a cracked, discordant voice, asking in very peculiar
French if the \x93diligence had passed?\x94  Being answered in the negative he
walked into the room where I was, and speedily by his appearance, removed
any apprehensions I had felt as to my safety.  Nothing could less
resemble the tall port and sturdy bearing of a gendarme, than the
diminutive and dwarfish individual before me.  His height could scarcely
have reached five feet, of which the head formed fully a fourth part; and
even this was rendered in appearance still greater by a mass of loosely
floating black hair that fell upon his neck and shoulders, and gave him
much the air of a \x93black lion\x94 on a sign board.  His black frock,
fur-collared and braided--his ill-made boots, his meerschaum projecting
from his breast-pocket, above all, his unwashed hands, and a heavy gold
ring upon his thumb--all made up an ensemble of evidences that showed he
could be nothing but a German.  His manner was bustling, impatient, and
had it not been ludicrous, would certainly be considered as insolent to
every one about him, for he stared each person abruptly in the face, and
mumbled some broken expressions of his opinion of them half-aloud in
German.  His comments ran on:--\x93Bon soir, Monsieur,\x94 to the host: \x93Ein
boesewicht, ganz sicher\x94--\x93a scoundrel without doubt;\x94 and then added,
still lower, \x93Rob you here as soon as look at you.\x94  \x93Ah, postillion!
comment va?\x94--\x93much more like a brigand after all--I know which I\x92d take
you for.\x94  \x93Ver fluchte fraw\x94--\x93how ugly the woman is.\x94  This compliment
was intended for the hostess, who curtsied down to the ground in her
ignorance.  At last approaching me, he stopped, and having steadily
surveyed me, muttered, \x93Ein echter Englander\x94--\x93a thorough Englishman,
always eating.\x94  I could not resist the temptation to assure him that I
was perfectly aware of his flattering impression in my behalf, though I
had speedily to regret my precipitancy, for, less mindful of the rebuke
than pleased at finding some one who understood German, he drew his chair
beside me and entered into conversation.

Every one has surely felt, some time or other in life, the insufferable
annoyance of having his thoughts and reflections interfered with, and
broken in upon by the vulgar impertinence and egotism of some \x93bore,\x94
 who, mistaking your abstraction for attention and your despair for
delight, inflicts upon you his whole life and adventures, when your own
immediate destinies are perhaps vacillating in the scale.

Such a doom was now mine!  Occupied as I was by the hope of the future,
and my fears lest any impediment to my escape should blast my prospects
for ever, I preferred appearing to pay attention to this confounded
fellow\x92s \x93personal narrative\x94 lest his questions, turning on my own
affairs, might excite suspicions as to the reasons of my journey.

I longed most ardently for the arrival of the diligence, trusting that
with true German thrift, by friend might prefer the cheapness of the
\x93interieure\x94 to the magnificence of the \x93coupe,\x94 and that thus I should
see no more of him.  But in this pleasing hope I was destined to be
disappointed, for I was scarcely seated in my place when I found him
beside me.  The third occupant of this \x93privileged den,\x94 as well as my
lamp-light survey of him permitted, afforded nothing to build on as a
compensation for the German.  He was a tall, lanky, lantern-jawed man,
with a hook nose and projecting chin; his hair, which had only been
permitted to grow very lately, formed that curve upon his forehead we
see in certain old fashioned horse-shoe wigs; his compressed lip and
hard features gave the expression of one who had seen a good deal of the
world, and didn\x92t think the better of it in consequence.  I observed that
he listened to the few words we spoke while getting in with some
attention, and then, like a person who did not comprehend the language,
turned his shoulder towards us, and soon fell asleep.  I was now left to
the \x93tender mercies\x94 of my talkative companion, who certainly spared me
not.  Notwithstanding my vigorous resolves to turn a deaf ear to his
narratives, I could not avoid learning that he was the director of music
to some German prince--that he had been to Paris to bring out an opera
which having, as he said, a \x93success pyramidal,\x94 he was about to repeat in
Strasbourg.  He further informed me that a depute from Alsace had
obtained for him a government permission to travel with the courier; but
that he being \x93social\x94 withal, and no ways proud, preferred the democracy
of the diligence to the solitary grandeur of the caleche, (for which
heaven confound him,) and thus became my present companion.

Music, in all its shapes and forms made up the staple of the little
man\x92s talk.  There was scarcely an opera or an overture, from Mozart to
Donizetti, that he did not insist upon singing a scene from; and wound up
all by a very pathetic lamentation over English insensibility to music,
which he in great part attributed to our having only one opera, which he
kindly informed me was \x93Bob et Joan.\x94  However indisposed to check the
current of his loquacity by any effort of mine, I could not avoid the
temptation to translate for him a story which Sir Walter Scott once
related to me, and was so far apropos, as conveying my own sense of the
merits of our national music, such as we have it, by its association with
scenes, and persons, and places we are all familiar with, however
unintelligible to the ear of a stranger.

A young French viscomte was fortunate enough to obtain in marriage the
hand of a singularly pretty Scotch heiress of an old family and good
fortune, who, amongst her other endowments, possessed a large
old-fashioned house in a remote district of the highlands, where her
ancestors had resided for centuries.  Thither the young couple repaired
to pass their honeymoon; the enamoured bridegroom gladly availing himself
of the opportunity to ingratiate himself with his new connexion, by
adopting the seclusion he saw practised by the English on such occasions.
However consonant to our notions of happiness, and however conducive to
our enjoyment this custom be--and I have strong doubts upon the subject
--it certainly prospered ill with the volatile Frenchman, who pined for
Paris, its cafes, its boulevards, its maisons de jeu, and its soirees.
His days were passed in looking from the deep and narrow windows of some
oak-framed room upon the bare and heath-clad moors, or watching the
cloud\x92s shadows as they passed across the dark pine trees that closed the
distance.

Ennuyee to death, and convinced that he had sacrificed enough and more
than enough to the barbarism which demanded such a \x93sejour,\x94 he was
sitting one evening listlessly upon the terrace in front of the house,
plotting a speedy escape from his gloomy abode, and meditating upon the
life of pleasure that awaited him, when the discordant twang of some
savage music broke upon his ear, and roused him from his reverie. The
wild scream and fitful burst of a highland pibroch is certainly not the
most likely thing in nature to allay the irritable and ruffled feelings
of an irascible person--unless, perhaps, the hearer eschew breeches.  So
thought the viscomte.  He started hurriedly up, and straight before him,
upon the gravel-walk, beheld the stalwart figure and bony frame of an old
highlander, blowing, with all his lungs, the \x93Gathering of the clans.\x94
 With all the speed he could muster, he rushed into the house, and,
calling his servants, ordered them to expel the intruder, and drive him
at once outside the demesne.  When the mandate was made known to the old
piper, it was with the greatest difficulty he could be brought to
comprehend it--for, time out of mind, his approach had been hailed
with every demonstration of rejoicing; and now--but no; the thing was
impossible--there must be a mistake somewhere.  He was accordingly about
to recommence, when a second and stronger hint suggested to him that it
were safer to depart.  \x93Maybe the \x91carl\x92 did na like the pipes,\x94 said the
highlander musingly, as he packed them up for his march.  \x93Maybe he did
na like me;\x94 \x93perhaps, too, he was na in the humour of music.\x94  He paused
for an instant as if reflecting--not satisfied, probably, that he had hit
upon the true solution--when suddenly his eye brightened, his lips
curled, and fixing a look upon the angry Frenchman, he said--\x93Maybe ye
are right enow--ye heard them ower muckle in Waterloo to like the skirl
o\x92 them ever since;\x94 with which satisfactory explanation, made in no
spirit of bitterness or raillery, but in the simple belief that he had
at last hit the mark of the viscomte\x92s antipathy, the old man gathered
up his plaid and departed.

However disposed I might have felt towards sleep, the little German
resolved I should not obtain any, for when for half an hour together I
would preserve a rigid silence, he, nowise daunted, had recourse to some
German \x93lied,\x94 which he gave forth with an energy of voice and manner
that must have aroused every sleeper in the diligence: so that, fain to
avoid this, I did my best to keep him on the subject of his adventures,
which, as a man of successful gallantry, were manifold indeed.  Wearying
at last, even of this subordinate part, I fell into a kind of half doze.
The words of a student song he continued to sing without ceasing for
above an hour--being the last waking thought on my memory.

Less as a souvenir of the singer than a specimen of its class I give here
a rough translation of the well-known Burschen melody called

                           THE POPE

               I.
               The Pope, he leads a happy life,
               He fears not married care, nor strife,
               He drinks the best of Rhenish wine,
               I would the Pope\x92s gay lot were mine.

               CHORUS.
               He drinks the best of Rhenish wine.
               I would the Pope\x92s gay lot were mine.

               II.
               But then all happy\x92s not his life,
               He has not maid, nor blooming wife;
               Nor child has he to raise his hope--
               I would not wish to be the Pope.

               III.
               The Sultan better pleases me,
               His is a life of jollity;
               His wives are many as he will--
               I would the Sultan\x92s throne then fill.

               IV.
               But even he\x92s a wretched man,
               He must obey his Alcoran;
               And dares not drink one drop of wine--
               I would not change his lot for mine.

               V.
               So then I\x92ll hold my lowly stand,
               And live in German Vaterland;
               I\x92ll kiss my maiden fair and fine,
               And drink the best of Rhenish wine.

               VI.
               Whene\x92er my maiden kisses me,
               I\x92ll think that I the Sultan be;
               And when my cheery glass I tope,
               I\x92ll fancy then I am the Pope.



CHAPTER XLIII.

THE JOURNEY.

It was with a feeling of pleasure I cannot explain, that I awoke in the
morning, and found myself upon the road.  The turmoil, the bustle, the
never-ending difficulties of my late life in Paris had so over-excited
and worried me, that I could neither think nor reflect.  Now all these
cares and troubles were behind me, and I felt like a liberated prisoner
as I looked upon the grey dawn of the coming day, as it gradually melted
from its dull and leaden tint to the pink and yellow hue of the rising
sun.  The broad and richly-coloured plains of \x93la belle France\x94 were
before me--and it is \x93la belle France,\x94 however inferior to parts of
England in rural beauty--the large tracts of waving yellow corn,
undulating like a sea in the morning breeze--the interminable reaches of
forest, upon which the shadows played and flitted, deepening the effect
and mellowing the mass, as we see them in Ruysdael\x92s pictures--while now
and then some tall-gabled, antiquated chateau, with its mutilated terrace
and dowager-like air of bye-gone grandeur, would peep forth at the end of
some long avenue of lime trees, all having their own features of
beauty--and a beauty with which every object around harmonizes well.
The sluggish peasant, in his blouse and striped night-cap--the heavily
caparisoned horse, shaking his head amidst a Babel-tower of gaudy worsted
tassels and brass bells--the deeply laden waggon, creeping slowly
along--are all in keeping with a scene, where the very mist that rises
from the valley seems indolent and lazy, and unwilling to impart the rich
perfume of verdure with which it is loaded.  Every land has its own
peculiar character of beauty.  The glaciered mountain, the Alpine peak,
the dashing cataract of Switzerland and the Tyrol, are not finer in their
way than the long flat moorlands of a Flemish landscape, with its clump
of stunted willows cloistering over some limpid brook, in which the oxen
are standing for shelter from the noon-day heat--while, lower down, some
rude water-wheel is mingling its sounds with the summer bees and the
merry voices of the miller and his companions.  So strayed my thoughts as
the German shook me by the arm, and asked if \x93I were not ready for my
breakfast?\x94  Luckily to this question there is rarely but the one answer.
Who is not ready for his breakfast when on the road?  How delightful, if
on the continent, to escape from the narrow limits of the dungeon-like
diligence, where you sit with your knees next your collar-bone, fainting
with heat and suffocated by dust, and find yourself suddenly beside the
tempting \x93plats\x94 of a little French dejeune, with its cutlets, its fried
fish, its poulet, its salad, and its little entre of fruit, tempered with
a not despicable bottle of Beaune.  If in England, the exchange is nearly
as grateful--for though our travelling be better, and our equipage less
\x93genante,\x94 still it is no small alterative from the stage-coach to the
inn parlour, redolent of aromatic black tea, eggs, and hot toast, with a
hospitable side-board of red, raw surloins, and York hams, that would
made a Jew\x92s mouth water.  While, in America, the change is greatest of
all, as any one can vouch for who has been suddenly emancipated from the
stove-heat of a \x93nine-inside\x94 leathern \x93conveniency,\x94 bumping ten miles
an hour over a corduroy road, the company smoking, if not worse; to the
ample display of luxurious viands displayed upon the breakfast-table,
where, what with buffalo steaks, pumpkin pie, gin cock-tail, and other
aristocratically called temptations, he must be indeed fastidious who
cannot employ his half-hour.  Pity it is, when there is so much good to
eat, that people will not partake of it like civilized beings, and with
that air of cheerful thankfulness that all other nations more or less
express when enjoying the earth\x92s bounties.  But true it is, that there
is a spirit of discontent in the Yankee, that seems to accept of benefits
with a tone of dissatisfaction, if not distrust.  I once made this remark
to an excellent friend of mine now no more, who, however, would not
permit of my attributing this feature to the Americans exclusively,
adding, \x93Where have you more of this than in Ireland? and surely you
would not call the Irish ungrateful?\x94  He illustrated his first remark by
the following short anecdote:--

The rector of the parish my friend lived in was a man who added to the
income he derived from his living a very handsome private fortune, which
he devoted entirely to the benefit of the poor around him.  Among the
objects of his bounty one old woman--a childless widow, was remarkably
distinguished.  Whether commiserating her utter helplessness or her
complete isolation, he went farther to relieve her than to many, if not
all, the other poor.  She frequently was in the habit of pleading her
poverty as a reason for not appearing in church among her neighbours;
and he gladly seized an opportunity of so improving her condition, that
on this score at least no impediment existed.  When all his little plans
for her comfort had been carried into execution, he took the opportunity
one day of dropping in, as if accidentally, to speak to her.  By degrees
he led the subject to her changed condition in life--the alteration from
a cold, damp, smoky hovel, to a warm, clean, slated house--the cheerful
garden before the door that replaced the mud-heap and the duck-pool--and
all the other happy changes which a few weeks had effected.  And he then
asked, did she not feel grateful to a bountiful Providence that had
showered down so many blessings upon her head?

\x93Ah, troth, its thrue for yer honour, I am grateful,\x94 she replied, in a
whining discordant tone, which astonished the worthy parson.

\x93Of course you are, my good woman, of course you are--but I mean to say,
don\x92t you feel that every moment you live is too short to express your
thankfulness to this kind Providence for what he has done?\x94

\x93Ah, darlin\x92, it\x92s all thrue, he\x92s very good, he\x92s mighty kind, so he
is.\x94

\x93Why then, not acknowledge it in a different manner?\x94 said the parson,
with some heat--\x93has he not housed you, and fed you, and clothed you?\x94

\x93Yes, alanah, he done it all.\x94

\x93Well, where is your gratitude for all these mercies?\x94

\x93Ah, sure if he did,\x94 said the old crone, roused at length by the
importunity of the questioner--\x93sure if he did, doesn\x92t he take it
out o\x92 me in the corns?\x94



CHAPTER XLIV.

A REMINISCENCE OF THE EAST.

The breakfast-table assembled around it the three generations of men who
issued from the three subdivisions of the diligence, and presented that
motley and mixed assemblage of ranks, ages, and countries, which forms
so very amusing a part of a traveller\x92s experience.

First came the \x93haute aristocratie\x94 of the coupe, then the middle class
of the interieure, and lastly, the tiers etat of the rotonde, with its
melange of Jew money-lenders, under-officers and their wives, a Norman
nurse with a high cap and a red jupe; while, to close the procession, a
German student descended from the roof, with a beard, a blouse, and a
meerschaum.  Of such materials was our party made up; and yet, differing
in all our objects and interests, we speedily amalgamated into a very
social state of intimacy, and chatted away over our breakfast with much
good humour and gaiety.  Each person of the number seeming pleased at the
momentary opportunity of finding a new listener, save my tall companion
of the coupe.  He preserved a dogged silence, unbroken by even a chance
expression to the waiter, who observed his wants and supplied them by a
species of quick instinct, evidently acquired by practice.  As I could
not help feeling somewhat interested about the hermit-like attachment he
evinced for solitude, I watched him narrowly for some time, and at length
as the \x93roti\x94 made its appearance before him, after he had helped himself
and tasted it, he caught my eye fixed upon him, and looking at me
intently for a few seconds, he seemed to be satisfied in some passing
doubt he laboured under, as he said with a most peculiar shake of the
head--\x93No mangez, no mangez cela.\x94

\x93Ah,\x94 said I, detecting in my friend\x92s French his English origin, \x93you
are an Englishman I find.\x94

\x93The devil a doubt of it, darlin\x92,\x94 said he half testily.

\x93An Irishman, too--still better,\x94 said I.

\x93Why then isn\x92t it strange that my French always shows me to be English,
and my English proves me Irish?  It\x92s lucky for me there\x92s no going
farther any how.\x94

Delighted to have thus fallen upon a \x93character,\x94 as the Irishman
evidently appeared, I moved my chair towards his; and finding, however,
he was not half pleased at the manner in which my acquaintance had been
made with him, and knowing his country\x92s susceptibility of being taken by
a story, I resolved to make my advances by narrating a circumstance which
had once befallen me in my early life.

Our countrymen, English and Irish, travel so much now a days, that one
ought never to feel surprised at finding them anywhere.  The instance I
am about to relate will verify to a certain extent the fact, by showing
that no situation is too odd or too unlikely to be within the verge of
calculation.

When the 10th foot, to which I then belonged, were at Corfu, I obtained
with three other officers a short leave of absence, to make a hurried
tour of the Morea, and taking a passing glance at Constantinople--in
those days much less frequently visited by travellers than at present.

After rambling pleasantly about for some weeks, we were about to return,
when we determined that before sailing we should accept an invitation
some officers of the \x93Dwarf\x94 frigate, then stationed there, had given us,
to pass a day at Pera, and pic-nic in the mountain.

One fine bright morning was therefore selected--a most appetizing little
dinner being carefully packed up--we set out, a party of fourteen, upon
our excursion.

The weather was glorious, and the scene far finer than any of us had
anticipated--the view from the mountain extending over the entire city,
gorgeous in the rich colouring of its domes and minarets; while, at one
side, the golden horn was visible, crowded with ships of every nation,
and, at the other, a glimpse might be had of the sea of Marmora, blue and
tranquil as it lay beneath.  The broad bosom of the Bosphorus was sheeted
out like a map before us--peaceful yet bustling with life and animation.
Here lay the union-jack of old England, floating beside the lilies of
France--we speak of times when lilies were and barricades were not--the
tall and taper spars of a Yankee frigate towering above the low timbers
and heavy hull of a Dutch schooner--the gilded poop and curved galleries
of a Turkish three-decker, anchored beside the raking mast and curved
deck of a suspicious looking craft, whose red-capped and dark-visaged
crew needed not the naked creese at their sides to bespeak them Malays.
The whole was redolent of life, and teeming with food for one\x92s fancy to
conjure from.

While we were debating upon the choice of a spot for our luncheon, which
should command the chief points of view within our reach, one of the
party came to inform us that he had just discovered the very thing we
were in search of.  It was a small kiosk, built upon a projecting rock
that looked down upon the Bosphorus and the city, and had evidently, from
the extended views it presented, been selected as the spot to build upon.
The building itself was a small octagon, open on every side, and
presenting a series of prospects, land and seaward, of the most varied
and magnificent kind.

Seeing no one near, nor any trace of habitation, we resolved to avail
ourselves of the good taste of the founder; and spreading out the
contents of our hampers, proceeded to discuss a most excellent cold
dinner.  When the good things had disappeared, and the wine began to
circulate, one of the party observed that we should not think of enjoying
ourselves before we had filled a bumper to the brim, to the health of our
good king, whose birth-day it chanced to be.  Our homeward thoughts and
loyalty uniting, we filled our glasses, and gave so hearty a \x93hip, hip,
hurra,\x94 to our toast, that I doubt if the echoes of those old rocks ever
heard the equal of it.

Scarcely was the last cheer dying away in the distance, when the door of
the kiosk opened, and a negro dressed in white muslin appeared, his arms
and ancles bearing those huge rings of massive gold, which only persons
of rank distinguish their servants by.

After a most profound obeisance to the party, he explained in very
tolerable French, that his master the Effendi, Ben Mustapha Al Halak, at
whose charge (in house rent) we were then resting, sent us greetings, and
begged that if not considered as contrary to our usages, &c. we should
permit him and his suite to approach the kiosk and observe us at our
meal.

Independent of his politeness in the mode of conveying the request, as he
would prove fully as entertaining a sight to us as we could possibly be
to him, we immediately expressed our great willingness to receive his
visit, coupled with a half hint that perhaps he might honour us by
joining the party.

After a half hour\x92s delay, the door was once more thrown open, and a
venerable old Turk entered: he salaamed three times most reverently, and
motioned to us to be seated, declining, at the same time, by a gentle
gesture of his hand, our invitation.  He was followed by a train of six
persons, all splendidly attired, and attesting, by their costume and
manner, the rank and importance of their chief.  Conceiving that his
visit had but one object--to observe our convivial customs--we
immediately reseated ourselves, and filled our glasses.

As one after another the officers of the effendi\x92s household passed
round the apartments, we offered them a goblet of champagne, which they
severally declined, with a polite but solemn smile--all except one, a
large, savage-looking Turk, with a most ferocious scowl, and the largest
black beard I ever beheld.  He did not content himself with a mute
refusal of our offer, but stopping suddenly, he raised up his hands above
his head, and muttered some words in Turkish, which one of the party
informed us was a very satisfactory recommendation of the whole company
to Satan for their heretic abomination.

The procession moved slowly round the room, and when it reached the door
again retired, each member of it salaaming three times as they had done
on entering.  Scarcely had they gone, when we burst into a loud fit of
laughter at the savage-looking fellow who thought proper to excommunicate
us, and were about to discuss his more than common appearance of disgust
at our proceedings, when again the door opened, and a turbaned head
peeped in, but so altered were the features, that although seen but the
moment before, we could hardly believe them the same.  The dark
complexion--the long and bushy beard were there--but instead of the
sleepy and solemn character of the oriental, with heavy eye and closed
lip, there was a droll, half-devilry in the look, and partly open mouth,
that made a most laughable contrast with the head-dress.  He looked
stealthily around him for an instant, as if to see that all was right,
and then, with an accent and expression I shall never forget, said, \x93I\x92ll
taste your wine, gentleman, an it be pleasing to ye.\x94



CHAPTER XLV.

A DAY IN THE PHOENIX.

When we were once more in the coupe of the diligence, I directed my
entire attention towards my Irish acquaintance, as well because of his
apparent singularity, as to avoid the little German in the opposite
corner.

\x93You have not been long in France, then, sir,\x94 said I, as we resumed our
conversation.

