UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES <^ ■fi 1 a ^ 1 JACK HINTON THE GUARDSMAN JACK HINTON THE GUARDSMAN BY CHARLES LEVER » J • > ' , LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limited Broadway, Lupgate Hill GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK CHARLES LEVER'S WORKS. THE "HARRY LORREQURR" EDITION. In Crown %vo, with Illnsiratiotis. Harry Lorrequer. The Dodd Family, vol. x. Jack Hinton. Tht Dodd Family, vol. a. Charles O'Malley, voL I. Luttrell of Arran. Charles O'Malley, voL a. Davenport Dunn, vol. x. Con Cregan. Davenport Dunn, vol. 2. The O'Donoghue. The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly. Tom Buike, vol. x. Lord Kilgobbin. Tom Burke, voL a. The Martins of Cro' Martin, vol. ». One of Them. The Martins of Cro' Martin, vol. a. The Daltons, vol. i. That Boy of Norcott's. The Daltons, vol. 2. The Fortunes of Glencore. The Knight of Gwynne, voL I. Sir Jasper Carew. The Knight of Gwyn.ie, voL 3. Ilaurioe Tiemay. Arthur O'Leary. A Daj 's Ride : A Life's Romance. Roland Cashel; vol \, < ,■» ■ ' . Tony Butler. ! Roland Cashel. voL »<' .' '.<■'» • • ; Sir BrooKe FosbrooK \ . Bairmgtoa. Horace Tempietoa. L. CO CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. FAoa A Family Party 1 CHAPTER ir. The Irish Packet 5 CHAPTER III. The Castle 11 CHAPTER IV. The Breakfast 20 CHAPTER V. The Revikw in the Phcknix 31 CHAPTER VI. The Sham Battle 35 CHAPTER VII. The Rooneys 43 CHAPTER VIII. The Visit 50 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. PAGE The Ball 56 CHAPTER X. A Finale to an Evening , QQ CHAPTER XI. A Negotiation 76 CHAPTER XII. A Waqek 81 CHAPTER XIII. A NiQHT OF Trouble 89 CHAPTER XIV. The Parting . . .99 CHAPTER XV. The Letter from Home 103 CHAPTER XVI. ' A Morning in Town 108 CHAPTER XVII. An Eveking in Town 115 CHAPTER XVIII. A Confidence . 128 CONTENTS. ii: CHAPTER XIX. PAGE The Canai, Boat 134 CHAPTER XX. Shannon Haubour .,..,.... 140 CHAPTER XXI. Locohrea 148 CHAPTER XXII. A MooNLiouT Canter 158 CHAPTER XXIII. Major Mahon and his Quarters 164 CHAPTER XXIV. The Dkvil's Gkip 1G8 CHAPTER XXV. The Steeplk-Cuase 17G CHAPTER XXVI. Tin; DiN.Nr,K-P.\RTY at Mount-Brown 18G t CHAPTER XXVIt. The Race Ball 191 CHAPTER XXVIII. The Inn Fire 200 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXIX. PACE The Duel 209 CHAPTER XXX. A CoTJNTRT Doctor 215 CHAPTER XXXI. The Letter-Bag 219 CHAPTER XXXII. Bob Mahon and the Widow 224 CHAPTER XXXIII. The Priest's Gig 230 CHAPTER XXXIV. The Mountain Pass 234 CHAPTER XXXV. The Journey , . . . 243 CHAPTER XXXVI. Murranakilty ■ . . . 254 CHAPTER XXXVII. Sir Simon 2.19 CHAPTER XXXVIII. St. Sknan's Wui.l 267 CONTENTS. xi CHAPTEll XXXIX. PAGE n An Unlooked-for Mbetinq 27o CHAPTER XL. Tm: Triests Kitchen • . 283 CHAPTER XLI. Tu'PERARr Joe , 288 CHAPTER XLII. The High Road 2»1 CHAPTER XLIII. Thk Assize Town .... -» . . o 297 CHAPTER XLI v. The Bar Dinner ......... 301 CHAPTER XLV. The Return . . « 304 CHAPTER XLVL Farewell to Ireland 305 CHAPTER XLVn. London 314 CHAPTER XLVIII. An Unhappy Disclosure • . 319 Xii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XLIX. PAGE The Horse Guards 324 CHAPTER L. The Retreat from Burqos ....... 331 CHAPTER LI. A MiBHAP = ... 335 CHAPTER LII. The March . . 342 CHAPTER LIII. VlTTORIA '^^^ CHAPTER LIV. The Retrkat '^"'^ CHAPTER LV. The Focr-in-Hand 362 CHAPTER LVI. Sx. Denis 307 CHAPTER LVI I Paris in 1814 371 CHAPTER LVIII. The "Roni Fete" 381 CONTENTS. xiii CHAPTER LIX. PAGE "Fresoati" . ... 392 CHAPTER LX. Disclosures 403 CHAPTER LXI. New Arrivals 412 CHAPTER LXII. CONOLUSIUN . /16 Ekvot o . 419 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. ' We were all very * pipe-clay,* I freely confess, Though I see not why that should alarm ye : It's tol'rably clear, if ye dine at a mess, You'll now and then hear of the army ; And in fact for nought else will you ever find room, Nor e'en a sly syllabic cram, While they rave of Barossa and Bcrgen-op-Zoom, Salamanca, Seringapatam. " What a noise ! — ^what a din ! — what a Babel ! I'm sure That no one e'er heard such a racket ; One old general's describing the siege of Namur, And an older, the fight at Malplaquet. But the glories of Spain, and of Portugal, too. Have nearly eclipsed old ' Malbrook ; ' And if any one whisper the word Waterloo, We rise with three cheers to * the Duke.' " The AIess, a Poem. NOTICI-:, LIMINARY OR rRELnilNAllY. "My Dkar Lorrequer, " As there is no possibility of even guessing liow far your ' Irish impudence' and the good nature of the public may lead you, a number of us have resolved on swimming with the current we cannot stem, and, as you seem determined to ' take our lives,' we feel the best thing we can do is to offer them to you frcel)'. '• A little knot— some on full, some on half, some on no pay — of every age and rank in the service, from the lieutenant-general to the junior ensign, of every arm, from the sepoy to the sapper, have agreed to form a reunion under the name of ' Our Mess,' where, meeting together, we can chat over and communicate such incidents of our early days as possibly might amuse the public, and at all events will prevent our being presented to their notice with more follies, faults, and absurdities than we can justly lay claim to. "I need not tell you that our number was soon made up; some liked the gossip of the thing, others the jollity; one was pleased with the publicity, another with the punch, and not a few were frightened by the fate of Monsoon. " We give you, theu, all right and title to our memoirs and reminiscences ; you have carte hhinclie as to style and every other matter of book-making, of which we suppose you under- C xviii NOTICE. stand something, and we are convinced we know nothing ; and have only one parting injunction, which is, to treat us as tenderly as the trade will permit. " Believe me yours, my dear Lorrequer, "Tom O'Flaiierty. " Badajos Lodge, Windermere. " P.S.— We have a stray Adonis or two among us who would prefer it if your friend Phiz could come down here for their portraits, instead of trusting to chance, or, worse still, your vile descriptions ; try if this could be managed. "P.P.S. — Don't you think it would be a polite attention to send us the thing as it comes out monthly ? " T. O'F." This free-and-easy epistle, most kind iDublic, we present to you verbatim, with the double object of showing to what indignities we are exposed for your sake, and also of explaining the motive of the present publication — to maintain with you an intimacy which is at once the pride and pleasure of our life; to continue, on any terms, an acquaintance which to us has been but a source of unceasing satisfaction, we have put our honest indig- nation in our pocket, and accepted our friend's proposal. Taking " OuB. Mess " as our title, we purpose to give you the memoirs of its members, suffering each man to tell his story, if he have one, in his own way. We shall interfere little with their claims to authorship, while we indulge the solitary hope that they may 23rove as agreeable in type as we have known some of them at table. We remember once, in a ramble through the classic precincts of the liberties in Dublin, to have assisted at a species of lottery in which, for the payment of one shilling, you had a dive into a sack supposed to contain wigs of every shape and colour, from the "judge " to the "jasy." The disappointment and dismay of the luckless candidates who, by the fickleness of fortune, invariably drew forth the opposite to their wishes— the spruce NOTICE. xix apprentice falling upon a " scratch,'' while a cobbler flourished a full bottom that had figured in Chancery — diverted U3 for a considerable time. The lesson, however, has lingered in our memory and shall not be lost. Adopting the same method with our manuscripts, while we utter the honest invitation of our predecessor, — No favour or affection, gentlemen; all fair, and only one shilling — we draw forth, at random, what comes first to our hand, and here present you with JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. CHAPTER I. A FAMILY PARTY. It was on a dark and starless night in February, 181 -. as the lasit carriage of a dinner party Lad driven from the door of a large house in St. James's-square, when a party drew closer around the drawing-room fire, apparently bent upon that easy and familiar chit-chat the presence of company interdicts. One of these was a large and fine-looking man of about five- and-forty, who, dressed in the full uniform of a general officer, wore besides the ribbon of the Bath ; he leaned negligently upon the chimney-piece, and, with his back towards the fire, seemed to follow the current of his own reflections : this was my father. Beside him, but almost concealed in the deep recess of a well- cushioned /tt!'J(j(ti7, sat or rather lay a graceful but somewhat passee figure, who with an air of languid repose was shading her fine complexion as well from the glare of the fire as the trying brilliancy of an Argand lamp upon the mantel-piece. Her rich dress, resplendent with jewels, wliile it strangely con- trasted with the careless alxDuloa of her attitude, also showed that she had bestowed a more than common attention that day upon her toilette : this, fair reader, was my mother. Opposite to her, and disposed in a position of rather studied gracefulness, lounged a tall, thin, fashionable-looking man, with a dark olive complexion, and a short black moustache He wore in the button-hole of his blue coat the ribbon of .St. Louis. The Count de Grammont, for such he was, was an enilgrc noble, who, attached to the fortunes of the Bourbons, had resided for some years in London, and who, in the double capacity of adviser of my father and admirer of my lady 2 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. mother, obtained a considerable share of influence in the family and a seat at its councils. At a little distance from the rest, and apparently engaged with her embioiderj, sat a very beautiful girl, whose dark hair and long Ipshes deepened the seeming paleness of features a Greek scrlptcr might have copied. While nothing could be more perfect than the calm loveliness of her face and the delicate pencilling of her slightly-arched eyebrows, an accurate observer could detect that her tremulous lip occasionally curled with a passing exjjression of half scorn, as from time to time she turned her eyes towards each speaker in turn, while she herself maintained a perfect silence. My cousin. Lady Julia Egerton, had indeed but that one fault: shall I venture to call by so harsh a name that spirit of gentle malice which loved to look for the ludicrous features of every thing around her, and inclined her to indulge what the French call the " esprit onoqtieur" even on occasions when her own feelings were interested? The last figure of the group was a stripling of some nineteen years, who, in the uniform of the Guards, was endeavouring to seem perfectly easy and unconcerned, while it was evident that his sword-knot divided his attention with some secret thoughts that rendered him anxious and excited : this was myself. A silence of some moments was at length broken by my mother, who, with a kind of sigh Miss O'Neill was fond of, turned towards the count and said, — " Do confess, count, we were all most stupid to-day. Never did a dinner go off so heavily. But it's always the penalty one pays for a royal duke. Apropos, general, what did he say of Jack's appointment ? " " Nothing could be more kind, nothing more generous than his Royal Highness. The very first thing he did in the room was to jjlace this despatch in my hands. This, Jack," said my father, turning to me, "this is your appointment as an extra aide-de-camp." " Very proper indeed," interposed my mother ; " I am very hap])y to think you'll be about the court. Windsor, to be sure, is stupid." " He is not likely to see much of it," said my father, drily. " Oh, you think he'll be in town, then ? " "Why, not exactly that either." " Then what can you mean P " said she, with more of anima- tion than before. " Simply, that his appointment is on the staff in Ireland." " In Ireland ! " repeated my mother, with a tragic start. " In Ireland ! " " In Ireland ! " said Lady Julia, in a low, soft voice. •' En Irelandc ! " echoed the count, with a look of well got JACK IIINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 3 np horror, as he elevated his eyebrows to the very top of his foreht-ad; while I myself, to whom tho comniunication was as sudden and as unexpected, assumed a kind ot" soldier-like inditl'i rence, as though to say, what matters it to me, what do I care for tho rigours of climate? the snows of the Caucasus, or the suns of Bengal are quite alike; even Ireland, if His Majesty's service require it. '* Ireland," repeated my mother once more; "I veallv never lieard anything so very shocking. But, my dear Jack, you can't think of it. Surely, general, you had presence of mind to decline." "To accept, and to thank most gratefully his Royal Highness for such a mark of his favour, for this I had quite presence of mind," said my father, somewhat haughtily. " And you really will go, Jack ? " " INIost decidedly," s;iid I, as I jjnt on a kind of Godefroy-de- Bouillon look, and strutted about the room. " And pray what can induce you to suoh a step ? '' " Oa'i, 'que diahlti allait- il /aire dans cctfe (jalere i^"* said the count. '■ By Jove," cried my father, hastll3% " you are both intoler- able; you wished your boy to be a Guardsman in opposition to my desire for a regiment on service. You would have him an aide-de-camp : now he is both one and the other. In Heaveu'.s name, what think ye of getting him made a lady of the bed- chamber ? for it's the only appointment I am aware of " "You are too absurd, general," said my mother, pettislily. " Count, pray touch tlic bell ; that tire is so very hot, and I really was quite unprepared for this piece of news." "And you, Julia," said I, leaning over the back of my cousin's chair, " what do you say to all this ? " " I've just been thinking what a pity it is I should have wasted all my skill and my worsted on this foolish rug, while I could have been embroidering a gay banner for our joung knight bound for the wars. ' I'artant pour la S//rio,' '' hummed she, half pcnsivel}', while I could see a struggling eli'ort to suppress a laugh. I turned indignantly away, and walked towards the tire, where the count was expending his consola- tions on my mother. "After all, miladi,ii is not so bad as you think in the provinces ; I once spent three weeks in Brittany, very pleasantly indeed : oiii, pardica, it's quite true. To be sure, we had Perlet, apd Mademoiselle Mars, and got up the Precieuses Rldicides as well as in Paris." The application of this very apposite fact to Ireland was clearly satisfactory to my mother, who smiled benignly at the speaker, while my father turned upon him a look of the most indescribable import. 4 JACK HI N TON, THE GUARDSMAN. "Jack, my boy !" said he, talcinpf me by the arm, "were I your age, and had no immediate prosjiect of active service, I should prefer Ireland to any country in the world. I have plenty of old friends on the staff there. The duke himself was my schoolfellow " " I hope he will be properly attentive," interrupted my mother. "' Dear Jack, remind me to-morrow to write ^o Lady Mary." " Don't mistake the country you're going to," continued my father; "you will find many things very different from what you are leaving; and, above all, be not over ready to resent, as an injury, what may merely be intended as a joke ; your brother officers will always guide you on these points.'' '• And above all things," said my mother, with great earnest- ness, "do not adopt that odious fashion of weai-ing their hair. I've seen members of both houses, and particularly that little man they talk so much of, Mr. Grattan, I believe they call him " " Make your mind perfectly easy on that head, my lady," said my father, drily, " your son is not particularly likely to resemble Heni-y Grattan." My cousin Julia alone seemed to relish the tone of sarcasm he spoke in, for she actually bestowed on him a look of almost grateful acknowledgment. "The carriage, my lady," said the servant, and at the same moment my mother, jjossibly not sorry to cut short the dis- cussion, rose from her chair. " Do you intend to look in at the duchess's, general?" " For half-an-hour," replied my father ; " alter that I have my letters to write. Jack, you know, leaves us to-morrow. ' "'Tis really very provoking," said my mother, turning at the same time a look towards the count. " A vos orclres, tnadanie," said he, bowing with an air of most deferential politeness, while he presented his arm for her acceptance. " Good night, then," cried I, as the j^arty left the room ; " I have so much to do and to think of, I shan't join you."' I turned to look for Lady Julia, but she was gone, when and how I knew not; so I sat down at the fire to ruminate alone over my present position, and my prospects for the future. * -x- * * * * -x- These few and imperfect passages may put the reader in possession of some, at least, of the circumstances which accompanied my outset in lift; and if they be not sufficiently explicit, I can only say, that he knows fully as much of me as at the period in question I did of myself At Eton I had been what is called rather a smart boy, but incorrigibly idle; at Sandhurst 1 showed more ability and JACK niNTOiX, THE GUARDSMAN. 5 more disinclination to learn. By the favour of a royal diiko (who had been my god-father) my commission in a xnarchint,' refTiment was exchanged for a Kccond lieutenancy m the (juards ; and at the tunc I write of, T had been some six months in tlie service, wliicli I sjtent in all the whirl and excitement of Lon- don society. My father, who, bes'dos being a distinguished officer, was one of the most popular men among the dubs, my mother, a London beauty of some twenty years' standing, were claims suHioent to ensure me no common share of attention, wliile I added to the nnmbcr what, in my own estimation at least, were certain very decided advantages of a purely personal nature. • To obviate, as far as might be, the evil results of such a career, my father secretly sued for the appointment on the staff of the noble duke, then viceroy of Ireland, in preference to what my mother contemplated — my being attached to the rriyal household. To remove me alike from the enervating inlluence of a mother's vanity, and the extravagant profusion and voluptuous abandonment of London habits, this was his object. He calculated, too, that by new ties, new associations, and new objects of ambition, 1 should be better prepared, ami more desirous of that career of real service to which in his heart he destined me: these were his notions at least; the result must be gleaned from my story. CHArTER IL THE IRISH PA C K KT. A FKW nights after the conversation I have briefly alluded to, and pretty much about the same time, I aroused myself from the depression of nearly thirty hours' sea-sickness, on hearing that at length we were in the bay of Dublin. Hitherto I had never left the ])recincts of the narrow deu, denominated my berth ; but now I made my way eagerly on deck, anxious to catch a glim]>&c, however faint, of that bold coast I had more than once heard comiiaved with, or even preferred to, Naples. The night, however, was falling fast, and, worse still, a perfect down()our of rain was falling with it; the sea ran high, and swept the little craft from stem to stern; the spars bent like whips, and our single top.sail strained and stretched as though at every fresh plunge it would part company with us altogether. No trace or outline of the coast could I detect on any side ; a deep red light appearing and disapjiearing at intervals, as we rode upon or sank beneath the trough of the sea, was all that 6 JACK HTNTOA] THE GUARDSWAN my eye could perceive : this, the dripping helrasman