\x93Three weeks, and it seems like three years to me--nothing to
eat--nothing to drink--and nobody to speak to.  But I\x92ll go back soon
--I only came abroad for a month.\x94

\x93You\x92ll scarcely see much of the Continent in so short a time.\x94

\x93Devil a much that will grieve me--I didn\x92t come to see it.\x94

\x93Indeed!\x94

\x93Nothing of the kind; I only came--to be away from home.\x94

\x93Oh!  I perceive.\x94

\x93You\x92re quite out there,\x94 said my companion, misinterpreting my meaning.
\x93It wasn\x92t any thing of that kind.  I don\x92t owe sixpence.  I was laughed
out of Ireland--that\x92s all, though that same is bad enough.\x94

\x93Laughed out of it!\x94

\x93Just so--and little you know of Ireland if that surprises you.\x94

After acknowledging that such an event was perfectly possible, from what
I myself had seen of that country, I obtained the following very brief
account of my companion\x92s reasons for foreign travel:

\x93Well, sir,\x94 began he, \x93it is about four months since I brought up to
Dublin from Galway a little chesnut mare, with cropped ears and a short
tail, square-jointed, and rather low--just what you\x92d call a smart hack
for going to cover with--a lively thing on the road with a light weight.
Nobody ever suspected that she was a clean bred thing--own sister to
Jenny, that won the Corinthians, and ran second to Giles for the
Riddlesworth--but so she was, and a better bred mare never leaped the
pound in Ballinasloe.  Well, I brought her to Dublin, and used to ride
her out two or three times a week, making little matches sometimes to
trot--and, for a thorough bred, she was a clipper at trotting--to trot
a mile or so on the grass--another day to gallop the length of the nine
acres opposite the Lodge--and then sometimes, back her for a ten pound
note, to jump the biggest furze bush that could be found--all or which
she could do with ease, nobody thinking, all the while, that the
cock-tailed pony was out of Scroggins, by a \x91Lamplighter mare.\x92  As every
fellow that was beat to-day was sure to come back to-morrow, with
something better, either of his own or a friend\x92s, I had matches booked
for every day in the week--for I always made my little boy that rode, win
by half a neck, or a nostril, and so we kept on day after day pocketing
from ten to thirty pounds or thereabouts.

\x93It was mighty pleasant while it lasted, for besides winning the money,
I had my own fun laughing at the spoonies that never could book my bets
fast enough.  Young infantry officers and the junior bar--they were for
the most part mighty nice to look at, but very raw about racing.  How
long I might have gone on in this way I cannot say; but one morning I
fell in with a fat, elderly gentleman, in shorts and gaiters, mounted on
a dun cob pony, that was very fidgety and hot tempered, and appeared to
give the rider a great deal of uneasiness.

\x93\x91He\x92s a spicy hack you\x92re on, sir,\x92 said I, \x91and has a go in him, I\x92ll
be bound.\x92

\x93\x91I rayther think he has,\x92 said the old gentleman, half testily.

\x93\x91And can trot a bit, too.\x92

\x93\x91Twelve Irish miles in fifty minutes, with my weight.\x92  Here he looked
down at a paunch like a sugar hosghead.

\x93\x91Maybe he\x92s not bad across a country,\x92 said I, rather to humour the old
fellow, who, I saw, was proud of his poney.

\x93\x91I\x92d like to see his match, that\x92s all.\x92  Here he gave a rather
contemptuous glance at my hack.

\x93Well, one word led to another, and it ended at last in our booking a
match, with which one party was no less pleased than the other.  It was
this: each was to ride his own horse, starting from the school in the
Park, round the Fifteen Acres, outside the Monument, and back to the
start--just one heat, about a mile and a half--the ground good, and only
soft enough.  In consideration, however, of his greater weight, I was to
give odds in the start; and as we could not well agree on how much, it
was at length decided that he was to get away first, and I to follow as
fast as I could, after drinking a pewter quart full of Guinness\x92s double
stout--droll odds, you\x92ll say, but it was the old fellow\x92s own thought,
and as the match was a soft one, I let him have his way.

\x93The next morning the Phoenix was crowded as if for a review.  There were
all the Dublin notorieties, swarming in barouches, and tilburies, and
outside jaunting-cars--smart clerks in the post-office, mounted upon
kicking devils from Dycer\x92s and Lalouette\x92s stables--attorney\x92s wives
and daughters from York-street, and a stray doctor or so on a hack that
looked as if it had been lectured on for the six winter months at the
College of Surgeons.  My antagonist was half an hour late, which time I
occupied in booking bets on every side of me--offering odds of ten,
fifteen, and at last, to tempt the people, twenty-five to one against the
dun.  At last, the fat gentleman came up on a jaunting-car, followed by a
groom leading the cob.  I wish you heard the cheer that greeted him on
his arrival, for it appeared he was a well-known character in town, and
much in favour with the mob.  When he got off the car, he bundled into a
tent, followed by a few of his friends, where they remained for about
five minutes, at the end of which he came out in full racing costume
--blue and yellow striped jacket, blue cap and leathers--looking as funny
a figure as ever you set eyes upon.  I now thought it time to throw off
my white surtout, and show out in pink and orange, the colours I had been
winning in for two months past.  While some of the party were sent on to
station themselves at different places round the Fifteen Acres, to mark
out the course, my fat friend was assisted into his saddle, and gave a
short preliminary gallop of a hundred yards or so, that set us all
a-laughing.  The odds were now fifty to one in my favour, and I gave them
wherever I could find takers.  \x91With you, sir, if you please, in pounds,
and the gentleman in the red whiskers, too, if he likes--very well, in
half sovereigns, if you prefer it.\x92  So I went on, betting on every side,
till the bell rung to mount.  As I knew I had plenty of time to spare, I
took little notice, and merely giving a look to my girths, I continued
leisurely booking my bets.  At last the time came, and at the word
\x91Away!\x92 off went the fat gentleman on the dun, at a spluttering gallop,
that flung the mud on every side of us, and once more threw us all
a-laughing.  I waited patiently till he got near the upper end of the park,
taking bets every minute; and now that he was away, every one offered to
wager.  At last, when I had let him get nearly half round, and found no
more money could be had, I called out to his friends for the porter, and,
throwing myself into the saddle, gathered up the reins in my hand.  The
crowd fell back on each side, while from the tent I have already
mentioned came a thin fellow with one eye, with a pewter quart in his
hand: he lifted it up towards me, and I took it; but what was my fright
to find that the porter was boiling, and the vessel so hot I could barely
hold it.  I endeavoured to drink, however: the first mouthful took all
the skin off my lips and tongue--the second half choked, and the third
nearly threw me into an apoplectic fit--the mob cheering all the time
like devils.  Meantime, the old fellow had reached the furze, and was
going along like fun.  Again I tried the porter, and a fit of coughing
came on that lasted five minutes.  The pewter was now so hot that the
edge of the quart took away a piece of my mouth at every effort. I
ventured once more, and with the desperation of a madman I threw down the
hot liquid to its last drop.  My head reeled--my eyes glared--and my
brain was on fire.  I thought I beheld fifty fat gentlemen galloping on
every side of me, and all the sky raining jackets in blue and yellow.
Half mechanically I took the reins, and put spurs to my horse; but before
I got well away, a loud cheer from the crowd assailed me.  I turned, and
saw the dun coming in at a floundering gallop, covered with foam, and so
dead blown that neither himself nor the rider could have got twenty yards
farther.  The race was, however, won.  My odds were lost to every man on
the field, and, worse than all, I was so laughed at, that I could not
venture out in the streets, without hearing allusions to my misfortune;
for a certain friend of mine, one Tom O\x92Flaherty--\x94

\x93Tom of the 11th light dragoons?\x94

\x93The same--you know Tom, then?  Maybe you have heard him mention me
--Maurice Malone?\x94

\x93Not Mr. Malone, of Fort Peak?\x94

\x93Bad luck to him.  I am as well known in connexion with Fort Peak, as the
Duke is with Waterloo.  There is not a part of the globe where he has not
told that confounded story.\x94

As my readers may not possibly be all numbered in Mr. O\x92Flaherty\x92s
acquaintance, I shall venture to give the anecdote which Mr. Malone
accounted to be so widely circulated.



CHAPTER XLVI.

AN ADVENTURE IN CANADA.

Towards the close of the last war with America, a small detachment of
military occupied the little block house of Fort Peak, which, about eight
miles from the Falls of Niagara, formed the last outpost on the frontier.
The Fort, in itself inconsiderable, was only of importance as commanding
a part of the river where it was practicable to ford, and where the easy
ascent of the bank offered a safe situation for the enemy to cross over,
whenever they felt disposed to carry the war into our territory.

There having been, however, no threat of invasion in this quarter, and
the natural strength of the position being considerable, a mere handful
of men, with two subaltern officers, were allotted for this duty--such
being conceived ample to maintain it till the arrival of succour from
head-quarters, then at Little York, on the opposite side of the lake.
The officers of this party were our old acquaintance Tom O\x92Flaherty, and
our newly-made one Maurice Malone.

Whatever may be the merits of commanding officers, one virtue they
certainly can lay small claim to--viz. any insight into character, or at
least any regard for the knowledge.  Seldom are two men sent off on
detachment duty to some remote quarter, to associate daily and hourly for
months together, that they are not, by some happy chance, the very people
who never, as the phrase is, \x93took to each other\x94 in their lives.  The
grey-headed, weather-beaten, disappointed \x93Peninsular\x94 is coupled with
the essenced and dandified Adonis of the corps; the man of literary
tastes and cultivated pursuits, with the empty headed, ill informed
youth, fresh from Harrow or Westminster.  This case offered no exception
to the rule; for though there were few men possessed of more assimilating
powers than O\x92Flaherty, yet certainly his companion did put the faculty
to the test, for any thing more unlike him, there never existed.  Tom all
good humour and high spirits--making the best of every thing--never
non-plussed--never taken aback--perfectly at home, whether flirting with
a Lady Charlotte in her drawing-room, or crossing a grouse mountain in
the highlands--sufficiently well read to talk on any ordinary topic--and
always ready-witted enough to seem more so.  A thorough sportsman,
whether showing forth in the \x93park\x94 at Melton, whipping a trout-stream in
Wales, or filling a country-house with black cock and moor-fowl; an
unexceptionable judge of all the good things in life, from a pretty ancle
to a well hung tilbury--from the odds at hazard to the \x93Comet vintage.\x94
 Such, in brief, was Tom.  Now his confrere was none of these; he had been
drafted from the Galway militia to the line, for some election services
rendered by his family to the government candidate; was of a saturnine
and discontented habit; always miserable about some trifle or other, and
never at rest till he had drowned his sorrows in Jamaica rum--which,
since the regiment was abroad, he had copiously used as a substitute for
whiskey.  To such an extent had this passion gained upon him, that a
corporal\x92s guard was always in attendance whenever he dined out, to
convey him home to the barracks.

The wearisome monotony of a close garrison, with so ungenial a companion,
would have damped any man\x92s spirits but O\x92Flaherty\x92s.  He, however, upon
this, as other occasions in life, rallied himself to make the best of it;
and by short excursions within certain prescribed limits along the river
side, contrived to shoot and fish enough to get through the day, and
improve the meagre fare of his mess-table.  Malone never appeared before
dinner--his late sittings at night requiring all the following day to
recruit him for a new attack upon the rum bottle.

Now, although his seeing so little of his brother officer was any thing
but unpleasant to O\x92Flaherty, yet the ennui of such a life was gradually
wearing him, and all his wits were put in requisition to furnish
occupation for his time.  Never a day passed without his praying ardently
for an attack from the enemy; any alternative, any reverse, had been a
blessing compared with his present life.  No such spirit, however, seemed
to animate the Yankee troops; not a soldier was to be seen for miles
around, and every straggler that passed the Fort concurred in saying that
the Americans were not within four day\x92s march of the frontier.

Weeks passed over, and the same state of things remaining unchanged,
O\x92Flaherty gradually relaxed some of his strictness as to duty; small
foraging parties of three and four being daily permitted to leave the
Fort for a few hours, to which they usually returned laden with wild
turkeys and fish--both being found in great abundance near them.

Such was the life of the little garrison for two or three long summer
months--each day so resembling its fellow, that no difference could be
found.

As to how the war was faring, or what the aspect of affairs might be,
they absolutely knew nothing.  Newspapers never reached them; and whether
from having so much occupation at head-quarters, or that the difficulty
of sending letters prevented, their friends never wrote a line; and thus
they jogged on, a very vegetable existence, till thought at last was
stagnating in their brains, and O\x92Flaherty half envied his companion\x92s
resource in the spirit flask.

Such was the state of affairs at the Fort, when one evening O\x92Flaherty
appeared to pace the little rampart that looked towards Lake Ontario,
with an appearance of anxiety and impatience strangely at variance with
his daily phlegmatic look.  It seemed that the corporal\x92s party he had
despatched that morning to forage, near the \x93Falls,\x94 had not returned,
and already were four hours later than their time away.

Every imaginable mode of accounting for their absence suggested itself to
his mind.  Sometimes he feared that they had been attacked by the Indian
hunters, who were far from favourably disposed towards their poaching
neighbours.  Then, again, it might be merely that they had missed their
track in the forest; or could it be that they had ventured to reach Goat
Island in a canoe, and had been carried down the rapids.  Such were the
torturing doubts that passed as some shrill squirrel, or hoarse night owl
pierced the air with a cry, and then all was silent again.  While thus
the hours went slowly by, his attention was attracted by a bright light
in the sky.  It appeared as if part of the heavens were reflecting some
strong glare from beneath, for as he looked, the light, at first pale and
colourless, gradually deepened into a rich mellow hue, and at length,
through the murky blackness of the night, a strong clear current of flame
rose steadily upwards from the earth, and pointed towards the sky.  From
the direction, it must have been either at the Falls, or immediately near
them; and now the horrible conviction flashed upon his mind that the
party had been waylaid by the Indians, who were, as is their custom,
making a war feast over their victims.

Not an instant was to be lost.  The little garrison beat to arms; and, as
the men fell in, O\x92Flaherty cast his eyes around, while he selected a few
brave fellows to accompany him.  Scarcely had the men fallen out from the
ranks, when the sentinel at the gate was challenged by a well-known
voice, and in a moment more the corporal of the foraging party was among
them.  Fatigue and exhaustion had so overcome him, that for some minutes
he was speechless.  At length he recover sufficiently to give the
following brief account:--

The little party having obtained their supply of venison above Queenston,
were returning to the Fort, when they suddenly came upon a track of feet,
and little experience in forest life soon proved that some new arrivals
had reached the hunting grounds, for on examining them closely, they
proved neither to be Indian tracks, nor yet those made by the shoes of
the Fort party.  Proceeding with caution to trace them backwards for
three or four miles, they reached the bank of the Niagara river, above
the whirlpools, where the crossing is most easily effected from the
American side.  The mystery was at once explained: it was a surprise
party of the Yankees, sent to attack Fort Peak; and now the only thing to
be done was to hasten back immediately to their friends, and prepare for
their reception.

With this intent they took the river path as the shortest, but had not
proceeded far when their fears were confirmed; for in a little embayment
of the bank they perceived a party of twenty blue coats, who, with their
arms piled, were lying around as if waiting for the hour of attack.  The
sight of this party added greatly to their alarm, for they now perceived
that the Americans had divided their force--the foot-tracks first seen
being evidently those of another division.  As the corporal and his few
men continued, from the low and thick brushwood, to make their
reconnaisance of the enemy, they observed with delight that they were not
regulars, but a militia force.  With this one animating thought, they
again, with noiseless step, regained the forest, and proceeded upon their
way.  Scarcely, however, had they marched a mile, when the sound of
voices and loud laughter apprised them that another party was near,
which, as well as they could observe in the increasing gloom, was still
larger than the former.  They were now obliged to make a considerable
circuit, and advance still deeper into the forest--their anxiety hourly
increasing, lest the enemy should reach the Fort before themselves.  In
this dilemma it was resolved that the party should separate--the corporal
determining to proceed alone by the river bank, while the others, by a
detour of some miles, should endeavour to learn the force of the Yankees,
and, as far as they could, their mode of attack.  From that instant the
corporal knew no more; for, after two hours\x92 weary exertion, he reached
the Fort, which, had it been but another mile distant, his strength had
not held out for him to attain.

However gladly poor O\x92Flaherty might have hailed such information under
other circumstances, now it came like a thunderbolt upon him.  Six of his
small force were away, perhaps ere this made prisoners by the enemy;
the Yankees, as well as he could judge, were a numerous party; and he
himself totally without a single adviser--for Malone had dined, and was,
therefore, by this time in that pleasing state of indifference, in which
he could only recognise an enemy, in the man that did not send round the
decanter.

In the half indulged hope that his state might permit some faint exercise
of the reasoning faculty, O\x92Flaherty walked towards the small den they
had designated as the mess-room, in search of his brother officer.

As he entered the apartment, little disposed as he felt to mirth at such
a moment, the tableau before him was too ridiculous not to laugh at.  At
one side of the fire-place sat Malone, his face florid with drinking, and
his eyeballs projecting.  Upon his head was a small Indian skull cap,
with two peacock feathers, and a piece of scarlet cloth which hung down
behind.  In one hand he held a smoking goblet of rum punch, and in the
other a long, Indian Chibook pipe.  Opposite to him, but squatted upon
the floor, reposed a red Indian, that lived in the Fort as a guide,
equally drunk, but preserving, even in his liquor, an impassive, grave
aspect, strangely contrasting with the high excitement of Malone\x92s face.
The red man wore Malone\x92s uniform coat, which he had put on back
foremost--his head-dress having, in all probability been exchanged for
it, as an amicable courtesy between the parties.  There they sat, looking
fixedly at each other; neither spoke, nor even smiled--the rum bottle,
which at brief intervals passed from one to the other, maintained a
friendly intercourse that each was content with.

To the hearty fit of laughing of O\x92Flaherty, Malone replied by a look of
drunken defiance, and then nodded to his red friend, who returned the
courtesy.  As poor Tom left the room, he saw that nothing was to be hoped
for in this quarter, and determined to beat the garrison to arms without
any further delay.  Scarcely had he closed the door behind him, when a
sudden thought flashed through his brain.  He hesitated, walked forward a
few paces, stopped again, and calling out to the corporal, said--

\x93You are certain they were militia?\x94

\x93Yes, sir; quite sure.\x94

\x93Then, by Jove, I have it,\x94 cried O\x92Flaherty.  \x93If they should turn out
to be the Buffalo fencibles, we may get through this scrape better than I
hoped for.\x94

\x93I believe you are right, sir; for I heard one of the men as I passed
observe, \x91what will they say in Buffalo when it\x92s over?\x92.\x94

\x93Send Mathers here, corporal; and do you order four rank and file, with
side-arms to be in readiness immediately.\x94

\x93Mathers, you have heard the news,\x94 said O\x92Flaherty, as the sergeant
entered.  \x93Can the Fort hold out against such a force as Jackson reports?
You doubt; well, so do I; so let\x92s see what\x92s to be done.  Can you
remember, was it not the Buffalo militia that were so tremendously
thrashed by the Delawares last autumn?\x94

\x93Yes, sir, they chased them for two days and nights, and had they not
reached the town of Buffalo, the Delawares would not have left a scalp
in the regiment.\x94

\x93Can you recollect the chief\x92s name--it was Carran--something, eh?\x94

\x93Caudan-dacwagae.\x94

\x93Exactly.  Where is he supposed to be now?\x94

\x93Up in Detroit, sir, they say, but no one knows.  Those fellows are here
to-day, and there to-morrow.\x94

\x93Well then, sergeant, here\x92s my plan.\x94  Saying these words, O\x92Flaherty
proceeded to walk towards his quarters, accompanied by the sergeant, with
whom he conversed for some time eagerly--occasionally replying, as it
appeared, to objections, and offering explanations as the other seemed to
require them.  The colloquy lasted half an hour--and although the veteran
sergeant seemed difficult of conviction, it ended by his saying, as he
left the room,

\x93Well, sir, as you say, it can only come to hard knocks at worst.  Here
goes--I\x92ll send off the scout party to make the fires and choose the men
for the out picquets, for no time is to be lost.\x94

In about an hour\x92s time from the scene I have mentioned, a number of
militia officers, of different grades, were seated round a bivouac fire,
upon the bank of the Niagara river.  The conversation seemed of an angry
nature, for the voices of the speakers were loud and irrascible, and
their gestures evidenced a state of high excitement.

\x93I see,\x94 said one, who seemed the superior of the party--\x93I see well
where this will end.  We shall have another Queenston affair, as we had
last fall with the Delawares.\x94

\x93I only say,\x94 replied another, \x93that if you wish our men to stand fire
to-morrow morning, the less you remind them of the Delawares the better.
What is that noise?  Is not that a drum beating?\x94

The party at these words sprung to their legs, and stood in an attitude
of listening for some seconds.

\x93Who goes there?\x94 sung out a sentinel from his post; and then, after a
moment\x92s delay, added--\x93Pass flag of truce to Major Brown\x92s quarters.\x94

Scarcely were the words spoken, when three officers in scarlet, preceded
by a drummer with a white flag, stood before the American party.

\x93To whom may I address myself?\x94 said one of the British--who, I may
inform my reader, en passant, was no other than O\x92Flaherty--\x93To whom may
I address myself as the officer in command?\x94

\x93I am Major Brown,\x94 said a short, plethoric little man, in a blue uniform
and round hat--\x93And who are you?\x94

\x93Major O\x92Flaherty, of his majesty\x92s fifth foot,\x94 said Tom, with a very
sonorous emphasis on each word--\x93the bearer of a flag of truce and an
amicable proposition from Major-General Allen, commanding the garrison of
Fort Peak.\x94

The Americans, who were evidently taken by surprise at their intentions
of attack being known, were silent, while he continued--

\x93Gentlemen, it may appear somewhat strange that a garrison, possessing
the natural strength of a powerful position--supplied with abundant
ammunition and every muniment of war--should despatch a flag of truce on
the eve of an attack, in preference to waiting for the moment, when a
sharp and well-prepared reception might best attest its vigilance and
discipline.  But the reasons for this step are soon explained.  In the
first place, you intend a surprise.  We have been long aware of your
projected attack.  Our spies have tracked you from your crossing the
river above the whirlpool to your present position.  Every man of your
party is numbered by us; and, what is still more, numbered by our allies
--yes, gentlemen, I must repeat it, \x91allies\x92--though, as a Briton, I
blush at the word.  Shame and disgrace for ever be that man\x92s portion,
who first associated the honourable usages of war with the atrocious and
bloody cruelties of the savage.  Yet so it is: the Delawares of the
hills\x94--here the Yankees exchanged very peculiar looks--\x93have this
morning arrived at Fort Peak, with orders to ravage the whole of your
frontier, from Fort George to Lake Erie.  They brought us the information
of your approach, and their chief is, while I speak, making an infamous
proposition, by which a price is to paid for every scalp he produces in
the morning.  Now, as the general cannot refuse to co-operate with the
savages, without compromising himself with the commander-in-chief,
neither can he accept of such assistance without some pangs of
conscience.  He has taken the only course open to him: he has despatched
myself and my brother officers here\x94--O\x92Flaherty glanced at two privates
dressed up in his regimentals--\x93to offer you terms\x94--

O\x92Flaherty paused when he arrived thus far, expecting that the opposite
party would make some reply; but they continued silent: when suddenly,
from the dense forest, there rung forth a wild and savage yell, that rose
and fell several times, like the pibroch of the highlander, and ended at
last in a loud whoop, that was echoed and re-echoed again and again for
several seconds after.

\x93Hark!\x94 said O\x92Flaherty, with an accent of horror--\x93Hark! the war-cry of
the Delawares!  The savages are eager for their prey.  May it yet be time
enough to rescue you from such a fate!  Time presses--our terms are
these--as they do not admit of discussion, and must be at once accepted
or rejected, to your own ear alone can I impart them.\x94

Saying which, he took Major Brown aside, and, walking apart from the
others, led him, by slow steps, into the forest.  While O\x92Flaherty
continued to dilate upon the atrocities of Indian war, and the revengeful
character of the savages, he contrived to be always advancing towards the
river side, till at length the glare of a fire was perceptible through
the gloom.  Major Brown stopped suddenly, and pointed in the direction of
the flame.