briefly informed me, was the " Ivish ; " but as he seemed little disposed for conversation, I was left to my unassisted ingenuity to make out r whether it represented any point of the capital we were approaching or not. The storm of wind and rain increasing at each moment drove me once more back to the cabin, where, short as had been the period of my absence, the scene had undergone a most important change. Up to this moment my sufferings and my seclusion gave me little leisure or opportunity to observe my fellow-travellers. The stray and scattered fragments of con- versation that reached me rather puzzled than enlightened me. Of the topics which I innocently supposed occupied all human attention, not a word was dropped ; Carlton House was not once mentioned ; the St. Leger and the Oaks not even alluded to ; whether the Prince's breakfast was to come off at Knights- bridge or Fi'Ogmore, no one seemed to know or even care; nor was a hint dropped as to the fashion of the new bearskins the Guai'ds were to sport at the review on Hounslow. The price of pigs, however, in Ballinasloe, they were perfect in. Of a late row in Ivil something — where one half of the population had massacred the other — they knew everything, even to the names of the defunct. A few of the better-dressed chatted over country matters, from which I could glean that game and gentry were growing gradually scarcer ; but a red-nosed, fat old gentleman, in rusty black and high boots, talked down the others by an eloquent account of the mawling that he, a certain Father Tom Loftus, had given the Revei'end Paul Strong, at a late controversial meeting in the Rotunda. Through all this " bald, disjointed chat," unceasing demands were made for bottled porter, " matarials," or spirits and wather, of which, were I to judge from the frequency of the requests, the consumption must have been awful. There would seem something in the very attitude of lying that induces reflection, and, thus stretched at full length in my berth, I could not help ruminating upon the land I was approach- ing, in a spirit, which, I confess, accorded much more v/ith my mother's prejudices than my father's convictions. From the few chance phrases dropped ai'ound me, it appeared that evea the peaceful pursuits of a country market, or the cheerful sports of the field, were followed up in a spirit of recklessness and devilment ; so that many a head that left home without a care went back with a crack in it. But to come back once more to the cabin. It must be borne in mind that some thirty odd years ago the passage between Liverpool and Dublin was not, as at present, the rapid flight of a dozen hours, from shore to shore; whereon one evening you left the thundering din of waggons, and the iron crank of cranes and windlasses, to wake JACK I I INTO N, THE GUARDSMAN. 7 the next morning with the rich broj^ue of Paddy floating softly around you : far from it ; the tiling was then a voyage. You took a solemn leave of your frieiulH, you tore yourself from the embraces of your family, and, with a tear in your eye and a hamper on your arm, you betook yourself to the pier, to watch, with an anxious and a beating heart, every steji of tlie three hours preceding that heralded your departure. In those days there was some honour in being a traveller; and the man who had crossed the Cliannel a couple of times became a kind of Captain Cook among his acquaintances. The most singular feature of the whole, however, and the one to which I am now about to allude, proceeded i'rom the fact that the steward in those days, instead of the extensive resources of the present period, had little to offer 3'ou, save some bad brandy and a biscuit ; and each traveller had to look to his various wants with an accuracy and foresight tliat required both tact and habit. The niere demands of hunger and thirst were not only to be considered in the abstract, but a point of far greater difficulty, the probable length of the voyage, was to be taken into consideration ; so that you bought your beef- steaks with your eye upon the barometer, and laid in your mutton by the age of the moon. While thus the agency of the season was made to re-act upon your stomach, in a manner doubtless highly conducive to the interests of science, your part became one of the most critical nicety. Scarcely were you afloat and on the high seas, when your appetite was made to depend on the aspect of the weather. Did the wind blow fresh and fair, you eat away with a careless ease and a happy conscience, highly beneHcial to your digestion. With a glance tlirough the sky-light at the blue heaven, with a sly look at the prosperous dog-vane, you helped yourself to the liver wing, and took an extra glass of your sherry. Let the breeze fall, however, let a calm come on, or, worse still, a tramping noise on deck, and a certain rickety motion of the craft betoken a change of wind, the knife and fork fell listlessly from your hand, the uplifted cutlet was consigned to your plate, the very spoonful of gravy you had devoured in imagina- tion was drojiped upon the dish, and you replace the cork in your bottle, with the sad sigh of a man who felt that, instead of his income he has been, hving on the principal of his fortune. Happily, there is a reverse to the medal, and this it was to which now my attention was directed. The trip, as occasion- ally happened, was a rapid one; and while under the miserable impression that a fourth part of the journey had not been accom- plished, we were blessed with the tidings of land. Scarcely was the word uttered, when it flew from mouth to mouth ; and I thought I could trace the elated look of proud and happy 8 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. hearts, as borne drew iiear. What was my surprise, however, to see the enthusiasm tate another and very different channel. With one accoi'd a general rush was made upon the hampers of jirog. Baskets were burst open on every side. Sandwiches and sausages, porter bottles, cold punch, chickens and hard eggs, were strewn about with a careless and reckless profusion ; none seemed too sick oi'- too sore for this general epidemic of feasting. Old gentlemen sat up in their beds and bawled for beef; children of tender years brandished a drum-stick. Indi- viduals who but a short half-hour befoi-e seemed to have made a hearty meal, testified by the ravenous exploits of their appetites to their former forbearance and abstemiousness. Even the cautious little man in the brown spencer, that wrapt up the remnant of his breakfast in the Times, now opened his whole store, and seemed bent upon a day of rejoicing. Never was such a scene of riotous noise and