\x93It is the Indian picquet,\x94 said O\x92Flaherty, calmly; \x93and as the facts I
have been detailing may be more palpable to your mind, you shall see them
with your own eyes.  Yes, I repeat it, you shall, through the cover of
this brushwood, see Caudan-dacwagae himself--for he is with them in
person.\x94

As O\x92Flaherty said this, he led Major Brown, now speechless with terror,
behind a massive cork tree, from which spot they could look down upon the
river side, where in a small creek sat five or six persons in blankets,
and scarlet head-dresses; their faces streaked with patches of yellow and
red paint, to which the glare of the fire lent fresh horror.  In the
midst sat one, whose violent gestures and savage cries gave him the very
appearance of a demon, as he resisted with all his might the efforts of
the others to restrain him, shouting like a maniac all the while, and
struggling to rise.

\x93It is the chief,\x94 said O\x92Flaherty; \x93he will wait no longer.  We have
bribed the others to keep him quiet, if possible, a little time; but I
see they cannot succeed.\x94

A loud yell of triumph from below interrupted Tom\x92s speech.  The
infuriated savage--who was no other than Mr. Malone--having obtained the
rum bottle, for which he was fighting with all his might--his temper not
being improved in the struggle by occasional admonitions from the red end
of a cigar, applied to his naked skin by the other Indians--who were his
own soldiers acting under O\x92Flaherty\x92s orders.

\x93Now,\x94 said Tom, \x93that you have convinced yourself, and can satisfy your
brother officers, will you take your chance? or will you accept the
honoured terms of the General--pile your arms, and retreat beyond the
river before day-break?  Your muskets and ammunition will offer a bribe
to the cupidity of the savage, and delay his pursuit till you can reach
some place of safety.\x94

Major Brown heard the proposal in silence, and at last determined upon
consulting his brother officers.

\x93I have outstaid my time,\x94 said O\x92Flaherty, \x93but stop; the lives of so
many are at stake, I consent.\x94  Saying which, they walked on without
speaking, till they arrived where the others were standing around the
watch-fire.

As Brown retired to consult with the officers, Tom heard with pleasure
how much his two companions had worked upon the Yankees\x92 fears, during
his absence, by details of the vindictive feelings of the Delawares, and
their vows to annihilate the Buffalo militia.

Before five minutes they had decided.  Upon a solemn pledge from
O\x92Flaherty that the terms of the compact were to be observed as he stated
them, they agreed to march with their arms to the ford, where, having
piled them, they were to cross over, and make the best of their way home.

By sunrise the next morning, all that remained of the threatened attack
on Fort Peak, were the smouldering ashes of some wood fires--eighty
muskets piled in the fort--and the yellow ochre, and red stripes that
still adorned the countenance of the late Indian chief,--but now snoring
Lieutenant Maurice Malone.



CHAPTER XLVII.

THE COURIER\x92S PASSPORT.

A second night succeeded the long dreary day of the diligence, and the
only one agreeable reflection arose in the feeling that every mile
travelled, was diminishing the chance of pursuit, and removing me still
further from that scene of trouble and annoyance that was soon to furnish
gossip for Paris--under the title of \x93The Affaire O\x92Leary.\x94

How he was ever to extricate himself from the numerous and embarrassing
difficulties of his position, gave me, I confess, less uneasiness than
the uncertainty of my own fortunes.  Luck seemed ever to befriend him--me
it had always accompanied far enough through life to make its subsequent
desertion more painful.  How far I should blame myself for this,
I stopped not to consider; but brooded over the fact in a melancholy
and discontented mood.  The one thought uppermost in my mind was, how
will Lady Jane receive me--am I forgotten--or am I only remembered as
the subject of that unlucky mistake, when, under the guise of an elder
son, I was feted and made much of.  What pretensions I had, without
fortune, rank, influence, or even expectations of any kind, to seek the
hand of the most beautiful girl of the day, with the largest fortune as
her dowry, I dare not ask myself--the reply would have dashed all my
hopes, and my pursuit would have at once been abandoned.  \x93Tell the
people you are an excellent preacher,\x94 was the advice of an old and
learned divine to a younger and less experienced one--\x93tell them so every
morning, and every noon, and every evening, and at last they will begin
to believe it.\x94  So thought I.  I shall impress upon the Callonbys that
I am a most unexceptionable \x93parti.\x94  Upon every occasion they shall hear
it--as they open their newspapers at breakfast--as they sip their soup at
luncheon--as they adjust their napkin at dinner--as they chat over their
wine at night.  My influence in the house shall be unbounded--my
pleasures consulted--my dislikes remembered.  The people in favour with
me shall dine there three times a-week--those less fortunate shall be put
into schedule A.  My opinions on all subjects shall be a law--whether I
pronounce upon politics, or discuss a dinner: and all this I shall
accomplish by a successful flattery of my lady--a little bullying of my
lord--a devoted attention to the youngest sister--a special cultivation
of Kilkee--and a very \x93prononce\x94 neglect of Lady Jane.  These were my
half-waking thoughts, as the heavy diligence rumbled over the pave into
Nancy; and I was aroused by the door being suddenly jerked open, and a
bronzed face, with a black beard and moustache, being thrust in amongst
us.

\x93Your passports, Messieurs,\x94 as a lantern was held up in succession
across our faces, and we handed forth our crumpled and worn papers to the
official.

The night was stormy and dark--gusts of wind sweeping along, bearing with
them the tail of some thunder cloud--mingling their sounds with a falling
tile from the roofs, or a broken chimney-pot.  The officer in vain
endeavoured to hold open the passports while he inscribed his name; and
just as the last scrawl was completed, the lantern went out.  Muttering a
heavy curse upon the weather, he thrust them in upon us en masse, and,
banging the door to, called out to the conducteur, \x93en route.\x94

Again we rumbled on, and, ere we cleared the last lamps of the town, the
whole party were once more sunk in sleep, save myself.  Hour after hour
rolled by, the rain pattering upon the roof, and the heavy plash of the
horses\x92 feet contributing their mournful sounds to the melancholy that
was stealing over me.  At length we drew up at the door of a little
auberge; and, by the noise and bustle without, I perceived there was a
change of horses.  Anxious to stretch my legs, and relieve, if even for a
moment, the wearisome monotony of the night, I got out and strode into
the little parlour of the inn.  There was a cheerful fire in an open
stove, beside which stood a portly figure in a sheepskin bunta and a
cloth travelling cap, with a gold band; his legs were cased in high
Russia leather boots, all evident signs of the profession of the wearer,
had even his haste at supper not bespoke the fact that he was a
government courier.

\x93You had better make haste with the horses, Antoine, if you don\x92t wish
the postmaster to hear of it,\x94 said he, as I entered, his mouth filled
with pie crust and vin de Beaune, as he spoke.

A lumbering peasant, with a blouse, sabots, and a striped nightcap,
replied in some unknown patois; when the courier again said--

\x93Well, then, take the diligence horses; I must get on at all events; they
are not so presse, I\x92ll be bound; besides it will save the gens-d\x92armes
some miles of a ride if they overtake them here.\x94

\x93Have we another vise of our passports here, then?\x94 said I, addressing
the courier, \x93for we have already been examined at Nancy?\x94

\x93Not exactly a vise,\x94 said the courier, eyeing me most suspiciously as
he spoke, and then continuing to eat with his former voracity.

\x93Then, what, may I ask, have we to do with the gens-d\x92armes?\x94

\x93It is a search,\x94 said the courier, gruffly, and with the air of one who
desired no further questioning.

I immediately ordered a bottle of Burgundy, and filling the large goblet
before him, said, with much respect,

\x93A votre bonne voyage, Monsier le Courier.\x94

To this he at once replied, by taking off his cap and bowing politely as
he drank off the wine.

\x93Have we any runaway felon or a stray galerien among us?\x94 said I,
laughingly, \x93that they are going to search us?\x94

\x93No, monsieur,\x94 said the courier; \x93but there has been a government order
to arrest a person on this road connected with the dreadful Polish plot,
that has just eclated at Paris.  I passed a vidette of cavalry at Nancy,
and they will be up here in half an hour.\x94

\x93A Polish plot!  Why, I left Paris only two days ago, and never heard of
it.\x94

\x93C\x92est bien possible, Monsieur?  Perhaps, after all, it may only be an
affair of the police; but they have certainly arrested one prisoner at
Meurice, charged with this, as well as the attempt to rob Frascati, and
murder the croupier.\x94

\x93Alas,\x94 said I, with a half-suppressed groan, \x93it is too true; that
infernal fellow O\x92Leary has ruined me, and I shall be brought back to
Paris, and only taken from prison to meet the open shame and ignominy of
a public trial.\x94

What was to be done?--every moment was precious.  I walked to the door to
conceal my agitation.  All was dark and gloomy.  The thought of escape
was my only one; but how to accomplish it!  Every stir without suggested
to my anxious mind the approaching tread of horses--every rattle of the
harness seemed like the clink of accoutrements.

While I yet hesitated, I felt that my fate was in the balance.
Concealment where I was, was impossible; there were no means of
obtaining horses to proceed.  My last only hope then rested in the
courier; he perhaps might be bribed to assist me at this juncture.
Still his impression as to the enormity of the crime imputed, might
deter him; and there was no time for explanation, if even he would listen
to it.  I returned to the room; he had finished his meal, and was now
engaged in all the preparations for encountering a wet and dreary night.
I hesitated; my fears that if he should refuse my offers, all chance of
my escape was gone, deterred me for a moment.  At length as he wound a
large woollen shawl around his throat, and seemed to have completed his
costume, I summoned nerve for the effort, and with as much boldness in my
manner as I could muster, said--

\x93Monsieur le Courier, one word with you.\x94  I here closed the door, and
continued.  \x93My fortunes--my whole prospects in life depend upon my
reaching Strasbourg by to-morrow night.  You alone can be the means of my
doing so.  Is there any price you can mention, for which you will render
me this service?--if so, name it.\x94

\x93So then, Monsieur,\x94 said the Courier, slowly--\x93so, then, you are the--\x94

\x93You have guessed it,\x94 said I, interrupting.  \x93Do you accept my
proposal?\x94

\x93It is impossible,\x94 said he, \x93utterly impossible; for even should I be
disposed to run the risk on my own account, it would avail you nothing;
the first town we entered your passport would be demanded, and not being
vised by the minister to travel en courier, you would at once be detained
and arrested.\x94

\x93Then am I lost,\x94 said I, throwing myself upon a chair; at the same
instant my passport, which I carried in my breast pocket, fell out at the
feet of the courier.  He lifted it and opened it leisurely.  So engrossed
was I by my misfortunes, that for some minutes I did not perceive, that
as he continued to read the passport, he smiled from time to time, till
at length a hearty fit of laughing awoke me from my abstraction.  My
first impulse was to seize him by the throat; controlling my temper,
however, with an effort, I said--

\x93And pray, Monsieur, may I ask in what manner the position I stand in
at this moment affords you so much amusement?  Is there any thing so
particularly droll--any thing so excessively ludicrous in my situation
--or what particular gift do you possess that shall prevent me throwing
you out of the window?\x94

\x93Mais, Monsieur,\x94 said he, half stifled with laughter, \x93do you know the
blunder I fell into? it is really too good.  Could you only guess who I
took you for, you would laugh too.\x94

Here he became so overcome with merriment, that he was obliged to sit
down, which he did opposite to me, and actually shook with laughter.

\x93When this comedy is over,\x94 thought I, \x93we may begin to understand each
other.\x94  Seeing no prospect of this, I became at length impatient, and
jumping on my legs, said--

\x93Enough, sir, quite enough of this foolery.  Believe me, you have every
reason to be thankful that my present embarrassment should so far engross
me, that I cannot afford time to give you a thrashing.\x94

\x93Pardon, mille pardons,\x94 said he humbly; \x93but you will, I am sure,
forgive me when I tell you that I was stupid enough to mistake you for
the fugitive Englishman, whom the gens-d\x92armes are in pursuit of.  How
good, eh?\x94

\x93Oh! devilish good--but what do you mean?\x94

\x93Why, the fellow that caused the attack at Frascati, and all that, and--\x94

\x93Yes--well, eh?  Did you think I was him?\x94

\x93To be sure I did, till I saw your passport.\x94

\x93Till you saw my passport!\x94  Why, what on earth can he mean? thought I.
\x93No, but,\x94 said I, half jestingly, \x93how could you make such a blunder?\x94

\x93Why, your confused manner--your impatience to get on--your hurried
questions, all convinced me.  In fact, I\x92d have wagered any thing you
were the Englishman.\x94

\x93And what, in heaven\x92s name, does he think me now?\x94 thought I, as I
endeavoured to join the laugh so ludicrous a mistake occasioned.

\x93But we are delaying sadly,\x94 said the courier.  \x93Are you ready?\x94

\x93Ready?--ready for what?\x94

\x93To go on with me, of course.  Don\x92t you wish to get early to
Strasbourg?\x94

\x93To be sure I do.\x94

\x93Well, then, come along.  But, pray, don\x92t mind your luggage, for my
caleche is loaded.  Your instruments can come in the diligence.\x94

\x93My instruments in the diligence!  He\x92s mad--that\x92s flat.\x94

\x93How they will laugh at Strasbourg at my mistake.\x94

\x93That they will,\x94 thought I.  \x93The only doubt is, will you join in the
merriment?\x94

So saying, I followed the courier to the door, jumped into his caleche,
and in another moment was hurrying over the pave at a pace that defied
pursuit, and promised soon to make up for all our late delay.  Scarcely
was the fur-lined apron of the caleche buttoned around me, and the German
blinds let down, when I set to work to think over the circumstance that
had just befallen me.  As I had never examined my passport from the
moment Trevanion handed it to me in Paris, I knew nothing of its
contents; therefore, as to what impression it might convey of me, I was
totally ignorant.  To ask the courier for it now might excite suspicion;
so that I was totally at sea how to account for his sudden change in my
favour, or in what precise capacity I was travelling beside him.  Once,
and once only, the thought of treachery occurred to me.  Is he about to
hand me over to the gens-d\x92armes? and are we now only retracing our steps
towards Nancy?  If so, Monsieur le Courier, whatever be my fate, your\x92s
is certainly an unenviable one.  My reflections on this head were soon
broken in upon, for my companion again returned to the subject of his
\x93singular error,\x94 and assured me that he was as near as possible leaving
me behind, under the mistaken impression of my being \x93myself;\x94 and
informed me that all Strasbourg would be delighted to see me, which
latter piece of news was only the more flattering, that I knew no one
there, nor had ever been in that city in my life; and after about an
hour\x92s mystification as to my tastes, habits, and pursuits, he fell fast
asleep, leaving me to solve the difficult problem as to whether I was not
somebody else, or the only alternative--whether travelling en courier
might not be prescribed by physicians as a mode of treating insane
patients.



CHAPTER XLVIII.

A NIGHT IN STRASBOURG.

With the dawn of day my miseries recommenced; for after letting down the
sash, and venting some very fervent imprecations upon the postillion for
not going faster than his horses were able, the courier once more
recurred to his last night\x92s blunder, and proceeded very leisurely to
catechise me as to my probable stay at Strasbourg, when I should go from
there, &c.  As I was still in doubt what or whom he took me for, I
answered with the greatest circumspection--watching, the while, for any
clue that might lead me to a discovery of myself.  Thus, occasionally
evading all pushing and home queries, and sometimes, when hard pressed,
feigning drowsiness, I passed the long and anxious day--the fear of being
overtaken ever mingling with the thoughts that some unlucky admission of
mine might discover my real character to the courier, who, at any post
station, might hand me over to the authorities.  Could I only guess at
the part I am performing, thought I, and I might manage to keep up the
illusion; but my attention was so entirely engrossed by fencing off all
his threats, that I could find out nothing.  At last, as night drew near,
the thought that we were approaching Strasbourg rallied my spirits,
suggesting an escape from all pursuit, as well as the welcome prospect of
getting rid of my present torturer, who, whenever I awoke from a doze,
reverted to our singular meeting with a pertinacity that absolutely
seemed like malice.

\x93As I am aware that this is your first visit to Strasbourg,\x94 said the
courier, \x93perhaps I can be of service to you in recommending a hotel.
Put up, I advise you, at the \x91Bear\x92--a capital hotel, and not ten
minutes\x92 distance from the theatre.\x94

I thanked him for the counsel; and, rejoicing in the fact that my
prototype, whoever he might be, was unknown in the city, began to feel
some little hope of getting through this scrape, as I had done so many
others.

\x93They have been keeping the \x91Huguenots\x92 for your arrival, and all
Strasbourg is impatient for your coming.\x94

\x93Indeed!\x94 said I, mumbling something meant to be modest.  \x93Who the devil
am I, then, to cause all this fracas?  Heaven grant, not the new
\x91prefect,\x92 or the commander of the forces.\x94

\x93I am told the \x91Zauberflotte\x92 is your favourite opera?\x94

\x93I can\x92t say that I ever heard it--that is, I mean that I could say--well
got up.\x94

Here I floundered on having so far forgot myself as to endanger every
thing.

\x93How very unfortunate!  Well, I hope you will not long have as much to
say.  Meanwhile, here we are--this is the \x91Bear.\x92\x94

We rattled into the ample porte cochere of a vast hotel--the postillion
cracking his enormous whip, and bells ringing on every side, as if the
crown prince of Russia had been the arrival, and not a poor sub. in the
__th.

The courier jumped out, and running up to the landlord, whispered a few
words in his ear, to which the other answered by a deep \x93ah, vraiment!\x94
 and then saluted me with an obsequiousness that made my flesh quake.

\x93I shall make \x91mes hommages\x92 in the morning,\x94 said the courier, as he
drove off at full speed to deliver his despatches, and left me to my own
devices to perform a character, without even being able to guess what it
might be.  My passport, too, the only thing that could throw any light
upon the affair, he had taken along with him, promising to have it vised,
and save me any trouble.

Of all my difficulties and puzzling situations in life, this was
certainly the worst; for however often my lot had been to personate
another, yet hitherto I had had the good fortune to be aware of what and
whom I was performing.  Now I might be any body from Marshal Soult to
Monsieur Scribe; one thing only was certain, I must be a \x93celebrity.\x94
 The confounded pains and trouble they were taking to receive me, attested
that fact, and left me to the pleasing reflection that my detection,
should it take place, would be sure of attracting a very general
publicity.  Having ordered my supper from the landlord, with a certain
air of reserve, sufficient to prevent even an Alsace host from obtruding
any questions upon me, I took my opportunity to stroll from the inn down
to the river side.  There lay the broad, rapid Rhine, separating me, by
how narrow a gulph, from that land, where, if I once arrived, my safety
was certain.  Never did that great boundary of nations strike me so
forcibly, as now when my own petty interests and fortunes were at stake.
Night was fast settling upon the low flat banks of the stream, and
nothing stirred, save the ceaseless ripple of the river.  One fishing
barque alone was on the water.  I hailed the solitary tenant of it, and
after some little parley, induced him to ferry me over.  This, however,
could only be done when the night was farther advanced--it being against
the law to cross the river except at certain hours, and between two
established points, where officers of the revenue were stationed.  The
fisherman was easily bribed, however, to evade the regulation, and only
bargained that I should meet him on the bank before daybreak.  Having
settled this point to my satisfaction, I returned to my hotel in better
spirits; and with a Strasbourg pate, and a flask of Nierensteiner, drank
to my speedy deliverance.

How to consume the long, dreary hours between this time and that of my
departure, I knew not; for though greatly fatigued, I felt that sleep was
impossible; the usual resource of a gossip with the host was equally out
of the question; and all that remained was the theatre, which I happily
remembered was not far from the hotel.

It was an opera night, and the house was crowded to excess; but with some
little management, I obtained a place in a box near the stage.  The piece
was \x93Les Franc Macons,\x94 which was certainly admirably supported, and drew
down from the audience--no mean one as judges of music--the loudest
thunders of applause.  As for me, the house was a great a curiosity as
the opera.  The novel spectacle of some hundred (thousand?) people
relishing and appreciating the highest order of musical genius, was
something totally new and surprising to me.  The curtain at length fell
upon the fifth act.

And now the deafening roar of acclamation was tremendous; and amid a
perfect shout of enthusiasm, the manager announced the opera for the
ensuing evening.  Scarcely had this subsided, when a buzz ran through the
house; at first subdued, but gradually getting louder--extending from the
boxes to the balcone--from the balcone to the parterre--and finally even
to the galleries.  Groups of people stood upon the benches, and looked
fixedly in one part of the house; then changed and regarded as eagerly
the other.

What can this mean? thought I.  Is the theatre on fire?  Something surely
has gone wrong!

In this conviction, with the contagious spirit of curiosity, I mounted
upon a seat, and looked about me on every side; but unable still to catch
the object which seemed to attract the rest, as I was about to resume my
place, my eyes fell upon a well-known face, which in an instant I
remembered was that of my late fellow-traveller the courier.  Anxious to
avoid his recognition, I attempted to get down at once; but before I
could accomplish it, the wretch had perceived and recognised me; and I
saw him, even with a gesture of delight, point me out to some friends
beside him.

\x93Confound the fellow,\x94 muttered I; \x93I must leave this at once, or I shall
be involved in some trouble.\x94

Scarcely was my my resolve taken, when a new burst of voices arose from
the pit--the words \x93l\x92Auteur,\x94 \x93l\x92Auteur,\x94 mingling with loud cries for
\x93Meerberger,\x94 \x93Meerberger,\x94 to appear.  So, thought I, it seems the great
composer is here.  Oh, by Jove!  I must have a peep at him before I go.
So, leaning over the front rail of the box, I looked anxiously about to
catch one hasty glimpse of one of the great men of his day and country.
What was my surprise, however, to perceive that about two thousand eyes
were firmly rivetted upon the box I was seated in; while about half the
number of tongues called out unceasingly, \x93Mr. Meerberger--vive
Meerberger--vive l\x92Auteur des Franc Macons--vive Franc Macons,\x94 &c.
Before I could turn to look for the hero of the scene, my legs were taken
from under me, and I felt myself lifted by several strong men and held
out in front of the box, while the whole audience, rising en masse,
saluted me--yes, me, Harry Lorrequer--with a cheer that shook the
building.  Fearful of precipitating myself into the pit beneath, if I
made the least effort, and half wild with terror and amazement, I stared
about like a maniac, while a beautiful young woman tripped along the edge
of the box, supported by her companion\x92s hand, and placed lightly upon my
brow a chaplet of roses and laurel.  Here the applause was like an
earthquake.

\x93May the devil fly away with half of ye,\x94 was my grateful response, to as
full a cheer of applause as ever the walls of the house re-echoed to.

\x93On the stage--on the stage!\x94 shouted that portion of the audience who,
occupying the same side of the house as myself, preferred having a better
view of me; and to the stage I was accordingly hurried, down a narrow
stair, through a side scene, and over half the corps de ballet who were
waiting for their entree.  Kicking, plunging, buffetting like a madman,
they carried me to the \x93flats,\x94 when the manager led me forward to the
foot lights, my wreath of flowers contrasting rather ruefully with my
bruised cheeks and torn habiliments.  Human beings, God be praised, are
only capable of certain efforts--so that one-half the audience were
coughing their sides out, while the other were hoarse as bull-frogs from
their enthusiasm in less than five minutes.