tumultuous mirth. Those who scowled at each other till now, hob-nobbed across the table ; and simpering old maids cracked merry thoughts with gay bachelors, without even a passing fear for the result. " Thank Heaven !" said I, aloud, " that I, see all this with my sense and my intellects clear about me." Had I suddenly awoke to such a prospect from the disturbed slumber of sickness, the chances were ten to one I had jumped overboard and swam for my life. In fact, it could convey but one image to the mind, such as we read of, when some infuriated and reckless men, despairing of safety, without a hope left, resolve upon closing life in the mad orgies of drunken abandonment. Here were the meek, the tranquil, the humble minded, the solitary, the sea-sick, all suddenly converted into riotous and roistering feasters. The lips thait scarcely moved now blew the froth from a porter cup with the blast of a Boreas : and even the small urchin in the green face and nankeen jacket bolted hard eggs with the dexterity of a clown in a panto- mime. The end of all things (eatable) had certainly come. Chickens were dismembered like felons, and even jokes and witticisms were bandied upon the victuals. What, if even yet, thought I, the wind should change ? The idea was a malicious one, too horrible to indulge in. At this moment the noise and turmoil on deck apprised me that our voyage was near its termination. The night, as I have said, was dark and stormy. It rained too — as it knows only how to rain in Ireland. There was that steady persistence, that persevering monotony of downpour, which, not satisfied with wetting you to the skin, seems bent upon converting your very blood into water. The wind swept in long and moaning gusts along the l)leak pier, which, late and inclement as it was, seemed crowded with people. Scarcely was a rope thrown ashore, when we were boarded on every s^ide, yACK niXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. by the riggiiifr, on the shrouds, over the bulwarks, from the anchor to the taftVail; the whole population of the island 3eemed to liock in upon us; while sounds of welcome and recoirnition resounded on all sides — " How are yon, Mister Maguire ? " " Is the mistress with you ? " " Is that you, Mr. Tierney ? " " How are yon, ma'am ? " "And yourself, 'J'ini ? " " IJeantiful, glory be to God ! " "A groat jiassagc, entirely, ma'am." " Nothing but rain since 1 seen you."' "Take the trunks uj) to Mrs. Tunstall; and, Tim, darling, oysters and punch for four." " Great Mercy ! " said I, " eating again." " Morrisson, j^our honour," said a ragged rufHan, nudging me by the elbow. " lleilly, sir; isn't it? It's me, sir — the Club. I'm the man always drives your honour." " Arrah, howld your prate," said a deep voice, "the gentle- man hasn't time to bless himself." " It's me, sir ; Owen Daly, that has the black horse." "More, by token, with a spavin," whispered another, while a roar of laughter followed the joke. '' A car, sir — take you up in live minutes." " A chaise, your honour — do the thing dacently." ' Now, whether my hebitation at this moment was set down l)y the crowd of my solicitors to some doubt of my solvency or not, I cannot say; but true it is, tlieir tone of obsequious entreaty gradually changed into one of rather caustic criticism. " Maybe it's a gossoon you'd like to carry the httle trunk." " Let him alone ; it's only a carpet-bag; he'll carry it himself." "Don't you see the gentleman would rather walk; and as the night is fine, 'tis pleasanter — and— cheaper." " Take j-^ou for a fipp'ny bit and a glass of sparits," said Pj gruff voice in my ear. 13y this time I had collected my luggage together, whose im- posing appearance seemed once more to testify in my favour, particularly the case of my cocked hat, which to my ready- witted acquaintances proclaimed me a military man. A general rush was accordingly made upon my luggage; and while one man armed himself with a portmanteau, another la'd hands on a trunk, a third a carpet-bag, a fourth a gun-case, and so on, until I found myself keeping watch and ward over my epaulet-case and my umbrella, the sole remnant of mv effects. At the same moment a burst of laughter and a half Ifc JACtC HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN'. shout broke from the crowd, and a huge powerful fellow jumped on the deck, and, seizing me by the arm, cried out — " Come along now, captain . It's all right. This way — this way, sir." " But why am I to go with you ? " said I, vainly struggling to escape his grasp. " Why is it ? " said he, with a chuckling laugh ; " reasoi: enough — didn't we toss up for ye, and didn't I win ye." " Win me ! " " Ay ; just that same." By this time I found myself beside a car, upon which all mj luggage was already placed. " Get up now," said he. "It's a beautiful car, and a dliry cushion," added a voice near, to the manifest mirth of the bystanders. Delighted to escape my tormentors, I sprang up opposite to him, while a cheer, mad and wild enough for a tribe of Iroquois, yelled behind us. Away we rattled over the pavement, without lamp or lantern to guide our path, while the sea dashed its foam across our faces, and the rain beat in torrents upon our backs. " Where to, captain ? " inquired my companion, as he plied his whip without ceasing. " The Castle ; you know where that is ? " •Taix I ought," was the re]Aj. "Ain't I there at the levees. But howld fast, your honour; the road isn't good; and thei-e is a hole somewhere hereabouts." " A hole ! For Heaven's sake, take care. Do you know where it is ? " " Begorra, you're in it," was the answer; and, as he spoke, the horse went down head foremost, the car after him ; away flew the driver on one side, while I myself was shot some half dozen yards on the other, a perfect avalanche of trunks, boxes, and valises rattling about my doomed head. A crashing shower of kicks, the noise of the flying splinters, and the impre- cations of the carman, were the last sounds I heard, as a heavy imperial full of books struck me on the head, and laid me prostrate. Through my half-consciousness I could still feel the rain as it fell in sheets ; the heavy plash of the sea sounded in my ears; but, somehow, a feeliug like sleepiness crept over me, and I became insensible. JACK JIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. n CHAPTER III. THE CASTLE. WiiEX I next came to my senses I found myself lying upon a sofa ir a large room, of which I appeared the only occupant. A confused and misty recollection of my accident, some scattered fragments of my voyage, and a rather aching sensation in my head, were the only impressions of which I was well