\x93You\x92ll have what my friend Rooney calls a chronic bronchitis for this,
these three weeks,\x94 said I, \x93that\x92s one comfort,\x94 as I bowed my way back
to the \x93practicable\x94 door, through which I made my exit, with the
thousand faces of the parterre shouting my name, or, as fancy dictated,
that of one of \x93my\x94 operas.  I retreated behind the scenes, to encounter
very nearly as much, and at closer quarters, too, as that lately
sustained before the audience.  After an embrace of two minutes duration
from the manager, I ran the gauntlet from the prima donna to the last
triangle of the orchestra, who cut away a back button of my coat as a
\x93souvenir.\x94  During all this, I must confess, very little acting was
needed on my part.  They were so perfectly contented with their
self-deception, that if I had made an affidavit before the mayor--if
there be such a functionary in such an insane town--they would not have
believed me.  Wearied and exhausted at length, by all I had gone through,
I sat down upon a bench, and, affecting to be overcome by my feelings,
concealed my face in my handkerchief.  This was the first moment of
relief I experienced since my arrival; but it was not to last long, for
the manager, putting down his head close to my ear, whispered--

\x93Monsieur Meerberger, I have a surprise for you--such as you have not had
for some time, I venture to say\x94--

\x93I defy you on this head,\x94 thought I.  \x93If they make me out king Solomon
now, it will not amaze me\x94--

\x93And when I tell you my secret,\x94 continued he, \x93you will acknowledge I
cannot be of a very jealous disposition.  Madame Baptiste has just told
me she knew you formerly, and that--she--that is, you--were--in fact, you
understand--there had been--so to say--a little \x91amourette\x92 between you.\x94

I groaned in spirit as I thought, now am I lost without a chance of
escape--the devil take her reminiscences.

\x93I see,\x94 continued le bon mari, \x93you cannot guess of whom I speak; but
when I tell you of Amelie Grandet, your memory will, perhaps, be better.\x94

\x93Amelie Grandet!\x94 said I, with a stage start.  I need not say that I had
never heard the name before.  \x93Amelie Grandet here!\x94

\x93Yes, that she is,\x94 said the manager, rubbing his hands; \x93and my wife,
too\x94--

\x93Married!--Amelie Grandet married!  No, no; it is impossible--I cannot
believe it.  But were it true--true, mark me--for worlds would I not meet
her.\x94

\x93Comment il est drole,\x94 said the manager, soliloquising aloud; \x93for my
wife takes it much easier, seeing they never met each other since they
were fifteen.\x94

\x93Ho, ho!\x94 thought I, \x93the affair is not so bad either--time makes great
changes in that space.\x94  \x93And does she still remember me?\x94 said I, in a
very Romeo-in-the-garden voice.

\x93Why, so far as remembering the little boy that used to play with her in
the orchard at her mother\x92s cottage near Pirna, and with whom she used to
go boating upon the Elbe, I believe the recollection is perfect.  But
come along--she insists upon seeing you, and is this very moment waiting
supper in our room for you.\x94

\x93A thorough German she must be,\x94 thought I, \x93with her sympathies and her
supper--her reminiscences and her Rhine wine hunting in couples through
her brain.\x94

Summoning courage from the fact of our long absence from each other, I
followed the manager through a wilderness of pavilions, forests, clouds
and cataracts, and at length arrived at a little door, at which he
knocked gently.

\x93Come in,\x94 said a soft voice inside.  We opened, and beheld a very
beautiful young woman, in Tyrolese costume.  She was to perform in the
afterpiece--her low boddice and short scarlet petticoat displaying the
most perfect symmetry of form and roundness of proportion.  She was
dressing her hair before a low glass as we came in, and scarcely turned
at our approach; but in an instant, as if some sudden thought had struck
her, she sprung fully round, and looking at me fixedly for above a
minute--a very trying one for me--she glanced at her husband, whose
countenance plainly indicated that she was right, and calling out,
\x93C\x92est lui--c\x92est bien lui,\x94 threw herself into my arms, and sobbed
convulsively.

\x93If this were to be the only fruits of my impersonation,\x94 thought I, \x93it
is not so bad--but I am greatly afraid these good people will find out a
wife and seven babies for me before morning.\x94

Whether the manager thought that enough had been done for stage effect,
I know not; but he gently disengaged the lovely Amelie, and deposited her
upon a sofa, to a place upon which she speedily motioned me by a look
from a pair of very seducing blue eyes.

\x93Francois, mon cher, you must put off La Chaumiere.  I can\x92t play
to-night.\x94

\x93Put it off!  But only think of the audience, ma mie--they will pull down
the house.\x94

\x93C\x92est possible,\x94 said she, carelessly.  \x93If that give them any pleasure,
I suppose they must be indulged; but I, too, must have a little of my own
way.  I shall not play.\x94

The tone this was said in--the look--the easy gesture of command--no less
than the afflicted helplessness of the luckless husband, showed me that
Amelie, however docile as a sweetheart, had certainly her own way as
wife.

While Le cher Francois then retired, to make his proposition to the
audience, of substituting something for the Chaumiere--the \x93sudden
illness of Madame Baptiste having prevented her appearance,\x94--we began to
renew our old acquaintance, by a thousand inquiries from that long-past
time, when we were sweethearts and lovers.

\x93You remember me then so well?\x94 said I.

\x93As of yesterday.  You are much taller, and your eyes darker; but
still--there is something.  You know, however, I have been expecting to
see you these two days; and tell me frankly how do you find me looking?\x94

\x93More beautiful, a thousand times more beautiful than ever--all save in
one thing, Amelie.\x94

\x93And that is--\x94

\x93You are married.\x94

\x93How you jest.  But let us look back.  Do you ever think on any of our
old compacts?\x94  Here she pulled a leaf from a rose bud in her bouquet,
and kissed it.  \x93I wager you have forgotten that.\x94

How I should have replied to this masonic sign, God knows; but the
manager fortunately entered, to assure us that the audience had kindly
consented not to pull down the house, but to listen to a five act tragedy
instead, in which he had to perform the principal character.  \x93So, then,
don\x92t wait supper, Amelie; but take care of Monsieur Meerberger till my
return.\x94

Thus, once more were we left to our souvenirs, in which, whenever hard
pushed myself, I regularly carried the war into the enemy\x92s camp, by
allusions to incidents, which I need not observe had never occurred.
After a thousand stories of our early loves, mingled with an occasional
sigh over their fleeting character--now indulging a soft retrospect of
the once happy past--now moralising on the future--Amelie and I chatted
away the hours till the conclusion of the tragedy.

By this time, the hour was approaching for my departure; so, after a very
tender leave-taking with my new friend and my old love, I left the
theatre, and walked slowly along to the river.

\x93So much for early associations,\x94 thought I; \x93and how much better pleased
are we ever to paint the past according to our own fancy, than to
remember it as it really was.  Hence all the insufferable cant about
happy infancy, and \x91the glorious schoolboy days,\x92 which have generally no
more foundation in fact than have the \x91Chateaux en Espagne\x92 we build up
for the future.  I wager that the real Amant d\x92enfance, when he arrives,
is not half so great a friend with the fair Amelie as his unworthy
shadow.  At the same time, I had just as soon that Lady Jane should have
no \x91premiers amours\x92 to look back upon, except such as I have performed a
character in.\x94

The plash of oars near me broke up my reflections, and the next moment
found me skimming the rapid Rhine, as I thought for the last time.  What
will they say in Strasbourg to-morrow?  How will they account for the
mysterious disappearance of Monsieur Meerberger?  Poor Amelie Grandet!
For so completely had the late incidents engrossed my attention, that I
had for the moment lost sight of the most singular event of all--how I
came to be mistaken for the illustrious composer.



CHAPTER XLIX.

A SURPRISE.

It was late upon the following day ere I awoke from the long deep sleep
that closed my labours in Strasbourg.  In the confusion of my waking
thoughts, I imagined myself still before a crowded and enthusiastic
audience--the glare of the foot-lights--the crash of the orchestra--the
shouts of \x93l\x92Auteur,\x94 \x93l\x92Auteur,\x94 were all before me, and so completely
possessed me, that, as the waiter entered with hot water, I could not
resist the impulse to pull off my night-cap with one hand, and press the
other to my heart in the usual theatrical style of acknowledgments for a
most flattering reception.  The startled look of the poor fellow as he
neared the door to escape, roused me from my hallucination, and awakened
me to the conviction that the suspicion of lunacy might be a still
heavier infliction than the personation of Monsieur Meerberger.

With thoughts of this nature, I assumed my steadiest demeanour--ordered
my breakfast in the most orthodox fashion--eat it like a man in his
senses; and when I threw myself back in the wicker conveniency they call
a caleche, and bid adieu to Kehl, the whole fraternity of the inn would
have given me a certificate of sanity before any court in Europe.

\x93Now for Munich,\x94 said I, as we rattled along down the steep street of
the little town.  \x93Now for Munich, with all the speed that first of
postmasters and slowest of men, the Prince of Tour and Taxis, will afford
us.\x94

The future engrossed all my thoughts; and puzzling as my late adventures
had been to account for, I never for a moment reverted to the past.  \x93Is
she to be mine?\x94 was the ever-rising question in my mind.  The thousand
difficulties that had crossed my path might long since have terminated a
pursuit where there was so little of promise, did I not cherish the idea
in my heart, that I was fated to succeed.  Sheridan answered the ribald
sneers of his first auditory, by saying, \x93Laugh on; but I have it in me,
and by ____ it shall come out.\x94  So I whispered to myself:--Go on Harry.
Luck has been hitherto against you, it is true; but you have yet one
throw of the dice, and something seems to say, a fortunate one in store;
and, if so----, but I cannot trust myself with such anticipations.  I am
well aware how little the world sympathises with the man whose fortunes
are the sport of his temperament--that April-day frame of mind is ever
the jest and scoff of those hardier and sterner natures, who, if never
overjoyed by success, are never much depressed by failure.  That I have
been cast in the former mould, these Confessions have, alas! plainly
proved; but that I regret it, I fear also, for my character for sound
judgment, I must answer \x93No.\x94

               Better far to be
                In utter darkness lying,
               Than be blest with light, and see
                That light for ever flying

is, doubtless, very pretty poetry, but very poor philosophy.  For myself
--and some glimpses of sunshine this fair world has afforded me, fleeting
and passing enough, in all conscience--and yet I am not so ungrateful as
to repine at my happiness, because it was not permanent, as I am thankful
for those bright hours of \x93Love\x92s young dream,\x94 which, if nothing more,
are at least delightful souvenirs.  They form the golden thread in the
tangled web of our existence, ever appearing amid the darker surface
around, and throwing a fair halo of brilliancy on what, without it, were
cold, bleak, and barren.  No, no--

                    The light that lies
                    In woman\x92s eyes,

were it twice as fleeting--as it is ten times more brilliant--than the
forked lightning, irradiates the dark gloom within us for many a long day
after it has ceased to shine upon us.  As in boyhood it is the humanizing
influence that tempers the fierce and unruly passions of our nature, so
in manhood it forms the goal to which all our better and higher
aspirations tend, telling us there is something more worthy than gold,
and a more lofty pinnacle of ambition than the praise and envy of our
fellow-men; and we may rest assured, that when this feeling dies within
us, that all the ideal of life dies with it, and nothing remains save the
dull reality of our daily cares and occupations.  \x93I have lived and have
loved,\x94 saith Schiller; and if it were not that there seems some
tautology in the phrase, I should say, such is my own motto.  If Lady
Jane but prove true--if I have really succeeded--if, in a word--but why
speculate upon such chances?--what pretensions have I?--what reasons to
look for such a prize?  Alas! and alas! were I to catechise myself too
closely, I fear that my horses\x92 heads would face towards Calais, and that
I should turn my back upon the only prospect of happiness I can picture
to myself in this world.  In reflections such as these, the hours rolled
over, and it was already late at night when we reached the little village
of Merchem.  While fresh horses were being got ready, I seized the
occasion to partake of the table d\x92hote supper of the inn, at the door
of which the diligence was drawn up.  Around the long, and not
over-scrupulously clean table, sat the usual assemblage of a German
\x93Eilwagen\x94--smoking, dressing salad, knitting, and occasionally picking
their teeth with their forks, until the soup should make its appearance.
Taking my place amid this motley assemblage of mustachioed shopkeepers
and voluminously-petticoated frows, I sat calculating how long human
patience could endure such companionship, when my attention was aroused
by hearing a person near me narrate to his friend the circumstances of my
debut at Strasbourg, with certain marginal notes of his own that not a
little surprised me.

\x93And so it turned out not to be Meerberger, after all,\x94: said the
listener.

\x93Of course not,\x94 replied the other.  \x93Meerberger\x92s passport was stolen
from him in the diligence by this English escroc, and the consequence
was, that our poor countryman was arrested, the other passport being
found upon him; while the Englishman, proceeding to Strasbourg, took his
benefit at the opera, and walked away with above twelve thousand florins.

\x93Sappermint\x94 said the other, tossing off his beer.  \x93He must have been a
clever fellow, though, to lead the orchestra in the Franc Macons.\x94

\x93That is the most astonishing part of all; for they say in Strasbourg
that his performance upon the violin was far finer than Paganini\x92s; but
there seems some secret in it, after all: for Madame Baptiste swears that
he is Meerberger; and in fact the matter is far from being cleared up
--nor can it be till he is apprehended.\x94

\x93Which shall not be for some time to come,\x94 said I to myself, as,
slipping noiselessly from the room, I regained my \x93caleche,\x94 and in ten
minutes more was proceeding on my journey.  So much for correct
information, thought I.  One thing, however, is certain--to the chance
interchange of passports I owe my safety, with the additional
satisfaction that my little German acquaintance is reaping a pleasant
retribution for all his worry and annoyance of me in the coupe.

Only he who has toiled over the weary miles of a long journey
--exclusively occupied with one thought--one overpowering feeling--can
adequately commiserate my impatient anxiety as the days rolled slowly
over on the long tiresome road that leads from the Rhine to the south of
Germany.

The morning was breaking on the fourth day of my journey as the tall
spires of Munich rose to my view, amid the dull and arid desert of sand
that city is placed in.  At last! was my exclamation as the postilion
tapped at the window with his whip, and then pointed towards the city.
At last!  Oh! what would be the extacy of my feelings now could I
exchange the torturing anxieties of suspense for the glorious certainty
my heart throbs for; now my journey is nearing its end to see me claim as
my own what I now barely aspire to in the sanguine hope of a heart that
will not despair.  But cheer up, Harry.  It is a noble stake you play
for; and it is ever the bold gambler that wins.  Scarcely was this
reflection made half aloud, when a sudden shock threw me from my seat.
I fell towards the door, which, bursting open, launched me out upon the
road, at the same moment that the broken axletree of the caleche had
upset it on the opposite side, carrying one horse along with it, and
leaving the other with the postillion on his back, kicking and plunging
with all his might.  After assisting the frightened fellow to dismount,
and having cut the traces of the restive animal, I then perceived that in
the melee I had not escaped scatheless.  I could barely stand; and, on
passing my hand upon my instep, perceived I had sprained my ancle in the
fall.  The day was only breaking, no one was in sight, so that after a
few minutes\x92 consideration, the best thing to do, appeared to get the
other horse upon his legs, and despatching the postillion to Munich,
then about three leagues distant, for a carriage, wait patiently on the
road-side for his return.  No sooner was the resolve made than carried
into execution; and in less than a quarter of an hour from the moment of
the accident, I was seated upon the bank, watching the retiring figure of
the postillion, as he disappeared down a hill, on his way to Munich.
When the momentary burst of impatience was over, I could not help
congratulating myself, that I was so far fortunate in reaching the end of
my journey ere the mischance befell me.  Had it occurred at Stuttgard I
really think that it would have half driven me distracted.

I was not long in my present situation till a number of peasants, with
broad-brimmed hats, and many-buttoned coats, passed on their way to work;
they all saluted me respectfully; but although they saw the broken
carriage, and might well guess at the nature of my accident, yet not
one ever thought of proffering his services, or even indulging curiosity,
by way of inquiry.  \x93How thoroughly German,\x94 thought I; \x93these people are
the Turks of Europe, stupified with tobacco and \x91starkes bier.\x92  They
have no thought for any thing but themselves, and their own immediate
occupations.\x94  Perceiving at length one whose better dress and more
intelligent look bespoke a rank above the common, I made the effort with
such \x93platt deutsch,\x94 as I could muster, to ask if there were any house
near, where I could remain till the postillion\x92s return? and learned
greatly to my gratification, that by taking the path which led through a
grove of pine trees near me, I should find a chateau; but who was the
proprietor he knew not; indeed the people were only newly come, and he
believed were foreigners.  English he thought.  Oh, how my heart jumped
as I said, \x93can they be the Callonbys; are they many in family; are there
ladies--young ladies, among them?\x94--he knew not.  Having hastily arranged
with my new friend to watch the carriage till my return, I took the path
he showed me, and smarting with pain at every step, hurried along as best
I could towards the chateau.  I had not walked many minutes, when a break
in the wood gave me a view of the old mansion, and at once dispelled the
illusion that was momentarily gaining upon me.  \x93They could not be the
Callonbys.\x94  The house was old; and though it had once been a fine and
handsome structure, exhibited now abundant traces of decay; the rich
cornices which supported the roof had fallen in many places, and lay in
fragments upon the terrace beneath; the portico of the door was half
tumbling; and the architraves of the windows were broken and dismantled;
the tall and once richly ornamented chimnies, were bereft of all their
tracery, and stood bolt upright in all their nakedness above the high
pitched roof.  A straggling \x93jet d\x92eau\x94 was vigorously fighting its way
amid a mass of creeping shrubs and luxuriant lichens that had grown
around and above a richly carved fountain, and fell in a shower of
sparkling dew upon the rank grass and tall weeds around.  The gentle
murmur was the only sound that broke the stillness of the morning.

A few deities in lead and stone, mutilated and broken, stood like the
Genii loci, guarding the desolation about them, where an old,
superannuated peacock, with dropping, ragged tail was the only living
thing to be seen.  All bespoke the wreck of what once was great and
noble, and all plainly told me that such could not be the abode of the
Callonbys.

Half doubting that the house were inhabited, and half scrupling if so to
disturb its inmates from their rest, I sat down upon the terrace steps
and fell into a fit of musing on the objects about.  That strange
propensity of my countrymen to settle down in remote and unfrequented
spots upon the continent, had never struck me so forcibly; for although
unquestionably there were evident traces of the former grandeur of the
place, yet it was a long past greatness; and in the dilapidated walls,
broken statues, weed grown walls, and dark and tangled pine grove, there
were more hints for sadness than I should willingly surround myself by in
a residence.  The harsh grating of a heavy door behind roused me; I
turned and beheld an old man in a species of tarnished and worm-eaten
livery, who, holding the door, again gazed at me with a mingled
expression of fear and curiosity.  Having briefly explained the
circumstances which had befallen me, and appealed to the broken caleche
upon the road to corroborate a testimony that I perceived needed such
aid, the old man invited me to enter, saying that his master and mistress
were not risen, but that he would himself give me some breakfast, of
which by this time I stood much in want.  The room into which I was
ushered, corresponded well with the exterior of the house.  It was large,
bleak, and ill furnished; the ample, uncurtained windows; the cold, white
pannelled walls; the uncarpeted floor; all giving it an air of
uninhabitable misery.  A few chairs of the Louis-quatorze taste, with
blue velvet linings, faded and worn, a cracked marble table upon legs
that once had been gilt; two scarcely detectable portraits of a mail-clad
hero and a scarcely less formidable fair, with a dove upon her wrist,
formed the principal articles of furniture in the dismal abode, where so
\x93triste\x94 and depressing did every thing appear, that I half regretted the
curiosity that had tempted me from the balmy air, and cheerful morning
without, to the gloom and solitude around me.

The old man soon re-appeared with a not despicable cup of \x93Cafe noir,\x94
 and a piece of bread as large as a teaspoon, and used by the Germans
pretty much in the same way.  As the adage of the \x93gift horse\x94 is of
tolerably general acceptation, I eat and was thankful, mingling my
acknowledgments from time to time with some questions about the owners of
the mansion, concerning whom I could not help feeling curious.  The
ancient servitor, however, knew little or nothing of those he served; his
master was the honourable baron; but of his name he was ignorant; his
mistress was young; they had not been many months there; they knew no
one--had no visitors--he had heard they were English, but did not know it
himself; they were \x93Gute leute,\x94 \x93good people,\x94 and that was enough for
him.  How strange did all this seem, that two people, young, too, should
separate themselves from all the attractions and pleasures of the world,
and settle down in the dark and dreary solitude, where every association
was of melancholy, every object a text for sad reflections.  Lost in
these thoughts I sat down beside the window, and heeded not the old man
as he noiselessly left the room.  My thoughts ran on over the strange
phases in which life presents itself, and how little after all external
influences have to do with that peace of mind whose origin is within.
The Indian, whose wigwam is beside the cataract, heeds not its thunders,
nor feels its sprays as they fall in everlasting dews upon him; the Arab
of the desert sees no bleakness in those never ending plains, upon whose
horizon his eye has rested from childhood to age.  Who knows but he who
inhabits this lonely dwelling may have once shone in the gay world,
mixing in its follies, tasting of its fascination; and to think that now
--the low murmurs of the pine tops, the gentle rustle of the water
through the rank grass, and my own thoughts combining, overcame me at
length, and I slept--how long I know not; but when I awoke, certain
changes about showed me that some length of time had elapsed; a gay wood
fire was burning on the hearth; an ample breakfast covered the table; and
the broadsheet of the \x93Times\x94 newspaper was negligently reposing in the
deep hollow of an arm chair.  Before I had well thought how to apologize
for the cool insouciance of my intrusion, the door opened, and a tall,
well built man entered; his shooting jacket and gaiters were evidence of
his English origin, while a bushy moustache and most ample \x93Henri quatre\x94
 nearly concealed features, that still were not quite unknown to me; he
stopped, looked steadily at me, placed a hand on either shoulder, and
calling out, \x93Harry--Harry Lorrequer, by all that\x92s glorious!\x94 rushed
from the room in a transport of laughter.

If my escape from the gallows depended upon my guessing my friend, I
should have submitted to the last penalty of the law; never was I so
completely nonplussed.  Confound him what does he mean by running away
in that fashion.  It would serve him right were I to decamp by one of
the windows before he comes back; but hark! some one is approaching.

\x93I tell you I cannot be mistaken,\x94 said the man\x92s voice from without.

\x93Oh, impossible!\x94 said a lady-like accent that seemed not heard by me for
the first time.

\x93Judge for yourself; though certainly the last time you saw him may
confuse your memory a little.\x94

\x93What the devil does he mean by that?\x94 said I, as the door opened, and a
very beautiful young woman came forward, who, after a moment\x92s
hesitation, called out--

\x93True, indeed, it is Mr. Lorrequer, but he seems to have forgotten me.\x94

The eyes, the lips, the tone of the voice, were all familiar.  What! can
it be possible?  Her companion who had now entered, stood behind her,
holding his sides with ill-suppressed mirth; and at length called out--

\x93Harry, my boy, you scarcely were more discomposed the last morning we
parted, when the yellow plush--\x94

\x93By Jove it is,\x94 said I, as I sprang forward, and seizing my fair friend
in my arms, saluted upon both cheeks my quondam flame, Miss Kamworth, now
the wife of my old friend Jack Waller, of whom I have made due mention in
an early chapter of these Confessions.

Were I given a muster roll of my acquaintance to say which of them might
inhabit this deserted mansion, Jack Waller would certainly have been the
last I should have selected--the gay, lively, dashing, high-spirited
Jack, fond of society, dress, equipage, living greatly in the world,
known to and liked by every body, of universal reputation.  Did you want
a cavalier to see your wife through a crush at the opera, a friend in a
duel, a rider for your kicking horse in a stiff steeple chase, a bow oar
for your boat at a rowing match, Jack was your man.  Such then was my
surprise at finding him here, that although there were many things I
longed to inquire about, my first question was--

\x93And how came you here?\x94

\x93Life has its vicissitudes,\x94 replied Jack, laughing; \x93many stranger
things have come to pass than my reformation.  But first of all let us
think of breakfast; you shall have ample satisfaction for all your
curiosity afterwards.\x94

\x93Not now, I fear; I am hurrying on to Munich.\x94

\x93Oh, I perceive; but you are aware that--your friends are not there.\x94

\x93The Callonbys not at Munich!\x94 said I, with a start.

\x93No; they have been at Saltzburgh, in the Tyrol, for some weeks; but
don\x92t fret yourself, they are expected to-morrow in time for the court
masquerade; so that until then at least you are my guest.\x94

Overjoyed at this information, I turned my attention towards madame,
whom I found much improved; the embonpoint of womanhood had still farther
increased the charms of one who had always been handsome; and I could not
help acknowledging that my friend Jack was warrantable in any scheme for
securing such a prize.



CHAPTER L.

JACK WALLER\x92S STORY.

The day passed quickly over with my newly-found friends, whose curiosity
to learn my adventures since we parted, anticipated me in my wish to
learn theirs.  After an early dinner, however, with a fresh log upon the
hearth, a crusty flask of red hermitage before us, Jack and I found
ourselves alone and at liberty to speak freely together.

\x93I scarcely could have expected such would be our meeting, Jack,\x94 said I,
\x93from the way we last parted.\x94

\x93Yes, by Jove, Harry; I believe I behaved but shabbily to you in that
affair; but \x91Love and War,\x92 you know; and besides we had a distinct
agreement drawn up between us.\x94

\x93All true; and after all you are perhaps less to blame than my own
miserable fortune that lies in wait to entrap and disappoint me at every
turn in life.  Tell me what do you know of the Callonbys?\x94

\x93Nothing personally; we have met them at dinner, a visit passed
subsequently between us, \x91et voila tout;\x92 they have been scenery hunting,
picture hunting, and all that sort of thing since their arrival; and
rarely much in Munich; but how do you stand there? to be or not to
be--eh?\x94

\x93That is the very question of all others I would fain solve; and yet am
in most complete ignorance of all about it; but the time approaches which
must decide all.  I have neither temper nor patience for further
contemplation of it; so here goes; success to the Enterprize.\x94

\x93Or,\x94 said Jack, tossing off his glass at the moment, \x93or, as they would
say in Ireland, \x91your health and inclinations, if they be virtuous.\x92\x94

\x93And now, Jack, tell me something of your own fortunes since the day you
passed me in the post-chaise and four.\x94

\x93The story is soon told.  You remember that when I carried off Mary, I
had no intention of leaving England whatever: my object was, after making
her my wife, to open negociations with the old colonel, and after the
approved routine of penitential letters, imploring forgiveness, and
setting forth happiness only wanting his sanction to make it heaven
itself, to have thrown ourselves at his feet \x91selon les regles,\x92 sobbed,
blubbered, blew our noses, and dressed for dinner, very comfortable
inmates of that particularly snug residence, \x91Hydrabad Cottage.\x92  Now
Mary, who behaved with great courage for a couple of days, after that got
low-spirited and depressed; the desertion of her father, as she called
it, weighed upon her mind, and all my endeavours to rally and comfort
her, were fruitless and unavailing.  Each day, however, I expected to
hear something of, or from, the colonel, that would put an end to this
feeling of suspense; but no--three weeks rolled on, and although I took
care that he knew of our address, we never received any communication.
You are aware that when I married, I knew Mary had, or was to have, a
large fortune; and that I myself had not more than enough in the world
to pay the common expenses of our wedding tour.  My calculation was this
--the reconciliation will possibly, what with delays of post--distance
--and deliberation, take a month--say five weeks--now, at forty pounds per
week, that makes exactly two hundred pounds--such being the precise limit
of my exchequer, when blessed with a wife, a man, and a maid, three
imperials, a cap-case, and a poodle, I arrived at the Royal Hotel, in
Edinburgh.  Had I been Lord Francis Egerton, with his hundred thousand a
year, looking for a new \x91distraction,\x92 at any price; or still more--were
I a London shopkeeper, spending a Sunday in Boulogne sur Mer, and trying
to find out something expensive, as he had only one day to stay, I could
not have more industriously sought out opportunities for extravagance,
and each day contrived to find out some two or three acquaintances to
bring home to dinner.  And as I affected to have been married for a long
time, Mary felt less genee among strangers, and we got on famously; still
the silence of the colonel weighed upon her mind, and although she
partook of none of my anxieties from that source, being perfectly
ignorant of the state of my finances, she dwelt so constantly upon this
subject, that I at length yielded to her repeated solicitations, and
permitted her to write to her father.  Her letter was a most proper one;
combining a dutiful regret for leaving her home, with the hope that her
choice had been such as to excuse her rashness, or, at least, palliate
her fault.  It went to say, that her father\x92s acknowledgment of her, was
all she needed or cared for, to complete her happiness, and asking for
his permission to seek it in person.  This was the substance of the
letter, which upon the whole, satisfied me, and I waited anxiously for
the reply.  At the end of five days the answer arrived.  It was thus:--

     \x93\x91Dear Mary,

     \x93\x91You have chosen your own path in life, and having done so, I have
     neither the right nor inclination to interfere with your decision;
     I shall neither receive you, nor the person you have made your
     husband; and to prevent any further disappointment, inform you that,
     as I leave this to-morrow, any future letters you might think proper
     to address, will not reach me.

                              \x93\x91Yours very faithful,
                                        C. Kamworth, Hydrabad Cottage.\x92

\x93This was a tremendous coup, and not in the least anticipated by either
of us; upon me the effect was stunning, knowing, as I did, that our
fast-diminishing finances were nearly expended.  Mary on the other hand,
who neither knew nor thought of the exchequer, rallied at once from her
depression, and after a hearty fit of crying, dried her eyes, and putting
her arm round my neck, said:

\x93\x91Well, Jack, I must only love you the more, since papa will not share
any of my affection.\x92

\x93\x91I wish he would his purse though,\x92 muttered I, as I pressed her in my
arms, and strove to seem perfectly happy.

\x93I shall not prolong my story by dwelling upon the agitation this letter
cost me; however, I had yet a hundred pounds left, and an aunt in
Harley-street, with whom I had always been a favourite.  This thought,
the only rallying one I possessed, saved me for the time; and as fretting
was never my forte, I never let Mary perceive that any thing had gone
wrong, and managed so well in this respect, that my good spirits raised
her\x92s, and we set out for London one fine sunshiny morning, as happy a
looking couple as ever travelled the north road.

\x93When we arrived at the \x91Clarendon,\x92 my first care was to get into a cab,
and drive to Harley-street.  I rung the bell; and not waiting to ask if
my aunt was at home, I dashed up stairs to the drawing-room; in I bolted,
and instead of the precise old Lady Lilford, sitting at her embroidery,
with her fat poodle beside her, beheld a strapping looking fellow, with a
black moustache, making fierce love to a young lady on a sofa beside him.

\x93\x91Why, how is this--I really--there must be some mistake here.\x92  In my
heart I knew that such doings in my good aunt\x92s dwelling were impossible.

\x93\x91I should suspect there is, sir,\x92 drawled out he of the moustache, as he
took a very cool survey of me, through his glass.

\x93\x91Is Lady Lilford at home, may I ask,\x92 said I, in a very apologetic tone
of voice.

\x93\x91I haven\x92t the honor of her ladyship\x92s acquaintance,\x92 replied he in a
lisp, evidently enjoying my perplexity, which was every moment becoming
more evident.

\x93\x91But this is her house,\x92 said I, \x91at least--\x92

\x93\x91Lady Lilford is at Paris, sir,\x92 said the young lady, who now spoke for
the first time.  \x91Papa has taken the house for the season, and that may
perhaps account for your mistake.\x92

\x93What I muttered by way of apology for my intrusion, I know not; but I
stammered--the young lady blushed--the beau chuckled, and turned to the
window, and when I found myself in the street, I scarcely knew whether to
laugh at my blunder, or curse my disappointment.

\x93The next morning I called upon my aunt\x92s lawyer, and having obtained her
address in Paris, sauntered to the \x91Junior Club,\x92 to write her a letter
before post hour.  As I scanned over the morning papers, I could not help
smiling at the flaming paragraph which announced my marriage, to the only
daughter and heiress of the Millionaire, Colonel Kamworth.  Not well
knowing how to open the correspondence with my worthy relative, I folded
the paper containing the news, and addressed it to \x91Lady Lilford, Hotel
de Bristol, Paris.\x92

\x93When I arrived at the \x91Clarendon,\x92 I found my wife and her maid
surrounded by cases and band-boxes; laces, satins and velvets were
displayed on all sides, while an emissary from \x91Storr and Mortimer\x92 was
arranging a grand review of jewellery on a side table, one half of which
would have ruined the Rajah of Mysore, to purchase.  My advice was
immediately called into requisition; and pressed into service, I had
nothing left for it, but to canvass, criticise, and praise, between
times, which I did, with a good grace, considering that I anticipated the
\x91Fleet,\x92 for every flounce of Valenciennes lace; and could not help
associating a rich diamond aigrette, with hard labour for life, and the
climate of New South Wales.  The utter abstraction I was in, led to some
awkward contre temps; and as my wife\x92s enthusiasm for her purchases
increased, so did my reverie gain ground.

\x93\x91Is it not beautiful, Jack?--how delicately worked--it must have taken a
long time to do it.\x92

\x93\x91Seven years,\x92 I muttered, as my thoughts ran upon a very different
topic.

\x93\x91Oh, no--not so much,\x92 said she laughing; \x91and it must be such a hard
thing to do.\x92

\x93\x91Not half so hard as carding wool, or pounding oyster shells.\x92

\x93\x91How absurd you are.  Well, I\x92ll take this, it will look so well in--\x92

\x93\x91Botany Bay,\x92 said I, with a sigh that set all the party laughing, which
at last roused me, and enabled me to join in the joke.

\x93As, at length, one half of the room became filled with millinery, and
the other glittered with jewels and bijouterie, my wife grew weary with
her exertions, and we found ourselves alone.

\x93When I told her that my aunt had taken up her residence in Paris, it
immediately occurred to her, how pleasant it would be to go there too;
and, although I concurred in the opinion for very different reasons, it
was at length decided we should do so; and the only difficulty now
existed as to the means, for although the daily papers teem with \x91four
ways to go from London to Paris;\x92 they all resolved themselves into one,
and that one, unfortunately to me, the most difficult and impracticable
--by money.

\x93There was, however, one last resource open--the sale of my commission.
I will not dwell upon what it cost me to resolve upon this--the
determination was a painful one, but it was soon come to, and before
five-o\x92clock that day, Cox and Greenwood had got their instructions to
sell out for me, and had advanced a thousand pounds of the purchase.  Our
bill settled--the waiters bowing to the ground (it is your ruined man
that is always most liberal)--the post-horses harnessed, and impatient
for the road, I took my place beside my wife, while my valet held a
parasol over the soubrette in the rumble, all in the approved fashion of
those who have an unlimited credit with Coutts and Drummond; the whips
cracked, the leaders capered, and with a patronizing bow to the
proprietor of the \x91Clarendon,\x92 away we rattled to Dover.

\x93After the usual routine of sea sickness, fatigue, and poisonous cookery,
we reached Paris on the fifth day, and put up at the \x91Hotel de Londres,\x92
Place Vendome.

\x93To have an adequate idea of the state of my feelings as I trod the
splendid apartments of this princely Hotel, surrounded by every luxury
that wealth can procure, or taste suggest, you must imagine the condition
of a man, who is regaled with a sumptuous banquet on the eve of his
execution.  The inevitable termination to all my present splendour, was
never for a moment absent from my thoughts, and the secrecy with which I
was obliged to conceal my feelings, formed one of the greatest sources of
my misery.  The coup, when it does come, will be sad enough, and poor
Mary may as well have the comfort of the deception, as long as it lasts,
without suffering as I do.  Such was the reasoning by which I met every
resolve to break to her the real state of our finances, and such the
frame of mind in which I spent my days at Paris, the only really unhappy
ones I can ever charge my memory with.

\x93We had scarcely got settled in the hotel, when my aunt, who inhabited
the opposite side of the \x91Place,\x92 came over to see us and wish us joy.
She had seen the paragraph in the Post, and like all other people with
plenty of money, fully approved a match like mine.

\x93She was delighted with Mary, and despite the natural reserve of the old
maiden lady, became actually cordial, and invited us to dine with her
that day, and every succeeding one we might feel disposed to do so.  So
far so well, thought I, as I offered her my arm to see her home; but if
she knew of what value even this small attention is to us, am I quite so
sure she would offer it?--however, no time is to be lost; I cannot live
in this state of hourly agitation; I must make some one the confidant of
my sorrows, and none so fit as she who can relieve as well as advise upon
them.  Although such was my determination, yet somehow I could not pluck
up courage for the effort.  My aunt\x92s congratulations upon my good luck,
made me shrink from the avowal; and while she ran on upon the beauty and
grace of my wife, topics I fully concurred in, I also chimed in with her
satisfaction at the prudential and proper motives which led to the match.
Twenty times I was on the eve of interrupting her, and saying, \x91But,
madam, I am a beggar--my wife has not a shilling--I have absolutely
nothing--her father disowns us--my commission is sold, and in three
weeks, the \x91Hotel de Londres\x92 and the \x91Palais Royale,\x92 will be some
hundred pounds the richer, and I without the fare of a cab, to drive me
to the Seine to drown myself.\x92

\x93Such were my thoughts; but whenever I endeavoured to speak them, some
confounded fulness in my throat nearly choked me; my temples throbbed, my
hands trembled, and whether it was shame, or the sickness of despair, I
cannot say; but the words would not come, and all that I could get out
was some flattery of my wife\x92s beauty, or some vapid eulogy upon my own
cleverness in securing such a prize.  To give you in one brief sentence
an idea of my state, Harry--know, then, that though loving Mary with all
my heart and soul, as I felt she deserved to be loved, fifty times a day
I would have given my life itself that you had been the successful man,
on the morning I carried her off, and that Jack Waller was once more a
bachelor, to see the only woman he ever loved, the wife of another.

\x93But, this is growing tedious, Harry, I must get over the ground faster;
two months passed over at Paris, during which we continued to live at
the \x91Londres,\x92 giving dinners, soirees, dejeuners, with the prettiest
equipage in the \x91Champs Elysees,\x92 we were quite the mode; my wife, which
is rare enough for an Englishwoman, knew how to dress herself.  Our
evening parties were the most recherche things going, and if I were
capable of partaking of any pleasure in the eclat, I had my share, having
won all the pigeon matches in the Bois de Boulegard, and beat Lord Henry
Seymour himself in a steeple chase.  The continual round of occupation in
which pleasure involves a man, is certainly its greatest attraction
--reflection is impossible--the present is too full to admit any of the
past, and very little of the future; and even I, with all my terrors
awaiting me, began to feel a half indifference to the result in the
manifold cares of my then existence.  To this state of fatalism, for
such it was becoming, had I arrived, when the vision was dispelled in
a moment, by a visit from my aunt, who came to say, that some business
requiring her immediate presence in London, she was to set out that
evening, but hoped to find us in Paris on her return.  I was
thunderstruck at the news, for, although as yet I had obtained no manner
of assistance from the old lady, yet, I felt that her very presence was a
kind of security to us, and that in every sudden emergency, she was there
to apply to.  My money was nearly expended, the second and last
instalment of my commission was all that remained, and much of even that
I owed to trades-people.  I now resolved to speak out--the worst must be
known, thought I, in a few days--and now or never be it.  So saying, I
drew my aunt\x92s arm within my own, and telling her that I wished a few
minutes conversation alone, led her to one of the less frequented walks
in the Tuilleries gardens.  When we had got sufficiently far to be
removed from all listeners, I began then--\x91my dearest aunt, what I have
suffered in concealing from you so long, the subject of my present
confession, will plead as my excuse in not making you sooner my
confidante.\x92  When I had got thus far, the agitation of my aunt was such,
that I could not venture to say more for a minute or two.  At length, she
said, in a kind of hurried whisper, \x91go on;\x92 and although then I would
have given all I possessed in the world to have continued, I could not
speak a word.

\x93\x91Dear John, what is it, any thing about Mary--for heavens sake speak.\x92

\x93\x91Yes,\x92 dearest aunt, \x91it is about Mary, and entirely about Mary.\x92

\x93\x91Ah, dear me, I feared it long since; but then, John, consider she is
very handsome--very much admired--and--\x92

\x93\x91That makes it all the heavier, my dear aunt--the prouder her present
position, the more severely will she feel the reverse.\x92

\x93\x91Oh, but surely, John, your fears must exaggerate the danger.\x92

\x93\x91Nothing of the kind--I have not words to tell you--\x92

\x93\x91Oh dear, oh dear, don\x92t say so,\x92 said the old lady blushing, \x91for
though I have often remarked a kind of gay flirting manner she has with
men--I am sure she means nothing by it--she is so young--and so--\x92

\x93I stopped, stepped forward, and looking straight in my aunt\x92s face,
broke out into a fit of laughter, that she, mistaking for hysterical
from its violence, nearly fainted upon the spot.

\x93As soon as I could sufficiently recover gravity to explain to my aunt
her mistake, I endeavoured to do so, but so ludicrous was the contre
temps, and so ashamed the old lady for her gratuitous suspicions, that
she would not listen to a word, and begged me to return to her hotel.
Such an unexpected turn to my communication routed all my plans, and
after a very awkward silence of some minutes on both sides, I mumbled
something about our expensive habits of life, costly equipage, number of
horses, &c., and hinted at the propriety of retrenchment.

\x93\x91Mary rides beautifully,\x92 said my aunt, drily.\x92

\x93\x91Yes, but my dear aunt, it was not exactly of that I was going to speak,
for in fact--\x92

\x93Oh John,\x92 said she, interrupting--\x91I know your delicacy too well to
suspect; but, in fact, I have myself perceived what you allude to, and
wished very much to have some conversation with you on the subject.\x92

\x93\x91Thank God,\x92 said I to myself, \x91at length, we understand each other--and
the ice is broken at last.\x92

\x93\x91Indeed, I think I have anticipated your wish in the matter; but as time
presses, and I must look after all my packing, I shall say good by for a
few weeks, and in the evening, Jepson, who stays here, will bring you,
\x93what I mean,\x94 over to your hotel; once more, then, good by.\x92

\x93\x91Good by, my dearest, kindest friend,\x92 said I, taking a most tender
adieu of the old lady.  \x91What an excellent creature she is,\x92 said I, half
aloud, as I turned towards home--\x91how considerate, how truly kind--to
spare me too all the pain of explanation.\x92  Now I begin to breathe once
more.  \x91If there be a flask of Johannisberg in the \x93Londres,\x94 I\x92ll drink
your health this day, and so shall Mary;\x92 so saying, I entered the hotel
with a lighter heart, and a firmer step than ever it had been my fortune
to do hitherto.

\x93\x91We shall miss the old lady, I\x92m sure, Mary, she is so kind.\x92

\x93\x91Oh! indeed she is; but then, John, she is such a prude.\x92

\x93Now I could not help recurring in my mind to some of the conversation in
the Tuilleries garden, and did not feel exactly at ease.

\x93\x91Such a prude, and so very old-fashioned in her notions.\x92

\x93\x91Yes, Mary,\x92 said I, with more gravity than she was prepared for, \x91she
is a prude; but I am not certain that in foreign society, where less
liberties are tolerated than in our country, if such a bearing be not
wiser.\x92  What I was going to plunge into, heaven knows, for the waiter
entered at the moment, and presenting me with a large and carefully
sealed package, said, \x91de la part de mi ladi Lilfore,\x92--\x91but stay, here
comes, if I am not mistaken, a better eulogy upon my dear aunt, than any
I can pronounce.\x92

\x93How heavy it is, said I to myself, balancing the parcel in my hand.
\x91There is no answer,\x92 said I, aloud to the waiter, who stood as if
expecting one.

\x93\x91The servant wishes to have some acknowledgment in writing, sir, that it
has been delivered into your own hands.\x92

\x93Jepson entered,--\x91well, George, your parcel is all right, and here is a
Napoleon to drink my health.\x92

\x93Scarcely had the servants left the room, when Mary, whose curiosity was
fully roused, rushed over, and tried to get the packet from me; after a
short struggle, I yielded, and she flew to the end of the room, and
tearing open the seals, several papers fell to the ground; before I could
have time to snatch them up, she had read some lines written on the
envelope, and turning towards me, threw her arms around my neck, and
said, \x91yes Jack, she is, indeed, all you have said; look here,\x92 I turned
and read--with what feeling I leave to you to guess--the following:--

\x93\x91Dear Nephew and Niece,

\x93\x91The enclosed will convey to you, with my warmest wishes for your
happiness, a ticket on the Francfort Lottery, of which I inclose the
scheme.  I also take the opportunity of saying that I have purchased the
Hungarian pony for Mary--which we spoke of this morning.  It is at
Johnston\x92s stable, and will be delivered on sending for it.\x92

\x93\x91Think of that, Jack, the Borghese poney, with the silky tail; mine--Oh!
what a dear good old soul; it was the very thing of all others I longed
for, for they told me the princess had refused every offer for it.\x92

\x93While Mary ran on in this strain, I sat mute and stupified; the sudden
reverse my hopes had sustained, deprived me, for a moment, of all
thought, and it was several minutes before I could rightly take in the
full extent of my misfortunes.

\x93How that crazy old maid, for such, alas, I called her to myself now,
could have so blundered all my meaning--how she could so palpably have
mistaken, I could not conceive; what a remedy for a man overwhelmed with
debt--a ticket in a German lottery, and a cream-coloured pony, as if my
whole life had not been one continued lottery, with every day a blank;
and as to horses, I had eleven in my stables already.  Perhaps she
thought twelve would read better in my schedule, when I, next week,
surrendered as insolvent.

\x93Unable to bear the delight, the childish delight of Mary, on her new
acquisition, I rushed out of the house, and wandered for several hours in
the Boulevards.  At last I summoned up courage to tell my wife.  I once
more turned towards home, and entered her dressing-room, where she was
having her hair dressed for a ball at the Embassy.  My resolution failed
me--not now thought I--to-morrow will do as well--one night more of
happiness for her and then--I looked on with pleasure and pride, as
ornament after ornament, brilliant with diamonds and emeralds, shone in
her hair, and upon her arms, still heightened her beauty, and lit up with
a dazzling brilliancy her lovely figure.--But it must come--and whenever
the hour arrives--the reverse will be fully as bitter; besides I am able
now--and when I may again be so, who can tell--now then be it, said I, as
I told the waiting-maid to retire; and taking a chair beside my wife, put
my arm round her.

\x93\x91There, John dearest, take care; don\x92t you see you\x92ll crush all that
great affair of Malines lace, that Rosette has been breaking her heart to
manage this half hour.\x92

\x93\x91Et puis,\x92 said I.

\x93\x91Et puis.  I could not go to the ball, naughty boy.  I am bent on great
conquest to-night; so pray don\x92t mar such good intentions.\x92

\x93\x91And you should be greatly disappointed were you not to go?\x92

\x93\x91Of course I should; but what do you mean; is there any reason why I
should not?  You are silent, John--speak--oh speak--has any thing
occurred to my--\x92

\x93\x91No, no, dearest--nothing that I know has occurred to the Colonel.\x92

\x93\x91Well then, who is it?  Oh tell me at once.\x92

\x93\x91Oh, my dear, there is no one in the case but ourselves;\x92 so saying,
despite the injunction about the lace, I drew her towards me, and in as
few words, but as clearly as I was able, explained all our circumstances
--my endeavour to better them--my hopes--my fears--and now my bitter
disappointment, if not despair.