conscious. The last evening 1 spent at home was full in my memory, and I could not help thinking over my poor mother's direful anticijiations in my vain endeavours to penetrate what I felt had been a misfortune of some kind or other. The mystery was, however, too deep for my faculties ; and so, in despair of unravelling the past, I set myself to work to decipher the present. The room, I have already said, was large; and the celling, richly stuccoed and ornamented, spoke ot a day whose architecture was of a grand and massive character. The furni- ture, now old and time-worn, had once been handsome, even niagniticent. Eich curtains of heavy brocaded sdk, with deep gold fringes, gorgeously-carved and gilded chairs, in the taste of Louis XV.; marble consoles stood between the windows, and a mirror of gigantic pi'oportions occupied the chimney-breast. Years and neglect had not only done their worst, but it was evident that the hand of devastation had also been at work. The marbles were cracked ; few of the chairs were available for use; the massive lustre, intended to shine with a resplendent glare of fifty wax lights, was now made a resting-place for shakos, bear-skins, and foraging-caps ; an ominous-looking star in the looking-glass bore witness to the bullet of a pistol ; and the very Cupids carved upon the frame, who once were wont to smile blandly at each other, were now disfigured with coric moustachoes, and one of them even carried a pair of spurs in his mouth. Swords, sashes, and sabretasches, spurs, and shot- belts, with guns, fishing-tackle, and tandem whips, were hung here and there upon the walls, which themselves presented the strangest spectacle of all, there not being a portion of them unoccupied by caricature sketches, executed in every imaginable species of taste, style, and colouring. Here was a field-day in the park, in which it was easy to sec the prominent figures were portraits: there an enormous nose, surmounted by a grenadier cap, was passing in review some trembling and terrified soldiers. In another, a commander-of-the-tbrces was seen galloping down the lines, holding on by the pommel of the saddle. Over the sofa I occupied a levee at the castle was displayed, in which, if 12 JACK HI N'T ON, THE GUARDSMAi^. the company were not villanously libelled, the viceroy had little reason to be proud of his guests. There were also dinners at the Lodge ; guards relieved by wine-puncheons dressed up like field-ofScers ; the whole accompanied by doggrel verses explanatory of the views. The owner of this singular chamber had, however, not merely devoted his walls to the purposes of an album, but he had also made them perform the part of a memorandum-book. Here were the " meets " of the Kildare and the Dubber for the month of March ; there the turn of duty for the garrison, of Dublin, interspersed with such fragments as the following : — Mem.^To dine at Mat Kean's on Tuesday, 4th Not to pay Hennesy till he settles about the handicap To ask Courtenay for Fanny Burke's fan ; the same Fanny has pretty legs of her own To tell Holmes to have nothing to do with Lanty Moore's niece, in regard to a reason ! Five to two on Giles' two-year- old, if Tom likes N.B. — The mare is a roarer A heavenly day, what fun they must have !— may the devil tire Tom O'Flaherty, or I would not be here now. These and a hundred other similar passages figured on every side, leaving me in a state of considerable mystification, not as to the character of my host, of which I could guess something, but as to the nature of his abode, which I could not imagine to be a barrack-room. As I lay thus pondering tlie door cautiously opened, and a figure appeared, which, as I had abundajit leisure to examine it, and as the individual is one who occasionally turns up in the course of my history, 1 may as ^vell take the present opportunity of presenting to my reader. The man who entered, scarcely more than four feet and a half high, might be about sixty years of age. His head, enormously disproportion ed to the rest of his figure, presented a number of flat surfaces, as though nature had originally destined it for a crystal. Upon one of these planes the eyes were set ; and although as far apart as possible, yet upon such terms of distance were they, that they never, even by an accident, looked in the same direction. The nose was short and snubby ; the nostrils wide and expanded, as if the feature had been pitched against the face in a moment of ill-temper, and flattened by the force. As for the moutli, it looked like the malicious gash of a blunt instrument, jagged, ragged, and uneven. It had not even the common-place ad- vantage of being parallel to the horizon, but ran in an oblique direction from right to left, enclosed between a parenthesis of the crankiest wrinkles that ever human cheek were creased by. The head would have been bald but for a scanty wig, techni- cally called a "jasy," which, shrunk by time, now merely occupied the apex of the scalp, where it moved about with every action of the forehead and eyebrows, and waa thus made to minister to the expression of a hundred emotions that other JALK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 13 men's wi<^s know nothing about. Trul}', it was the strangest peruke that ever covered a human cranium. I do not behevo tliat anotlier like it ever existed. It had nothing in common with other wigs. It was hke its owner, jK'rf'ectly sid rjeiicriii. It had not tlie easy How and wavy curl of the old beau. It had not the methodical precision and rectilinear propriety of the elderly gentleman. It was not full, like a lawyer's, nor horse-shoed, like a bishop's. No. It was a cross-grained, ill- tempered, ill-conditioned old scratch, that looked like nothing under heaven save the husk of a hedge-hog. The dress of this strange figure was a suit of very gorgeous light-brown livery, with orange facings, a green plush waist- coat and shorts, frogged, Happed, and embroidered most lavishly with gold lace, silk stockings, witli shoes, whose enormous buckles covered nearly the entire foot, and rivalled, in their paste brilliancy, tlie piercing brightness of the wearer's eye. Having closed the door carefully behind him, he walked towards the chimney, with a certain air of solemn and imposing dignity that very nearly overcame all ni}'' efforts at seriousness ; his out-stretched and expanded hands, his averted toes and waddling gait, giving him a most distressing resemblance to the spread eagle of Prussia, liad that respectable bird been pleased to take a promenade in a showy livery. Having snuffed the candles, and lieli)ed himself to a pinch of snuff from a gold box on the