\x93The first shock over, Mary showed not only more courage, but more
sound sense than I could have believed.  All the frivolity of her former
character vanished at the first touch of adversity; just as of old,
Harry, we left the tinsel of our gay jackets behind, when active service
called upon us for something more sterling.  She advised, counselled, and
encouraged me by turns; and in half an hour the most poignant regret I
had was in not having sooner made her my confidante, and checked the
progress of our enormous expenditure somewhat earlier.

\x93I shall not now detain you much longer.  In three weeks we sold our
carriages and horses, our pictures, (we had begun this among our other
extravagances,) and our china followed; and under the plea of health set
out for Baden; not one among our Paris acquaintances ever suspecting the
real reason of our departure, and never attributing any monied
difficulties to us--for we paid our debts.

\x93The same day we left Paris, I despatched a letter to my aunt, explaining
fully all about us, and suggesting that as I had now left the army for
ever, perhaps she would interest some of her friends--and she has
powerful ones--to do something for me.

\x93After some little loitering on the Rhine, we fixed upon Hesse Cassel for
our residence.  It was very quiet--very cheap.  The country around
picturesque, and last but not least, there was not an Englishman in the
neighbourhood.  The second week after our arrival brought us letters from
my aunt.  She had settled four hundred a year upon us for the present,
and sent the first year in advance; promised us a visit as soon as we
were ready to receive her; and pledged herself not to forget when an
opportunity of serving me should offer.

\x93From that moment to this,\x94 said Jack, \x93all has gone well with us.  We
have, it is true, not many luxuries, but we have no wants, and better
still, no debts.  The dear old aunt is always making us some little
present or other; and somehow I have a kind of feeling that better luck
is still in store; but faith, Harry, as long as I have a happy home, and
a warm fireside, for a friend when he drops in upon me, I scarcely can
say that better luck need be wished for.\x94

\x93There is only one point, Jack, you have not enlightened me upon, how
came you here?  You are some hundred miles from Hesse, in your present
chateau.\x94

\x93Oh! by Jove, that was a great omission in my narrative; but come, this
will explain it; see here\x94--so saying, he drew from a little drawer a
large lithographic print of a magnificent castellated building, with
towers and bastions, keep, moat, and even draw-bridge, and the walls
bristled with cannon, and an eagled banner floated proudly above them.

\x93What in the name of the Sphynxes is this?\x94

\x93There,\x94 said Jack, \x93is the Schloss von Eberhausen; or, if you like it in
English, Eberhausen Castle, as it was the year of the deluge; for the
present mansion that we are now sipping our wine in bears no very close
resemblance to it.  But to make the mystery clear, this was the great
prize in the Francfort lottery, the ticket of which my aunt\x92s first note
contained, and which we were fortunate enough to win.  We have only been
here a few weeks, and though the affair looks somewhat meagre, we have
hopes that in a little time, and with some pains, much may be done to
make it habitable.  There is a capital chasses of some hundred acres;
plenty of wood and innumerable rights, seignorial, memorial, &c., which,
fortunately for my neighbours, I neither understand nor care for; and we
are therefore the best friends in the world.  Among others I am styled
the graf or count--.\x94

\x93Well, then, Monsieur Le Comte, do you intend favouring me with your
company at coffee this evening; for already it is ten o\x92clock; and
considering my former claim upon Mr. Lorrequer, you have let me enjoy
very little of his society.\x94

We now adjourned to the drawing-room, where we gossipped away till past
midnight; and I retired to my room, meditating over Jack\x92s adventures,
and praying in my heart, that despite all his mischances, my own might
end as happily.



CHAPTER LI.

MUNICH.

The rest and quietness of the preceding day had so far recovered me from
the effects of my accident, that I resolved, as soon as breakfast was
over, to take leave of my kind friends, and set out for Munich.

\x93We shall meet to-night, Harry,\x94 said Waller, as we parted--\x93we shall
meet at the Casino--and don\x92t forget that the Croix Blanche is your
hotel; and Schnetz, the tailor, in the Grande Place, will provide you
with every thing you need in the way of dress.\x94

This latter piece of information was satisfactory, inasmuch as the
greater part of my luggage, containing my uniform, &c., had been left in
the French diligence; and as the ball was patronised by the court, I was
greatly puzzled how to make my appearance.

Bad roads and worse horses made me feel the few leagues I had to go the
most tiresome part of my journey.  But, of course, in this feeling
impatience had its share.  A few hours more, and my fate should be
decided; and yet I thought the time would never come.  If the Callonbys
should not arrive--if, again, my evil star be in the ascendant, and any
new impediment to our meeting arise--but I cannot, will not, think this
--Fortune must surely be tired of persecuting me by this time, and, even to
sustain her old character for fickleness, must befriend me now.  Ah! here
we are in Munich--and this is the Croix Blanche--what a dingy old
mansion!  Beneath a massive porch, supported by heavy stone pillars,
stood the stout figure of Andreas Behr, the host.  A white napkin,
fastened in one button-hole, and hanging gracefully down beside him--a
soup-ladle held sceptre-wise in his right hand, and the grinding motion
of his nether jaw, all showed that he had risen from his table d\x92hote to
welcome the new arrival; and certainly, if noise and uproar might explain
the phenomenon, the clatter of my equipage over the pavement might have
risen the dead.

While my postillion was endeavouring, by mighty efforts, with a heavy
stone, to turn the handle of the door, and thus liberate me from my cage,
I perceived that the host came forward and said something to him--on
replying, to which, he ceased his endeavours to open the door, and looked
vacantly about him.  Upon this I threw down the sash, and called out--

\x93I say, is not this the Croix Blanche?\x94

\x93Ya,\x94 said the man-mountain with the napkin.

\x93Well, then, open the door, pray--I\x92m going to stop here.\x94

\x93Nein.\x94

\x93No!  What do you mean by that?  Has not Lord Callonby engaged rooms
here?\x94

\x93Ya.\x94

\x93Well, then, I am a particular friend of his, and will stay here also.\x94

\x93Nein.\x94

\x93What the devil are you at, with your ya and nein?\x94 said I.  \x93Has your
confounded tongue nothing better than a monosyllable to reply with.\x94

Whether disliking the tone the controversy was assuming, or remembering
that his dinner waited, I know not, but at these words my fat friend
turned leisurely round, and waddled back into the house; where, in a
moment after, I had the pleasure of beholding him at the head of a long
table, distributing viands with a very different degree of activity from
what he displayed in dialogue.

With one vigorous jerk, I dashed open the door, upsetting, at the same
time, the poor postillion, who had recommenced his operations on the
lock, and, foaming with passion, strode into the \x93salle a manger.\x94
 Nothing is such an immediate damper to any sudden explosion of temper, as
the placid and unconcerned faces of a number of people, who, ignorant of
yourself and your peculiar miseries at the moment, seem only to regard
you as a madman.  This I felt strongly, as, flushed in face and tingling
in my fingers, I entered the room.

\x93Take my luggage,\x94 said I to a gaping waiter, \x93and place a chair there,
do you hear?\x94

There seemed, I suppose, something in my looks that did not admit of much
parley, for the man made room for me at once at the table, and left the
room, as if to discharge the other part of my injunction, without saying
a word.  As I arranged my napkin before me, I was collecting my energies
and my German, as well as I was able, for the attack of the host, which,
I anticipated from his recent conduct, must now ensue; but, greatly to my
surprise, he sent me my soup without a word, and the dinner went on
without any interruption.  When the desert had made its appearance, I
beckoned the waiter towards me, and asked what the landlord meant by his
singular reception of me.  The man shrugged his shoulders, and raised his
eyebrows, without speaking, as if to imply, \x93it\x92s his way.\x94

\x93Well, then, no matter,\x94 said I.  \x93Have you sent my luggage up stairs?\x94

\x93No, sir, there is no room--the house is full.\x94

\x93The house full!  Confound it--this is too provoking.  I have most urgent
reasons for wishing to stay here.  Cannot you make some arrangement--see
about it, waiter.\x94  I here slipped a Napoleon into the fellow\x92s hand, and
hinted that as much more awaited the finale of the negociation.

In about a minute after, I perceived him behind the host\x92s chair,
pleading my cause with considerable energy; but to my complete chagrin,
I heard the other answer all his eloquence by a loud \x93Nein,\x94 that he
grunted out in such a manner as closed the conference.

\x93I cannot succeed, sir,\x94 said the man, as he passed behind me, \x93but don\x92t
leave the house till I speak with you again.\x94

What confounded mystery is there in all this, thought I.  Is there any
thing so suspicious in my look or appearance, that the old bear in the
fur cap will not even admit me.  What can it all mean.  One thing I\x92m
resolved upon--nothing less than force shall remove me.

So saying I lit my cigar, and in order to give the waiter an opportunity
of conferring with me unobserved by his master, walked out into the porch
and sat down.

In a few minutes he joined me, and after a stealthy look on each side,
said--

\x93The Herr Andreas is a hard man to deal with, and when he says a thing,
never goes back of it.  Now he has been expecting the new English Charge
d\x92Affaires here these last ten days, and has kept the hotel half empty in
consequence; and as mi Lor Callonby has engaged the other half, why we
have nothing to do; so that when he asked the postillion if you were mi
Lor, and found that you were not, he determined not to admit you.\x94

\x93But why not have the civility to explain that?\x94

\x93He seldom speaks, and when he does only a word or two at a time.  He is
quite tired with what he has gone through to-day, and will retire very
early to bed; and for this reason I have requested you to remain, for as
he never ventures up stairs, I will then manage to give you one of the
ambassador\x92s rooms, which, even if he come, he\x92ll never miss.  So that if
you keep quiet, and do not attract any particular attention towards you,
all will go well.\x94

This advice seemed so reasonable, that I determined to follow it--any
inconvenience being preferable, provided I could be under the same roof
with my beloved Jane; and from the waiter\x92s account, there seemed no
doubt whatever of their arrival that evening.  In order, therefore, to
follow his injunctions to the letter, I strolled out toward the Place in
search of the tailor, and also to deliver a letter from Waller to the
chamberlain, to provide me with a card for the ball.  Monsieur Schnetz,
who was the very pinnacle of politeness, was nevertheless, in fact,
nearly as untractable as my host of the \x93Cross.\x94  All his \x93sujets\x94 were
engaged in preparing a suit for the English Charge d\x92Affaires, whose
trunks had been sent in a wrong direction, and who had despatched a
courier from Frankfort, to order a uniform.  This second thwarting, and
from the same source, so nettled me, that I greatly fear, all my respect
for the foreign office and those who live thereby, would not have saved
them from something most unlike a blessing, had not Monsieur Schnetz
saved diplomacy from such desecration by saying, that if I could content
myself with a plain suit, such as civilians wore, he would do his
endeavour to accommodate me.

\x93Any thing, Monsieur Schnetz--dress me like the Pope\x92s Nuncio, or the
Mayor of London, if you like, but only enable me to go.\x94

Although my reply did not seem to convey a very exalted idea of my taste
in costume to the worthy artiste, it at least evinced my anxiety for the
ball; and running his measure over me, he assured me that the dress he
would provide was both well looking and becoming; adding, \x93At nine
o\x92clock, sir, you\x92ll have it--exactly the same size as his Excellency the
Charge d\x92Affaires.\x94

\x93Confound the Charge d\x92Affaires!\x94 I added, and left the house.



CHAPTER LII.

INN AT MUNICH.

As I had never been in Munich before, I strolled about the town till
dusk.  At that time the taste of the present king had not enriched the
capital with the innumerable objects of art which render it now second to
none in Europe.  There were, indeed, then but few attractions--narrow
streets, tall, unarchitectural-looking houses, and gloomy, unimpressive
churches.  Tired of this, I turned towards my inn, wondering in my mind
if Antoine had succeeded in procuring me the room, or whether yet I
should be obliged to seek my lodging elsewhere.  Scarcely had I entered
the porch, when I found him waiting my arrival, candle in hand.  He
conducted me at once up the wide oaken stair, then along the gallery,
into a large wainscotted room, with a most capacious bed.  A cheerful
wood fire burned and crackled away in the grate--the cloth was already
spread for supper--(remember it was in Germany)--the newspapers of the
day were placed before me--and, in a word, every attention showed that I
had found the true avenue to Antoine\x92s good graces, who now stood bowing
before me, in apparent ecstasy at his own cleverness.

\x93All very well done, Antoine, and now for supper--order it yourself for
me--I never can find my way in a German \x91carte de diner;\x92 and be sure to
have a fiacre here at nine--nine precisely.\x94

Antoine withdrew, leaving me to my own reflections, which now, if not
gloomy, were still of the most anxious kind.

Scarcely was the supper placed upon the table, when a tremendous tramping
of horses along the street, and loud cracking of whips, announced a new
arrival.

\x93Here they are,\x94 said I, as, springing up, I upset the soup, and nearly
threw the roti into Antoine\x92s face, as he was putting it before me.

Down stairs I rushed, through the hall, pushing aside waiters and
overturning chambermaids in my course.  The carriage was already at the
door.  Now for a surprise, thought I, as I worked through the crowd in
the porch, and reached the door just as the steps were clattered down,
and a gentleman began to descend, whom twenty expectant voices, now
informed of his identity, welcomed as the new Charge d\x92Affaires.

\x93May all the--\x94

What I wished for his excellency it would not be polite to repeat, nor
most discreet even to remember; but, certes, I mounted the stairs with as
little good will towards the envoy extraordinary as was consistent with
due loyalty.

When once more in my room, I congratulated myself that now at least no
more \x93false starts\x94 could occur--\x93the eternal Charge d\x92Affaires, of whom
I have been hearing since my arrival, cannot come twice--he is here now,
and I hope I\x92m done with him.\x94

The supper--some greasiness apart--was good--the wine excellent.  My
spirits were gradually rising, and I paced my room in that mingled state
of hope and fear, that amid all its anxieties, has such moments of
ecstasy.  A new noise without--some rabble in the street; hark, it comes
nearer--I hear the sound of wheels; yes, there go the horses--nearer and
nearer.  Ah, it is dying away again--stay--yes, yes--here it is--here
they are.  The noise and tumult without now increased every instant--the
heavy trot of six or eight horses shook the very street, and I heard the
round, dull, rumbling sound of a heavy carriage, as it drew up at last at
the door of the inn.  Why it was I know not, but this time I could not
stir--my heart beat almost loud enough for me to hear--my temples
throbbed, and then a cold and clammy perspiration came over me, and I
sank into a chair.  Fearing that I was about to faint, sick as I was, I
felt angry with myself, and tried to rally, but could not, and only at
length was roused by hearing that the steps were let down, and shortly
after the tread of feet coming along the gallery towards my room.

They are coming--she is coming, thought I.  Now then for my doom!

There was some noise of voices outside.  I listened, for I still felt
unable to rise.  The talking grew louder--doors were opened and shut
--then came a lull--then more slamming of doors, and more talking--then
all was still again--and at last I heard the steps of people as if
retiring, and in a few minutes after the carriage door was jammed to, and
again the heavy tramp of the horses rattled over the pave.  At this
instant Antoine entered.

\x93Well, Antoine,\x94 said I, in a voice trembling with weakness and
agitation, \x93not them yet?\x94

\x93It was his Grace the Grand Mareschal,\x94 said Antoine, scarcely heeding my
question, in the importance of the illustrious visitor who had arrived.

\x93Ah, the Grand Mareschal,\x94 said I, carelessly; \x93does he live here?\x94

\x93Sappermint nein, Mein Herr; but he has just been to pay his respects to
his Excellency the new Charge d\x92Affaires.\x94

In the name of all patience, I ask, who could endure this?  From the hour
of my arrival I am haunted by this one image--the Charge d\x92Affaires.  For
him I have been almost condemned to go houseless, and naked; and now the
very most sacred feelings of my heart are subject to his influence.  I
walked up and down in an agony.  Another such disappointment, and my
brain will turn, thought I, and they may write my epitaph--\x93Died of love
and a Charge d\x92Affaires.\x94

\x93It is time to dress,\x94 said the waiter.

\x93I could strangle him with my own hands,\x94 muttered I, worked up into a
real heat by the excitement of my passion.

\x93The Charge--\x94

\x93Say that name again, villain, and I\x92ll blow your brains out,\x94 cried I,
seizing Antoine by the throat, and pinning him against the wall; \x93only
dare to mutter it, and you\x92ll ever breathe another syllable.\x94

The poor fellow grew green with terror, and fell upon his knees before
me.

\x93Get my dressing things ready,\x94 said I, in a more subdued tone.  \x93I did
not mean to terrify you--but beware of what I told you.\x94

While Antoine occupied himself with the preparations for my toilette, I
sat broodingly over the wood embers, thinking of my fate.

A knock came to the door.  It was the tailor\x92s servant with my clothes.
He laid down the parcel and retired, while Antoine proceeded to open it,
and exhibit before me a blue uniform with embroidered collar and cuffs
--the whole, without being gaudy, being sufficiently handsome, and quite
as showy as I could wish.

The poor waiter expressed his unqualified approval of the costume, and
talked away about the approaching ball as something pre-eminently
magnificent.

\x93You had better look after the fiacre, Antoine,\x94 said I; \x93it is past
nine.\x94

He walked towards the door, opened it, and then, turning round, said, in
a kind of low, confidential whisper, pointing, with the thumb of his left
hand, towards the wall of the room as he spoke--

\x93He won\x92t go--very strange that.\x94

\x93Who do you mean?\x94 said I, quite unconscious of the allusion.

\x93The Charge d\x92Aff--\x94

I made one spring at him, but he slammed the door to, and before I could
reach the lobby, I heard him rolling from top to bottom of the oak
staircase, making noise enough in his fall to account for the fracture of
every bone in his body.



CHAPTER LIII.

THE BALL.

As I was informed that the King would himself be present at the ball, I
knew that German etiquette required that the company should arrive before
his Majesty; and although now every minute I expected the arrival of the
Callonbys, I dared not defer my departure any longer.

\x93They are certain to be at the ball,\x94 said Waller, and that sentence
never left my mind.

So saying, I jumped into the fiacre, and in a few minutes found myself in
the long line of carriages that led to the \x93Hof saal.\x94  Any one who has
been in Munich will testify for me, that the ball room is one of the most
beautiful in Europe, and to me who for some time had not been living much
in the world, its splendour was positively dazzling.  The glare of the
chandeliers--the clang of the music--the magnificence of the dresses--the
beauty of the Bavarian women too, all surprized and amazed me.  There
were several hundred people present, but the king not having yet arrived,
dancing had not commenced.  Feeling as I then did, it was rather a relief
to me than otherwise, that I knew no one.  There was quite amusement
enough in walking through the saloons, observing the strange costumes,
and remarking the various groups as they congregated around the trays of
ices and the champagne glacee.  The buzz of talking and the sounds of
laughter and merriment prevailed over even the orchestra; and, as the gay
crowds paraded the rooms, all seemed pleasure and excitement.  Suddenly a
tremendous noise was heard without--then came a loud roll of the drums,
which lasted for several seconds, and the clank of musketry--then a
cheer;--it is the king.

The king! resounded on all sides; and in another moment the large
folding-doors at the end of the saal were thrown open, and the music
struck up the national anthem of Bavaria.

His majesty entered, accompanied by the queen, his brother, two or three
archduchesses, and a long suite of officers.

I could not help remarking upon the singular good taste with which the
assembly--all anxious and eager to catch a glimpse of his majesty
--behaved on this occasion.  There was no pressing forward to the
\x93estrade\x94 where he stood,--no vulgar curiosity evinced by any one, but
the group continued, as before, to gather and scatter.  The only
difference being, that the velvet chair and cushion, which had attracted
some observers before, were, now that they were tenanted by royalty,
passed with a deep and respectful salutation.  How proper this, thought
I, and what an inducement for a monarch to come among his people, who
remember to receive him with such true politeness.  While these thoughts
were passing through my mind, as I was leaning against a pillar that
supported the gallery of the orchestra, a gentleman whose dress, covered
with gold and embroidery, bespoke him as belonging to the court, eyed me
aside with his lorgnette and then passed rapidly on.  A quadrille was now
forming near me, and I was watching, with some interest, the proceeding,
when the same figure that I remarked before, approached me, bowing deeply
at every step, and shaking a very halo of powder from his hair at each
reverence.

\x93May I take the liberty of introducing myself to you?\x94 said he.--\x93Le
Comte Benningsen.\x94  Here he bowed again, and I returned the obeisance
still deeper.  \x93Regretted much that I was not fortunate enough to make
your acquaintance this evening, when I called upon you.\x94

\x93Never heard of that,\x94 said I to myself.

\x93Your excellency arrived this evening?\x94

\x93Yes,\x94 said I, \x93only a few hours since.\x94

\x93How fond these Germans are of titles,\x94 thought I.  Remembering that in
Vienna every one is \x93his grace,\x94 I thought it might be Bavarian
politeness to call every one his excellency.

\x93You have not been presented, I believe?\x94

\x93No,\x94 said I; \x93but I hope to take an early opportunity of paying \x91mes
homages\x92 to his majesty.\x94

\x93I have just received his orders to present you now,\x94 replied he, with
another bow.

\x93The devil, you have,\x94 thought I.  \x93How very civil that.\x94  And, although
I had heard innumerable anecdotes of the free-and-easy habits of the
Bavarian court, this certainly surprized me, so that I actually, to
prevent a blunder, said, \x93Am I to understand you, Monsieur le Comte, that
his majesty was graciously pleased\x94--

\x93If you will follow me,\x94 replied the courtier, motioning with his chapeau;
and in another moment I was elbowing my way through the mob of marquisses
and duchesses, on my way to the raised platform where the king was
standing.

\x93Heaven grant I have not misunderstood all he has been saying,\x94 was my
last thought as the crowd of courtiers fell back on either side, and I
found myself bowing before his majesty.  How the grand mareschal entitled
me I heard not; but when the king addressed me immediately in English,
saying,

\x93I hope your excellency has had a good journey?\x94

I felt, \x93Come, there is no mistake here, Harry; and it is only another
freak of fortune, who is now in good humour with you.\x94

The king, who was a fine, tall, well-built man, with a large, bushy
moustache, possessed, though not handsome, a most pleasing expression;
his utterance was very rapid, and his English none of the best, so that
it was with the greatest difficulty I contrived to follow his questions,
which came thick as hail upon me.  After some commonplaces about the
roads, the weather, and the season, his majesty said,

\x93My Lord Callonby has been residing some time here.  You know him?\x94  And
then, not waiting for a reply, added, \x93Pleasant person--well informed
--like him much, and his daughters, too, how handsome they are.\x94  Here I
blushed, and felt most awkwardly, while the king continued.

\x93Hope they will remain some time--quite an ornament to our court.
Monsieur le Comte, his excellency will dance?\x94  I here muttered an
apology about my sprained ankle, and the king turned to converse with
some of the ladies of the court.  His majesty\x92s notice brought several
persons now around me, who introduced themselves; and, in a quarter of an
hour, I felt myself surrounded by acquaintances, each vieing with the
other in showing me attention.

Worse places than Munich, Master Harry, thought I, as I chaperoned a fat
duchess, with fourteen quarterings, towards the refreshment-room, and had
just accepted invitations enough to occupy me three weeks in advance.

\x93I have been looking every where for your excellency,\x94 said the grand
mareschal, bustling his way to me, breathless and panting.  \x93His majesty
desires you will make one of his party at whist, so pray come at once.\x94

\x93Figaro qua, Figaro la,\x94 muttered I.  \x93Never was man in such request.
God grant the whole royal family of Bavaria be not mad, for this looks
very like it.  Lady Jane had better look sharp, for I have only to throw
my eyes on an archduchess, to be king of the Tyrol some fine morning.\x94

\x93You play whist, of course; every Englishman does,\x94 said the king.  \x93You
shall be my partner.\x94

Our adversaries were the Prince Maximilian, brother to his Majesty and
the Prussian Ambassador.  As I sat down at the table, I could not help
saying in my heart, \x93now is your time, Harry, if my Lord Callonby should
see you, your fortune is made.\x94  Waller passed at this moment, and as he
saluted the king, I saw him actually start with amazement as he beheld
me--\x93better fun this than figuring in the yellow plush, Master Jack,\x94 I
muttered as he passed on actually thunder-struck with amazement.  But the
game was begun, and I was obliged to be attentive.  We won the first
game, and the king was in immense good humour as he took some franc
pieces from the Prussian minister, who, small as the stake was, seemed
not to relish losing.  His majesty now complimented me upon my play, and
was about to add something when he perceived some one in the crowd, and
sent an Aide de camp for him.

\x93Ah, my Lord, we expected you earlier,\x94 and then said some words in too
low a tone for me to hear, motioning towards me as he spoke.  If Waller
was surprised at seeing me where I was, it was nothing to the effect
produced upon the present party, whom I now recognized as Lord Callonby.
Respect for the presence we were in, restrained any expression on either
side, and a more ludicrous tableau than we presented can scarcely be
conceived.  What I would have given that the whist party was over, I need
not say, and certainly his majesty\x92s eulogy upon my play came too soon,
for I was now so \x93destrait and unhinged,\x94 my eyes wandering from the
table to see if Lady Jane was near, that I lost every trick, and finished
by revoking.  The king rose half pettishly, observing that \x93Son
Excellence a apparement perdu la tete,\x94 and I rushed forward to shake
hands with Lord Callonby, totally forgetting the royal censure in my
delight at discovering my friend.

\x93Lorrequer, I am indeed rejoiced to see you, and when did you arrive.\x94

\x93This evening.\x94

\x93This evening! and how the deuce have you contrived already, eh? why you
seem quite chez vous here?\x94

\x93You shall hear all,\x94 said I hastily, \x93but is Lady Callonby here?\x94

\x93No.  Kilkee only is with me, there he is figuranting away in a gallope.
The ladies were too tired to come, particularly as they dine at court
to-morrow, the fatigue would be rather much.\x94

\x93I have his majesty\x92s order to invite your Excellency to dinner
to-morrow,\x94 said the grand Mareschal coming up at this instant.

I bowed my acknowledgments, and turned again to Lord Callonby, whose
surprise now seemed to have reached the climax.

\x93Why Lorrequer, I never heard of this? when did you adopt this new
career?\x94

Not understanding the gist of the question, and conceiving that it
applied to my success at court, I answered at random, something about
\x93falling upon my legs, good luck, &c.,\x94 and once more returned to the
charge, enquiring most anxiously for Lady Callonby\x92s health.

\x93Ah! she is tolerably well.  Jane is the only invalid, but then we hope
Italy will restore her.\x94  Just at this instant, Kilkee caught my eye, and
rushing over from his place beside his partner, shook me by both hands,
saying,

\x93Delighted to see you here Lorrequer, but as I can\x92t stay now, promise to
sup with me to-night at the \x91Cross\x92.\x94

I accepted of course, and the next instant, he was whirling along in his
waltze, with one of the most lovely German girls I ever saw.  Lord
Callonby saw my admiration of her, and as it were replying to my gaze,
remarked,

\x93Yes, very handsome indeed, but really Kilkee is going too far with it.
I rely upon you very much to reason him out of his folly, and we have all
agreed that you have most influence over him, and are most likely to be
listened to patiently.\x94

Here was a new character assigned me, the confidential friend and adviser
of the family, trusted with a most delicate and important secret, likely
to bring me into most intimate terms of intercourse with them all, for
the \x93we\x94 of Lord Callonby bespoke a family consultation, in which I was
deputed as the negociator.  I at once promised my assistance, saying, at
the same time, that if Kilkee really was strongly attached, and had also
reason to suppose that the Lady liked him, it was not exactly fair; that
in short, if the matter had gone beyond flirtation, any interference of
mine would be imprudent, if not impertinent.  Lord Callonby smiled
slightly as he replied,

\x93Quite right, Lorrequer, I am just as much against constraint as
yourself, if only no great barriers exist; but here with a difference of
religion, country, language, habits, in fact, everything that can create
disparity, the thing is not to be thought of.\x94

I suspected that his Lordship read in my partial defence of Kilkee, a
slight attempt to prop up my own case, and felt confused and embarrassed
beyond measure at the detection.

\x93Well, we shall have time enough for all this.  Now let us hear something
of my old friend Sir Guy.  How is he looking?\x94

\x93I am unfortunately unable to give you any account of him.  I left Paris
the very day before he was expected to arrive there.\x94

\x93Oh then, I have all the news myself in that case, for in his letter
which I received yesterday, he mentions that we are not to expect him
before Tuesday.\x94

\x93Expect him.  Is he coming here then?\x94

\x93Yes.  Why, I thought you were aware of that, he has been long promising
to pay us a visit, and at last, by great persuasion, we have succeeded in
getting him across the sea, and, indeed, were it not that he was coming,
we should have been in Florence before this.\x94

A gleam of hope shot through my heart as I said to myself, what can this
visit mean? and the moment after I felt sick, almost to fainting, as I
asked if \x93my cousin Guy were also expected.\x94

\x93Oh yes.  We shall want him I should think\x94 said Lord Callonby with a
very peculiar smile.

I thought I should have fallen at these few words.  Come, Harry, thought
I, it is better to learn your fate at once.  Now or never; death itself
were preferable to this continued suspense.  If the blow is to fall, it
can scarcely sink me lower than I now feel: so reasoning, I laid my hand
upon Lord Callonby\x92s arm, and with a face pale as death, and a voice all
but inarticulate, said,

\x93My Lord, you will pardon, I am sure--\x94

\x93My dear Lorrequer,\x94 said his lordship interrupting me, \x93for heaven\x92s
sake sit down.  How ill you are looking, we must nurse you, my poor
fellow.\x94

I sank upon a bench--the light danced before my eyes--the clang of the
music sounded like the roar of a waterfall, and I felt a cold
perspiration burst over my face and forehead; at the same instant, I
recognized Kilkee\x92s voice, and without well knowing why, or how,
discovered myself in the open air.

\x93Come, you are better now,\x94 said Kilkee, \x93and will be quite well when you
get some supper, and a little of the tokay, his majesty has been good
enough to send us.\x94

\x93His majesty desires to know if his excellency is better,\x94 said an aide
de camp.

I muttered my most grateful acknowledgments.

\x93One of the court carriages is in waiting for your excellency,\x94 said a
venerable old gentleman in a tie wig, whom I recognized as the minister
for foreign affairs--as he added in a lower tone to Lord Callonby, \x93I
fear he has been greatly overworked lately--his exertions on the subject
of the Greek loan are well known to his majesty.\x94

\x93Indeed,\x94 said Lord Callonby, with a start of surprise, \x93I never heard of
that before.\x94

If it had not been for that start of amazement, I should have died of
terror.  It was the only thing that showed me I was not out of my senses,
which I now concluded the old gentleman must be, for I never had heard of
the Greek loan in my life before.

\x93Farewell, mon cher colleague,\x94 said the venerable minister as I got into
the carriage, wondering as well I might what singular band of brotherhood
united one of his majesty\x92s __th with the minister for foreign affairs of
the Court of Bavaria.

When I arrived at the White-cross, I found my nerves, usually proof to
any thing, so shaken and shattered, that fearing with the difficult game
before me any mistake, however trivial, might mar all my fortunes for
ever, I said a good night to my friends, and went to bed.



CHAPTER LIV.

A DISCOVERY.

\x93A note for Monsieur,\x94 said the waiter, awaking me at the same time from
the soundest sleep and most delightful dream.  The billet was thus:--

\x93If your excellency does not intend to slumber during the next
twenty-four hours, it might be as well to remember that we are waiting
breakfast.  Ever yours,

\x93Kilkee.\x94

\x93It is true, then,\x94 said I--following up the delusion of my dream.  \x93It
is true, I am really domesticated once more with the Callonbys.  My suit
is prospering, and at length the long-sought, long-hoped for moment is
come--\x94

\x93Well, Harry,\x94 said Kilkee, as he dashed open the door.  \x93Well, Harry,
how are you, better than last night, I hope?\x94

\x93Oh yes, considerably.  In fact, I can\x92t think what could have been the
matter with me; but I felt confoundedly uncomfortable.\x94

\x93You did!  Why, man, what can you mean; was it not a joke?\x94

\x93A joke,\x94 said I, with a start.

\x93Yes, to be sure.  I thought it was only the sequel of the other humbug.\x94

\x93The sequel of the other humbug!\x94  Gracious mercy! thought I, getting
pale with horror, is it thus he ventures to designate my attachment to
his sister?

\x93Come, come, it\x92s all over now.  What the devil could have persuaded you
to push the thing so far?\x94

\x93Really, I am so completely in the dark as to your meaning that I only
get deeper in mystery by my chance replies.  What do you mean?\x94

\x93What do I mean!  Why, the affair of last night of course.  All Munich is
full of it, and most fortunately for you, the king has taken it all in
the most good-humoured way, and laughs more than any one else about it.\x94

Oh, then, thought I, I must have done or said something last night during
my illness, that I can\x92t remember now.  \x93Come, Kilkee, out with it.  What
happened last night, that has served to amuse the good people of Munich?
for as I am a true man, I forget all you are alluding to.\x94

\x93And don\x92t remember the Greek Loan--eh?\x94

\x93The Greek Loan!\x94

\x93And your Excellency\x92s marked reception by his Majesty?  By Jove though,
it was the rarest piece of impudence I ever heard of; hoaxing a crowned
head, quizzing one of the Lord\x92s anointed is un peu trop fort.\x94

\x93If you really do not wish to render me insane at once, for the love of
mercy say, in plain terms, what all this means.\x94

\x93Come, come, I see you are incorrigible; but as breakfast is waiting all
this time, we shall have your explanations below stairs.\x94

Before I had time for another question Kilkee passed his arm within mine,
and led me along the corridor, pouring out, the entire time a whole
rhapsody about the practical joke of my late illness, which he was
pleased to say would ring from one end of Europe to the other.

Lord Callonby was alone in the breakfast-room when we entered, and the
moment he perceived me called out,

\x93Eh, Lorrequer, you here still?  Why, man, I thought you\x92d have been over
the frontier early this morning?\x94

\x93Indeed, my lord, I am not exactly aware of any urgent reason for so
rapid a flight.\x94

\x93You are not!  The devil, you are not.  Why, you must surely have known
his majesty to be the best tempered man in his dominions then, or you
would never have played off such a ruse, though I must say, there never
was anything better done.  Old Heldersteen, the minister for foreign
affairs, is nearly deranged this morning about it--it seems that he was
the first that fell into the trap; but seriously speaking, I think it
would be better if you got away from this; the king, it is true, has
behaved with the best possible good feeling; but--\x94

\x93My lord, I have a favour to ask, perhaps, indeed in all likelihood the
last I shall ever ask of your lordship, it is this--what are you alluding
to all this while, and for what especial reason do you suggest my
immediate departure from Munich?\x94

\x93Bless my heart and soul--you surely cannot mean to carry the thing on
any further--you never can intend to assume your ministerial functions by
daylight?\x94

\x93My what!--my ministerial functions.\x94

\x93Oh no, that were too much--even though his majesty did say--that you
were the most agreeable diplomate he had met for a long time.\x94

\x93I, a diplomate.\x94

\x93You, certainly.  Surely you cannot be acting now; why, gracious mercy,
Lorrequer! can it be possible that you were not doing it by design, do
you really not know in what character you appeared last night?\x94

\x93If in any other than that of Harry Lorrequer, my lord, I pledge my
honour, I am ignorant.\x94

\x93Nor the uniform you wore, don\x92t you know what it meant?\x94

\x93The tailor sent it to my room.\x94

\x93Why, man, by Jove, this will kill me,\x94 said Lord Callonby, bursting into
a fit of laughter, in which Kilkee, a hitherto silent spectator of our
colloquy, joined to such an extent, that I thought he should burst a
bloodvessel.  \x93Why man, you went as the Charge d\x92Affaires.\x94

\x93I, the Charge d\x92Affaires!\x94

\x93That you did, and a most successful debut you made of it.\x94

While shame and confusion covered me from head to foot at the absurd and
ludicrous blunder I had been guilty of, the sense of the ridiculous was
so strong in me, that I fell upon a sofa and laughed on with the others
for full ten minutes.

\x93Your Excellency is, I am rejoiced to find, in good spirits,\x94 said Lady
Callonby, entering and presenting her hand.

\x93He is so glad to have finished the Greek Loan,\x94 said Lady Catherine,
smiling with a half malicious twinkle of the eye.  Just at this instant
another door opened, and Lady Jane appeared.  Luckily for me, the
increased mirth of the party, as Lord Callonby informed them of my
blunder, prevented their paying any attention to me, for as I half sprung
forward toward her, my agitation would have revealed to any observer, the
whole state of my feelings.  I took her hand which she extended to me,
without speaking, and bowing deeply over it, raised my head and looked
into her eyes, as if to read at one glance, my fate, and when I let fall
her hand, I would not have exchanged my fortune for a kingdom.

\x93You have heard, Jane, how our friend opened his campaign in Munich last
night.\x94

\x93Oh, I hope, Mr. Lorrequer, they are only quizzing.  You surely could
not--\x94

\x93Could not.  What he could not--what he would not do, is beyond my
calculation to make out,\x94 said Kilkee, laughing, \x93anything in life, from
breaking an axletree to hoaxing a king;\x94 I turned, as may be imagined, a
deaf ear to this allusion, which really frightened me, not knowing how
far Kilkee\x92s information might lead, nor how he might feel disposed to
use it.  Lady Jane turned a half reproachful glance at me, as if rebuking
my folly; but in the interest she thus took in me, I should not have
bartered it for the smile of the proudest queen in Christendom.

Breakfast over, Lord Callonby undertook to explain to the Court the
blunder, by which I had unwittingly been betrayed into personating the
newly arrived minister, and as the mistake was more of their causing than
my own, my excuses were accepted, and when his lordship returned to the
hotel, he brought with him an invitation for me to dine at Court in my
own unaccredited character.  By this time I had been carrying on the
siege as briskly as circumstances permitted; Lady Callonby being deeply
interested in her newly arrived purchases, and Lady Catherine being
good-natured enough to pretend to be so also, left me, at intervals,
many opportunities of speaking to Lady Jane.

As I feared that such occasions would not often present themselves, I
determined on making the best use of my time, and at once led the
conversation towards the goal I aimed at, by asking, \x93if Lady Jane had
completely forgotten the wild cliffs and rocky coast of Clare, amid the
tall mountains and glaciered peaks of the Tyrol?\x94

\x93Far from it,\x94 she replied.  \x93I have a most clear remembrance of bold
Mogher and the rolling swell of the blue Atlantic, and long to feel its
spray once more upon my cheek; but then, I knew it in childhood--your
acquaintance with it was of a later date, and connected with fewer happy
associations.\x94

\x93Fewer happy associations--how can you say so?  Was it not there the
brightest hours of my whole life were passed, was it not there I first
met--\x94

\x93Kilkee tells me,\x94 said Lady Jane, interrupting me shortly, \x93that Miss
Bingham is extremely pretty.\x94

This was turning my flank with a vengeance; so I muttered something about
differences of tastes, &c. and continued, \x93I understand my worthy cousin
Guy, had the good fortune to make your acquaintance in Paris.\x94

It was now her turn to blush, which she did deeply, and said nothing.

\x93He is expected, I believe, in a few days at Munich,\x94 said I, fixing my
eyes upon her, and endeavouring to read her thoughts; she blushed more
deeply, and the blood at my own heart ran cold, as I thought over all I
had heard, and I muttered to myself \x93she loves him.\x94

\x93Mr. Lorrequer, the carriage is waiting, and as we are going to the
Gallery this morning, and have much to see, pray let us have your
escort.\x94

\x93Oh, I am sure,\x94 said Catherine, \x93his assistance will be considerable
--particularly if his knowledge of art only equals his tact in botany.
Don\x92t you think so, Jane?\x94--But Jane was gone.

They left the room to dress, and I was alone--alone with my anxious, now
half despairing thoughts, crowding and rushing upon my beating brain.
She loves him, and I have only come to witness her becoming the wife of
another.  I see it all, too plainly;--my Uncle\x92s arrival--Lord Callonby\x92s
familiar manner--Jane\x92s own confession.  All--all convince me, that my
fate is decided.  Now, then, for one last brief explanation, and I leave
Munich, never to see her more.  Just as I had so spoken, she entered.
Her gloves had been forgotten in the room, and she came in not knowing
that I was there.  What would I not have given at that moment, for the
ready witted assurance, the easy self-possession, with which I should
have made my advances had my heart not been as deeply engaged as I now
felt it.  Alas!  My courage was gone; there was too much at stake, and
I preferred, now, that the time was come, any suspense, any vacillation,
to the dreadful certainty of refusal.

These were my first thoughts, as she entered; how they were followed, I
cannot say.  The same evident confusion of my brain, which I once felt
when mounting the breach in a storm-party, now completely beset me; and
as then, when death and destruction raged on every side, I held on my way
regardless of every obstacle, and forgetting all save the goal before me;
so did I now, in the intensity of my excitement, disregard every thing,
save the story of my love, which I poured forth with that fervour which
truth only can give.  But she spoke not,--her averted head,--her cold and
tremulous hand, and half-drawn sigh were all that replied to me, as I
waited for that one word upon which hung all my fortune.  At length her
hand, which I scarcely held within my own, was gently withdrawn.  She
lifted it to her eyes, but still was silent.

\x93Enough,\x94 said I, \x93I seek not to pain you more.  The daring ambition that
prompted me to love you, has met its heaviest retribution.  Farewell,
--You, Lady Jane, have nothing to reproach yourself with--You never
encouraged, you never deceived me.  I, and I alone have been to blame,
and mine must be the suffering.  Adieu, then once more, and now for
ever.\x94

She turned slowly round, and as the handkerchief fell from her hand,--her
features were pale as marble,--I saw that she was endeavouring to speak,
but could not; and at length, as the colour came slowly back to her
cheek, her lips moved, and just as I leaned forward, with a beating heart
to hear, her sister came running forward, and suddenly checked herself in
her career, as she said, laughingly,--

\x93Mille pardons, Jane, but his Excellency must take another occasion to
explain the quadruple alliance, for mamma has been waiting in the
carriage these ten minutes.\x94

I followed them to the door, placed them in the carriage, and was turning
again towards the house, when Lady Callonby said--

\x93Oh, Mr. Lorrequer, we count upon you--you must not desert us.\x94

I muttered something about not feeling well.

\x93And then, perhaps, the Greek loan is engaging your attention,\x94 said
Catherine; \x93or, mayhap, some reciprocity treaty is not prospering.\x94

The malice of this last sally told, for Jane blushed deeply, and I felt
overwhelmed with confusion.

\x93But pray come--the drive will do you good.\x94

\x93Your ladyship will, I am certain, excuse\x94--

Just as I had got so far, I caught Lady Jane\x92s eye, for the first time
since we had left the drawing-room.  What I read there, I could not, for
the life of me, say; but, instead of finishing my sentence, I got into
the carriage, and drove off, very much to the surprise of Lady Callonby,
who, never having studied magnetism, knew very little the cause of my
sudden recovery.

The thrill of hope that shot through my heart succeeding so rapidly the
dark gloom of my despairing thoughts, buoyed me up, and while I whispered
to myself, \x93all may not yet be lost,\x94 I summoned my best energies to my
aid.  Luckily for me, I was better qualified to act as cicerone in a
gallery than as a guide in a green-house; and with the confidence that
knowledge of a subject ever inspires, I rattled away about art and
artists, greatly to the edification of Lady Callonby--much to the
surprise of Lady Catherine--and, better than all, evidently to the
satisfaction of her, to win whose praise I would gladly have risked my
life.

\x93There,\x94 said I, as I placed my fair friend before a delicious little
madonna of Carl Dolci--\x93there is, perhaps, the triumph of colouring--for
the downy softness of that cheek--the luscious depth of that blue eye
--the waving richness of those sunny locks, all is perfect--fortunately so
beautiful a head is not a monopoly, for he painted many copies of this
picture.\x94

\x93Quite true,\x94 said a voice behind, \x93and mine at Elton is, I think, if
anything, better than this.\x94

I turned, and beheld my good old uncle, Sir Guy, who was standing beside
Lady Callonby.  While I welcomed my worthy relative, I could not help
casting a glance around to see if Guy were also there, and not perceiving
him, my heart beat freely again.

My uncle, it appeared, had just arrived, and lost no time in joining us
at the gallery.  His manner to me was cordial to a degree; and I
perceived that, immediately upon being introduced to Lady Jane, he took
considerable pains to observe her, and paid her the most marked
attention.

The first moment I could steal unnoticed, I took the opportunity of
asking if Guy were come.  That one fact were to me all, and upon the
answer to my question, I hung with deep anxiety.

\x93Guy here!--no, not yet.  The fact is, Harry, my boy, Guy has not got on
here as well as I could have wished.  Everything had been arranged among
us--Callonby behaved most handsomely--and, as far as regarded myself, I
threw no impediment in the way.  But still, I don\x92t know how it was, but
Guy did not advance, and the matter now\x94--

\x93Pray, how does it stand?  Have you any hopes to put all to rights
again?\x94

\x93Yes, Harry, I think, with your assistance, much may be done.\x94

\x93Oh, count upon me by all means,\x94 said I, with a sneering bitterness,
that my uncle could not have escaped remarking, had his attention not
been drawn off by Lady Callonby.

What have I done--what sin did I meditate before I was born, that I
should come into the world branded with failure in all I attempt?  Is it
not enough that my cousin, my elder by some months, should be rich while
I am poor--honoured and titled, while I am unknown and unnoticed?--but is
he also to be preferred to me in every station in life?  Is there no
feeling of the heart so sacred that it must not succumb to primogeniture?

\x93What a dear old man Sir Guy is,\x94 said Catherine, interrupting my sad
reflections, \x93and how gallant; he is absolutely flirting with Lady Jane.\x94

And quite true it was.  The old gentleman was paying his devoirs with a
studied anxiety to please, that went to my very heart as I witnessed it.
The remainder of that day to me was a painful and suffering one.  My
intention of suddenly leaving Munich had been abandoned, why, I knew not.
I felt that I was hoping against hope, and that my stay was only to
confirm, by the most \x93damning proof,\x94 how surely I was fated to
disappointment.  My reasonings all ended in one point.  If she really
love Guy, then my present attentions can only be a source of unhappiness
to her; if she do not, is there any prospect that from the bare fact of
my attachment, so proud a family as the Callonbys will suffer their
daughter to make a mere \x93marriage d\x92inclination?\x94

There was but one answer to this question, and I had at last the courage
to make it: and yet the Callonbys had marked me out for their attentions,
and had gone unusually out of their way to inflict injury upon me, if all
were meant to end in nothing.  If I only could bring myself to think that
this was a systematic game adopted by them, to lead to the subsequent
arrangement with my cousin!--if I could but satisfy my doubts on this
head----What threats of vengeance I muttered, I cannot remember, for I
was summoned at that critical moment to attend the party to the palace.

The state of excitement I was in, was an ill preparative for the rigid
etiquette of a court dinner.  All passed off, however, happily, and the
king, by a most good-natured allusion to the blunder of the night before,
set me perfectly at ease on that head.