mantelpiece, he stuck his arms, nearly to the elbows, in the ample j^ockets of his coat, and with his head a little elevated, and his uiuler-lip slightly ]irotrnded, seemed to meditate upon the mutability of human affairs, and the vanity of all worldly pursuits. I coughed a couple of times to attract his attention, and, having succeeded in catching his eye, I begged, in my blandest imaginable voice, to know where I was. " Where are ye, is it? " said he, repeating my question in a tone of the most sharp and querulous intonation, to which not even his brogue could lend one touch of softness. " Where are ye? and where would you like to be? or where would any one be that was disgracing himself, or bla3kguarding about the streets till he got his head cut and his clothes torn, but in Master Phil's room : devil other comjiany it's used to. Well, v/ell ! It is more like a watch-house nor a gentleman's parlour, the same room. It's little his father, the judge.'' — here ho crossed himself piously — " it is little he thought the company his son would be keeping; but it is no matter. I gave him warning last Tuesday, and with the blessing o' God " The remainder of this speech was lost in a low muttering grumble, whicli I afterwards learned was his usual manner of closing an oration. A few broken and indistinct phrases being only audible, such as—" Sarve you right,"—" Fifty years in the P 14 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. family,"— " Slaving like a negur,"— " Oh, the Turks! tlie Haythins ! " Having waited what I deemed a reasonable time for his honest indignation to evaporate, I made another effort to ascer- tain who my host might be. " Would you favour me," said I, in a tone still more insinuat- ing, " with the name of " " It's my name ye want ? Oh, sorrow bit I am ashamed of it ! Little as you think of me, Cornelius Delany is as good a warrant for family as many a one of the dirty spalpeens abouu the coort, that haven't a civiler word in their mouth than Cross Corny ! Bad luck to them for that same." This honest admission as to the world's opinion of Mister Delany's character was so far satisfactory as it enabled me to see with whom I had to deal; and, although for a moment or two it was a severe struggle to prevent myself bursting into laughter, I fortunately obtained the mastery, and once more returned to the charge. " And now. Mister Delany, can you inform me how I came here ? I remember something of an accident on my landing ; but when, where, and how, I am totally ignorant." " An accident ! " said he, turning up his eyes, " an accident, indeed ! that's what they always call it, when they wring off the rappers, or bate the watch: ye came here in a hackney-coach, with the police, as many a one came before you." " But where am I ? " said I, impatiently. "In Dublin Castle; bad luck to it for a riotous disorderly place." " Well, well," said I, half angrily, " I want to know whose room is this P " " Captam O'Grady's ; — what have you to say agin the room ; — maybe you're used to worse. There now, that's what you got for that. I'm laving the place next week, but that's no rason " Here he went off, diminuendo, again, with a few flying im- precations upon several things and j^ersons unknown. Mr. Delany now dived for a few seconds into a small pantry at the end of the room, from which he emerged with a tray between his hands, and two decanters under his arms. " Draw the little table this way," he cried, " more towards the fire ; for, av coorse, you're fresh and fastin' : there now, take the sherry from under my arm — the otlier's port : that was a ham, till Captain Mills cut it away, as ye see — there's a veal pic, and here's a cold grouse — and maybe you've eat worse before now — and will again, plaze God." I assured him of the truth of liis observation in a most con- ciliating tone. '' Oh, the devil fear ye," was the reply, while he murmured JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 15 somewhat lower — " the half of yccs isn't used to meat twie.o m the week." "Capital faro, this, Mr. Delaiiy," saiel I, as, half famished with long iastiiiy, 1 helped iiiy.sult a second time. " You're eating as if you hked it," said he, with a shrug of his shoulders. " Upon my word," said I, after throwing down a bumper of sherry, "that's a very pleasant glass of wine; and, on the whole, I should say, there are worse places than this in the world." A look of unutterable contempt — whether at me for my dis- covery, or at the oi)inion itself, 1 can't say — was the sole reply of my friend ; who, at the same moment, presuming I had sufficient opportunities for the judgment I pronounced, re- placed the decanters upon the tru}', and disappeared with the entire in the most grave and solemn manner. Kepressing a veiy great inclination to laughter, I sat still ; and a silence of a few moments ensued, when Mr. Delany walked towards the window, and, drawing aside the curtains, looked out. All was in darkness, save ou the opposite side of the court-yard, where a blaze of light fell upon the pavement from over the half shutters of an apparently .sjiaeious apartment. " Ay, ay, there you go ; hip, hip, hurrah! 30U waste more liquor every night than would tloat a lighter; that's all you're good for, '.jad luck to your grace— making fun of the people, laughing and singing as if the potatoes wasn't two shillings a stone." " What's going on there ^ " said I. " The ould work, nather more nor less. The lord liftinnant, and the bishops, and the jidges, and all the privy councillors, roaring drunk. Listen to them. May I never if it isn't the dean's voice I hear — the ould beast ; he is singing ' The IN ight before Larry was stretched.' " " That's a good fellow. Corny — i\Ir. Delany I mean — do open the window for a little, and let's hear them." " It's a blessed night you'd have the window open to listen to a set of drunken devils: but here's Master Phil; I know his step well. It's long before his father that's gone would come tearing up the stairs that way as if the bailifls was after liim; rack and ruin, sorrow else, av I never got a place — the Hay thins, the Turks." Mr. Delany, who, probably from motives of dulicac}', wished to spare his master the pain of an interview, made liis exit oy one door as he came in at the other. I had barely time to see that the person before me was in every respect the very opposite of his follower, when he called out in a rich, mellow voice — '•All right again, I hope, ^Mr. llinton ; it's the first moment I could get away ; wo had a dinner at the Privy Council, and some of them are rather late sitters ; you're not hurt, I trust ? " l6 