I was placed next to Lady Jane at dinner; and half from wounded pride,
half from the momentarily increasing conviction that all was lost,
chatted away gaily, without any evidence of a stronger feeling than the
mere vicinity of a pretty person is sure to inspire.  What success this
game was attended with I know not; but the suffering it cost me, I shall
never cease to remember.  One satisfaction I certainly did experience
--she was manifestly piqued, and several times turned towards the person
on the other side of her, to avoid the tone of indifference in which I
discussed matters that were actually wringing my own heart at the moment.
Yet such was the bitterness of my spirit, that I set down this conduct
on her part as coquetry; and quite convinced myself that any slight
encouragement she might ever have given my attentions, was only meant
to indulge a spirit of vanity, by adding another to the list of her
conquests.

As the feeling grew upon me, I suppose my manner to her became more
palpably cutting, for it ended at last in our discontinuing to speak, and
when we retired from the palace, I accompanied her to the carriage in
silence, and wished her a cold and distant good night, without any
advance to touch her hand at parting--and yet that parting, I had
destined for our last.

The greater part of that night I spent in writing letters.  One was to
Jane herself owning my affection, confessing that even the \x93rudesse\x94 of
my late conduct was the fruit of it, and finally assuring her that
failing to win from her any return of my passion, I had resolved never to
meet her more--I also wrote a short note to my uncle, thanking him for
all he had formerly done in my behalf, but coldly declining for the
future, any assistance upon his part, resolving that upon my own efforts
alone should I now rest my fortunes.  To Lord Callonby I wrote at greater
length, recapitulating the history of our early intimacy, and accusing
him of encouraging me in expectations, which, as he never intended to
confirm them, were fated to prove my ruin.  More--much more I said, which
to avow, I should gladly shrink from, were it not that I have pledged
myself to honesty in these \x93Confessions,\x94 and as they depict the
bitterness and misery of my spirit, I must plead guilty to them here.  In
a word, I felt myself injured.  I saw no outlet for redress, and the only
consolation open to my wounded pride and crushed affection, was to show,
that if I felt myself a victim, at least I was not a dupe.  I set about
packing up for the journey, whither, I knew not.  My leave was nearly
expired, yet I could not bear the thought of rejoining the regiment.
My only desire was to leave Munich, and that speedily.  When all my
arrangements were completed I went down noiselessly to the inn yard to
order post-horses by day-break, there to my surprise I found all activity
and bustle.  Though so late at night, a courier had arrived from England
for Lord Callonby, with some important dispatches from the Government;
this would, at any other time, have interested me deeply; now I heard
the news without a particle of feeling, and I made all the necessary
dispositions for my journey, without paying the slightest attention to
what was going on about me.  I had just finished, when Lord Callonby\x92s
valet came to say, that his lordship wished to see me immediately in his
dressing room.  Though I would gladly have declined any further
interview, I saw no means of escape, and followed the servant to his
lordship\x92s room.

There I found Lord Callonby in his dressing gown and night cap,
surrounded by papers, letters, despatch boxes, and red tape-tied parcels,
that all bespoke business.

\x93Lorrequer, sit down, my boy, I have much to say to you, and as we have
no time to lose, you must forego a little sleep.  Is the door closed?
I have just received most important news from England, and to begin,\x94
 here his lordship opened a letter and read as follow:--

\x93My Lord--They are out at last--the majority on Friday increased to forty
yesterday evening, when they resigned; the Duke has, meanwhile, assumed
the reins till further arrangements can be perfected, and despatches are
now preparing to bring all our friends about us.  The only rumours as yet
are, L___, for the Colonies, H___, to the Foreign Office, W____ President
of the Council, and we anxiously hope yourself Viceroy to Ireland.  In
any case lose no time in coming back to England.  The struggle will be a
sharp one, as the outs are distracted, and we shall want you much.  Ever
yours, my dear lord,

\x93Henry ____.\x94

\x93This is much sooner than I looked for, Lorrequer, perhaps almost than I
wished; but as it has taken place, we must not decline the battle; now
what I wanted with you is this--if I go to Ireland I should like your
acceptance of the Private Secretary\x92s Office.  Come, come, no objections;
you know that you need not leave the army, you can become unattached,
I\x92ll arrange all that; apropos, this concerns you, it is from the Horse
Guards, you need not read it now though, it is merely your gazette to the
company; your promotion, however, shall not stop there; however, the
important thing I want with you is this, I wish you to start for England
to-morrow; circumstances prevent my going from this for a few days.  You
can see L____ and W____, &c., and explain all I have to say; I shall
write a few letters, and some hints for your own guidance; and as Kilkee
never would have head for these matters, I look to your friendship to do
it for me.\x94

Looking only to the post, as the proposal suited my already made resolve
to quit Munich, I acceded at once, and assured Lord Callonby that I
should be ready in an hour.

\x93Quite right, Lorrequer, but still I shall not need this, you cannot
leave before eleven or twelve o\x92clock, in fact I have another service to
exact at your hands before we part with you; meanwhile, try and get some
sleep, you are not likely to know anything of a bed before you reach the
Clarendon.\x94  So saying, he hurried me from the room, and as he closed the
door, I heard him muttering his satisfaction, that already so far all had
been well arranged.



CHAPTER LV.

CONCLUSION.

Sleep came on me, without my feeling it, and amid all the distracting
cares and pressing thoughts that embarrassed me, I only awoke when the
roll of the caleche sounded beneath my window, and warned me that I must
be stirring and ready for the road.

Since it is to be thus, thought I, it is much better that this
opportunity should occur of my getting away at once, and thus obviate all
the unpleasantness of my future meeting with Lady Jane; and the thousand
conjectures that my departure, so sudden and unannounced might give rise
to.  So be it, and I have now only one hope more--that the terms we last
parted on, may prevent her appearing at the breakfast table; with these
words I entered the room, where the Callonbys were assembled, all save
Lady Jane.

\x93This is too provoking; really, Mr. Lorrequer,\x94 said Lady Callonby, with
her sweetest smile, and most civil manner, \x93quite too bad to lose you
now, that you have just joined us.\x94

\x93Come, no tampering with our party,\x94 said Lord Callonby, \x93my friend here
must not be seduced by honied words and soft speeches, from the high road
that leads to honours and distinctions--now for your instructions.\x94  Here
his lordship entered into a very deep discussion as to the conditions
upon which his support might be expected, and relied upon, which Kilkee
from time to time interrupted by certain quizzing allusions to the low
price he put upon his services, and suggested that a mission for myself
should certainly enter into the compact.

At length breakfast was over, and Lord Callonby said, \x93now make your
adieux, and let me see you for a moment in Sir Guy\x92s room, we have a
little discussion there, in which your assistance is wanting.\x94  I
accordingly took my farewell of Lady Callonby, and approached to do so to
Lady Jane, but much to my surprise, she made me a very distant salute,
and said in her coldest tone, \x93I hope you may have a pleasant journey.\x94
 Before I had recovered my surprise at this movement, Kilkee came forward
and offered to accompany me a few miles of the road.  I accepted readily
the kind offer, and once more bowing to the ladies, withdrew.  And thus
it is, thought I, that I leave all my long dreamed of happiness, and such
is the end of many a long day\x92s ardent expectation.  When I entered my
uncle\x92s room, my temper was certainly not in the mood most fit for
further trials, though it was doomed to meet them.

\x93Harry, my boy, we are in great want of you here, and as time presses, we
must state our case very briefly.  You are aware, Sir Guy tells me, that
your cousin Guy has been received among us as the suitor of my eldest
daughter.  It has been an old compact between us to unite our families by
ties still stronger than our very ancient friendship, and this match has
been accordingly looked to, by us both with much anxiety.  Now, although
on our parts I think no obstacle intervenes, yet I am sorry to say, there
appear difficulties in other quarters.  In fact, certain stories have
reached Lady Jane\x92s ears concerning your cousin, which have greatly
prejudiced her against him, and we have reason to think most unfairly;
for we have succeeded in tracing some of the offences in question, not to
Guy, but to a Mr. Morewood, who it seems has personated your cousin upon
more than one occasion, and not a little to his disadvantage.  Now we
wish you to sift these matters to the bottom, by your going to Paris as
soon as you can venture to leave London--find out this man, and if
possible, make all straight; if money is wanting, he must of course have
it; but bear one thing in mind, that any possible step which may remove
this unhappy impression from my daughter\x92s mind, will be of infinite
service, and never forgotten by us.  Kilkee too has taken some dislike to
Guy.  You have only, however, to talk to him on the matter, and he is
sure to pay attention to you.\x94

\x93And, Harry,\x94 said my uncle, \x93tell Guy, I am much displeased that he is
not here, I expected him to leave Paris with me, but some absurd wager at
the Jockey Club detained him.\x94

\x93Another thing, Harry, you may as well mention to your cousin, that Sir
Guy has complied with every suggestion that he formerly threw out--he
will understand the allusion.\x94

\x93Oh yes,\x94 said my uncle, \x93tell him roundly, he shall have Elton Hall; I
have fitted up Marsden for myself; so no difficulty lies in that
quarter.\x94

\x93You may add, if you like, that my present position with the government
enables me to offer him a speedy prospect of a Regiment, and that I think
he had better not leave the army.\x94

\x93And say that by next post Hamercloth\x92s bond for the six thousand shall
be paid off, and let him send me a note of any other large sum he owes.\x94

\x93And above all things, no more delays.  I must leave this for England
inevitably, and as the ladies will probably prefer wintering in Italy--\x94

\x93Oh certainly,\x94 said my uncle, \x93the wedding must take place.\x94

\x93I scarcely can ask you to come to us on the occasion, though I need not
say how greatly we should all feel gratified if you could do so,\x94 said my
Lord.

While this cross fire went on from both sides, I looked from one to the
other of the speakers.  My first impression being, that having perceived
and disliked my attention to Lady Jane, they adopted this \x93mauvaise
plaisanterie\x94 as a kind of smart lesson for my future guidance.  My next
impression was that they were really in earnest, but about the very
stupidest pair of old gentlemen that ever wore hair powder.

\x93And this is all,\x94 said I, drawing a long breath, and inwardly uttering a
short prayer for patience.

\x93Why, I believe, I have mentioned everything,\x94 said Lord Callonby,
\x93except that if anything occurs to yourself that offers a prospect of
forwarding this affair, we leave you a carte blanche to adopt it.\x94

\x93Of course, then,\x94 said I, \x93I am to understand that as no other
difficulties lie in the way than those your Lordship has mentioned, the
feelings of the parties, their affections are mutual.\x94

\x93Oh, of course, your cousin, I suppose, has made himself agreeable; he
is a good looking fellow, and in fact, I am not aware, why they should
not like each other, eh Sir Guy?\x94

\x93To be sure, and the Elton estates run half the shire with your
Gloucester property; never was there a more suitable match.\x94

\x93Then only one point remains, and that being complied with, you may
reckon upon my services; nay, more, I promise you success.  Lady Jane\x92s
own consent must be previously assured to me, without this, I most
positively decline moving a step in the matter; that once obtained,
freely and without constraint, I pledge myself to do all you require.\x94

\x93Quite fair, Harry, I perfectly approve of your scruples,\x94 so saying, his
Lordship rose and left the room.

\x93Well, Harry, and yourself, what is to be done for you, has Callonby
offered you anything yet?\x94

\x93Yes sir, his Lordship has most kindly offered me the under secretaryship
in Ireland, but I have resolved on declining it, though I shall not at
present say so, lest he should feel any delicacy in employing me upon the
present occasion.\x94

\x93Why, is the boy deranged--decline it--what have you got in the world,
that you should refuse such an appointment.\x94

The colour mounted to my cheeks, my temples burned, and what I should
have replied to this taunt, I know not, for passion had completely
mastered me.  When Lord Callonby again entered the room, his usually calm
and pale face was agitated and flushed; and his manner tremulous and
hurried; for an instant he was silent, then turning towards my uncle,
he took his hand affectionately, and said,

\x93My good old friend, I am deeply, deeply grieved; but we must abandon
this scheme.  I have just seen my daughter, and from the few words which
we have had together, I find that her dislike to the match is invincible,
and in fact, she has obtained my promise never again to allude to it.  If
I were willing to constrain the feelings of my child, you yourself would
not permit it.  So here let us forget that we ever hoped for, ever
calculated on a plan in which both our hearts were so deeply interested.\x94

These words, few as they were, were spoken with deep feeling, and for the
first time, I looked upon the speaker with sincere regard.  They were
both silent for some minutes; Sir Guy, who was himself much agitated,
spoke first.

\x93So be it then, Callonby, and thus do I relinquish one--perhaps the only
cheering prospect my advanced age held out to me.  I have long wished to
have your daughter for my niece, and since I have known her, the wish has
increased tenfold.\x94

\x93It was the chosen dream of all my anticipations,\x94 said Lord Callonby,
\x93and now Jane\x92s affections only--but let it pass.\x94

\x93And is there then really no remedy, can nothing be struck out?\x94

\x93Nothing.\x94

\x93I am not quite so sure, my Lord,\x94 said I tremulously.

\x93No, no, Lorrequer, you are a ready witted fellow I know, but this passes
even your ingenuity, besides I have given her my word.\x94

\x93Even so.\x94

\x93Why, what do you mean, speak out man,\x94 said Sir Guy, \x93I\x92ll give you ten
thousand pounds on the spot if you suggest a means of overcoming this
difficulty.\x94

\x93Perhaps you might not accede afterwards.\x94

\x93I pledge myself to it.\x94

\x93And I too,\x94 said Lord Callonby, \x93if no unfair stratagem be resorted to
towards my daughter.  If she only give her free and willing consent, I
agree.\x94

\x93Then you must bid higher, uncle, ten thousand won\x92t do, for the bargain
is well worth the money.\x94

\x93Name your price, boy, and keep your word.\x94

\x93Agreed then,\x94 holding my uncle to his promise, \x93I pledge myself that his
nephew shall be husband of Lady Jane Callonby, and now, my Lord, read
Harry vice Guy in the contract, and I am certain my uncle is too faithful
to his plighted word, and too true to his promise not to say it shall
be.\x94

The suddenness of this rash declaration absolutely stunned them both, and
then recovering at the same moment, their eyes met.

\x93Fairly caught, Guy\x94 said Lord Callonby, \x93a bold stroke if it only
succeeds.\x94

\x93And it shall, by G--,\x94 said my uncle, \x93Elton is yours, Harry, and with
seven thousand a year, and my nephew to boot, Callonby won\x92t refuse you.\x94

There are moments in life in which conviction will follow a bold \x93coup de
main,\x94 that never would have ensued from the slow process of reasoning.
Luckily for me, this was one of those happy intervals.  Lord Callonby
catching my uncle\x92s enthusiasm, seized me by the hand and said,

\x93With her consent, Lorrequer, you may count upon mine, and faith
if truth must be told, I always preferred you to the other.\x94

What my uncle added, I waited not to listen to; but with one bound sprung
from the room--dashed up stairs to Lady Callonby\x92s drawing-room--looked
rapidly around to see if SHE were there, and then without paying the
slightest attention to the questions of Lady Callonby and her younger
daughter, was turning to leave the room, when my eye caught the flutter
of a Cachmere shawl in the garden beneath.  In an instant the window was
torn open--I stood upon the sill, and though the fall was some twenty
feet, with one spring I took it, and before the ladies had recovered from
their first surprise at my unaccountable conduct, put the finishing
stroke to their amazement, by throwing my arms around Lady Jane, and
clasping her to my heart.

I cannot remember by what process I explained the change that had taken
place in my fortunes.  I had some very vague recollection of vows of
eternal love being mingled with praises of my worthy uncle, and the state
of my affections and finances were jumbled up together, but still
sufficiently intelligible to satisfy my beloved Jane--that this time at
least, I made love with something more than my own consent to support me.
Before we had walked half round the garden, she had promised to be mine;
and Harry Lorrequer, who rose that morning with nothing but despair and
darkness before him, was now the happiest of men.

Dear reader, I have little more to confess.  Lord Callonby\x92s politics
were fortunately deemed of more moment than maidenly scruples, and the
treasury benches more respected than the trousseau.  Our wedding was
therefore settled for the following week.  Meanwhile, every day seemed
to teem with its own meed of good fortune.  My good uncle, under whose
patronage, forty odd years before, Colonel Kamworth had obtained his
commission, undertook to effect the reconciliation between him and the
Wallers, who now only waited for our wedding, before they set out for
Hydrabad cottage, that snug receptacle of Curry and Madeira, Jack
confessing that he had rather listen to the siege of Java, by that
fire-side, than hear an account of Waterloo from the lips of the great
Duke himself.

I wrote to Trevanion to invite him to Munich for the ceremony, and the
same post which informed me that he was en route to join us, brought also
a letter from my eccentric friend O\x92Leary, whose name having so often
occurred in these confessions, I am tempted to read aloud, the more so as
its contents are no secret, Kilkee having insisted upon reading it to a
committee of the whole family assembled after dinner.

     \x93Dear Lorrequer,

     \x93The trial is over, and I am acquitted, but still in St. Pelagie;
     for as the government were determined to cut my head off if guilty,
     so the mob resolved to murder me if innocent.  A pleasant place
     this: before the trial, I was the most popular man in Paris; my face
     was in every print shop; plaster busts of me, with a great organ
     behind the ear, in all the thoroughfares; my autograph selling at
     six and twenty sous, and a lock of my hair at five francs.  Now that
     it is proved I did not murder the \x93minister at war,\x94 (who is in
     excellent health and spirits) the popular feeling against me is very
     violent; and I am looked upon as an imposter, who obtained his
     notoriety under false pretences; and Vernet, who had begun my
     picture for a Judas, has left off in disgust.  Your friend Trevanion
     is a trump; he procured a Tipperary gentleman to run away with Mrs.
     Ram, and they were married at Frankfort, on Tuesday last.  By the
     by, what an escape you had of Emily: she was only quizzing you all
     the time.  She is engaged to be married to Tom O\x92Flaherty, who is
     here now.  Emily\x92s imitation of you, with the hat a little on one
     side, and a handkerchief flourishing away in one hand, is capital;
     but when she kneels down and says, \x91dearest Emily, &c.\x92 you\x92d swear
     it was yourself.\x94--[Here the laughter of the auditory prevented
     Kilkee proceeding, who, to my utter confusion, resumed after a
     little.]--\x93Don\x92t be losing your time making up to Lord Callonby\x92s
     daughter\x94--[here came another burst of laughter]--\x93they say here you
     have not a chance, and moreover she\x92s a downright flirt.\x94--[\x93It is
     your turn now, Jane,\x94 said Kilkee, scarcely able to proceed.]
     --\x93Besides that, her father\x92s a pompous old Tory, that won\x92t give a
     sixpence with her; and the old curmudgeon, your uncle, has as much
     idea of providing for you, as he has of dying.\x94--[This last sally
     absolutely convulsed all parties.]--\x93To be sure Kilkee\x92s a fool, but
     he is no use to you.\x94--[\x93Begad I thought I was going to escape,\x94
      said the individual alluded to, \x93but your friend O\x92Leary cuts on
     every side of him.\x94]  The letter, after some very grave reflections
     upon the hopelessness of my pursuit, concluded with a kind pledge to
     meet me soon, and become my travelling companion.  Meanwhile, added
     he, \x93I must cross over to London, and look after my new work, which
     is to come out soon, under the title of \x91the Loiterings of Arthur
     O\x92Leary.\x92\x94

This elegant epistle formed the subject of much laughter and conversation
amongst us long after it was concluded; and little triumph could be
claimed by any party, when nearly all were so roughly handled.  So passed
the last evening I spent in Munich--the next morning I was married.

THE END.



EBOOK EDITOR\x92S BOOKMARKS FOR ALL VOLUMES:

A c\x92est egal, mam\x92selle, they don\x92t mind these things in France
A rather unlady-like fondness for snuff
A crowd is a mob, if composed even of bishops
Accept of benefits with a tone of dissatisfaction
Accustomed to the slowness and the uncertainty of the law
Air of one who seeks to consume than enjoy his time
Always a pleasure felt in the misfortunes of even our best friend
Amount of children which is algebraically expressed by an X
And some did pray--who never prayed before
Annoyance of her vulgar loquacity
Brought a punishment far exceeding the merits of the case
Chateaux en Espagne
Chew over the cud of his misfortune
Daily association sustains the interest of the veriest trifles
Dear, dirty Dublin--Io te salute
Delectable modes of getting over the ground through life
Devilish hot work, this, said the colonel
Disputing \x93one brandy too much\x94 in his bill
Empty, valueless, heartless flirtation
Ending--I never yet met the man who could tell when it ended
Enjoy the name without the gain
Enough is as good as a feast
Escaped shot and shell to fall less gloriously beneath champagne
Every misfortune has an end at last
Exclaimed with Othello himself, \x93Chaos was come again;\x94
 Fearful of a self-deception where so much was at stake
Fighting like devils for conciliation
Finish in sorrow what you have begun in folly
Gardez vous des femmes, and more especially if they be Irish
Green silk, \x93a little off the grass, and on the bottle\x94
 Had a most remarkable talent for selecting a son-in-law
Had to hear the \x93proud man\x92s contumely\x94
 Half pleased and whole frightened with the labour before him
Has but one fault, but that fault is a grand one
Hating each other for the love of God
He first butthers them up, and then slithers them down
He was very much disguised in drink
How ingenious is self-deception
If such be a sin, \x93then heaven help the wicked\x94
 Indifferent to the many rebuffs she momentarily encountered
Involuntary satisfaction at some apparent obstacle to my path
Jaunting-cars, with three on a side and \x93one in the well\x94
 Least important functionaries took the greatest airs upon them
Levelling character of a taste for play
Listen to reason, as they would call it in Ireland
Memory of them when hallowed by time or distance
Might almost excite compassion even in an enemy
Misfortune will find you out, if ye were hid in a tay chest
Mistaking zeal for inclination
Mistaking your abstraction for attention
My English proves me Irish
My French always shows me to be English
Never able to restrain myself from a propensity to make love
Nine-inside  leathern \x93conveniency,\x94 bumping ten miles an hour
No equanimity like his who acts as your second in a duel
Nothing seemed extravagant to hopes so well founded
Nothing ever makes a man so agreeable as the belief that he is
Now, young ladies, come along, and learn something, if you can
Oh, the distance is nothing, but it is the pace that kills
Opportunely been so overpowered as to fall senseless
Other bottle of claret that lies beyond the frontier of prudence
Packed jury of her relatives, who rarely recommend you to mercy
Pleased are we ever to paint the past according to our own fancy
Profoundly and learnedly engaged in discussing medicine
Profuse in his legends of his own doings in love and war
Rather better than people with better coats on them
Rather a dabbler in the \x93ologies\x94
 Recovered as much of their senses as the wine had left them
Respectable heir-loom of infirmity
Seems ever to accompany dullness a sustaining power of vanity
Sixteenthly, like a Presbyterian minister\x92s sermon
Stoicism which preludes sending your friend out of the world
Strong opinions against tobacco within doors
Suppose I have laughed at better men than ever he was
Sure if he did, doesn\x92t he take it out o\x92 me in the corns?
That vanity which wine inspires
That \x93to stand was to fall,\x94
 That land of punch, priests, and potatoes
The divil a bit better she was nor a pronoun
The tone of assumed compassion
The \x93fat, fair, and forty\x94 category
There are unhappily impracticable people in the world
There is no infatuation like the taste for flirtation
They were so perfectly contented with their self-deception
Time, that \x91pregnant old gentleman,\x92 will disclose all
Unwashed hands, and a heavy gold ring upon his thumb
Vagabond if Providence had not made me a justice of the peace
We pass a considerable portion of our lives in a mimic warfare
What will not habit accomplish
What we wish, we readily believe
What we wish we readily believe
When you pretended to be pleased, unluckily, I believed you
Whenever he was sober his poverty disgusted him
Whiskey, the appropriate liquor in all treaties of this nature
Whose paraphrase of the book of Job was refused
Wretched, gloomy-looking picture of woe-begone poverty





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