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " A little bruised, or so, nothing more ; but pray, how did I fall into such kind hands ? " " Oh ! the watchman, it seems, could read, and, as your trunks were addressed to the Castle, they concluded you ought to go there also. You have despatches, haven't you ? " " Yes," said I, producing the packet ; " when must they be delivered ? " " Oh, at once Do you think you could make a little change in your dress, and manage to come over? his grace always likes it better ; there's no stiffness, no formality whatever : most of the dinner-party have gone home ; there are only a few of the government peo])le. the duke's friends, remaining, and, besides, he's always kind and good-natured." " I'll see what I can do," replied I, as I rose from the sofa ; " I put myself into your hands altogether." " Well, come along," said he : " you'll find everything ready in this room. I hope that old villain has left hot water. Corny, Corny, I say ; confound him, he's gone to bed, I suppose." Having no particular desire for Mr. Delany's attentions, I prevailed on his master not to disturb hi in, and jDroceeded to make my toilette as well as I was able. " Didn't that stupid scoundrel come near you at all ? " cried 0' Grady. "Oh, yes, we have had a long interview ; but, somehow, I fear 1 did not succeed in gaining his good graces." "The worst tempered old villain in Europe." " Somewhat of a character, I take it." " A crab-tree planted m a lime-kiln, cranky and cross-grained; but he is a legacy, almost the only one my father left me. I've done my best to part with him every day for the last twelve years, but he sticks to me like a poor relation, giving me warning every nijj^ht of his life, and every morning kicking up such a row in the house that every one is persuaded I am beating him to a jelly before turning him out to starve in the streets." " Oh, the llaythins, the Turks," said I, slily. "Confound it!" cried he, "the old devil has been o]")ening upon you already ; and yet, with all that, I don't know how I should get on without Corny ; his gibes, his jeers, his ever- lasting ill-temper, his crankiness that never sleeps, seems to agree with me: the fact is, one enjoys the world from its contrasts. The olive is a poor thing in itself Imt it certainly improves the smack of your Burgundy. In this way Corny Delany does me good service. Come, by Jove, you hare not been long dressing. This way : now follow me." So saying, Captain O'Grady led the way down the stairs to the piazza, following which to the opposite side of the quadrangle we arrived at a brilliantly-lighted hall, where several servants in full-dress liveries were in waiting. Passhig hastily through JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 17 this, we mounlfd :i liamlsonn! staircase, am.1 traversing several ante-chambers, at leiiglh arrived at one whose contignity to the dinnerruoin 1 could guess at from the loud sound of many voices. " Wait one moment here," said my companion, " until I speak to his grace." lie disappeared as he spoke, but before a minute had elapsed lie was again beside me. " Come this way ; it's all right," said he. The next moment I found myself in the dinner-room. The scene before me was altogether so different from what Ihad expected, that for a moment or two I could scarce do aught else than stand still to survey it. At a table which had been laid for aliout forty persons, scarcely more than a dozen were now present. Collected together at one end of the board the whole party were roaring with laughter at some story of a strange, melancholy-looking man, whose whining voice added indescrib- able ridicule to the drollery of his narrative. Greyheaded general officers, grave-looking divines, lynx eyed lawyers, had all given way under the irresistible impulse, and the very table shook with laughter. "Mr. llinton, your excellency," said O'Grady, for the third time, while the duke wiped his eye with his napkin, and, pushing his chair a little back from the table, motioned me to a])proach. "Ah, llinton. glad to see you; how is your father, a very old friend of mine, indeed, and Lady Charlotte — well, I hope ? O'Grady tells me you've had an accident — something slight, I trust. So these are the despatches." Here he broke the seal of the envelope and ran his eye over the contents. " There, that's your concern." So saying, he jntched a letter across the table to a shrewd-looking personage in a horse-shoo wig. "They won't do it, dean, and we must wait. Ah !— so they don't like my new commissioners; but, Hinton, my boy, sit down. O'Grady, have you room there? a glass of wine with you." " Nothing the worse of your mishap, sir ?" said the melan- choly-looking man who sat op[)osite to me. I replied by briefly relating my accident. " Strange enough," said he, in a compassionate tone, " your head should have sufl'ered: your countrymen generally fall upon their legs in Ireland." This was said with a sly look at the viceroy, who, deep in his despatches, paid no attention to the allusion. "A very singular thing, I must confess," said the duke, laying down the pa|)er. " This is the fourtli time the bearer of despatches has met with an accident. If they dpn't run foul of a rock in the channel they are sure to have a delay on the pier." " It is so ratural, my lord," said the gloomy man, " that th& carriers should stop at the pigeon-house." 18 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. "Do be quiet, Curran," cried the duke, "and pass round the decanter, they'll not take the duty off claret, it seems." " And Day, my lord, won't put the claret on duty ; he has kept the wine at his elbow for the last half hour. Upon my soul, your grace ought to knight him." " Not even his excellency's habits," said a sharp, clever- looking man, " would excuse his converting Day into knight." Amid a shower of smart, caustic, and witty sayings, droll stories, retort and repartee, the wine circulated freely from hand to hand ; the j^reseuce of the duke adding fresh impulse to the sallies of fun and merriment around him. Anecdotes of tho army, the bench, and the bar, potu'ed iu unceasingly, accom- panied by running commentaries of the hearers, who never let slip an opportunity for a jest or a rejoinder. To me the most singular feature of all this was, that no one seemed too old or too dignified, too high in station or too venerable from office, to join in this headlong current of conviviality : austere churchmen, erudite chief-justices, profound politicians, privy councillors, mili- tary officers of high rank and standing, were here all mixed up together into one strange medley, apparently bent on throwing an air of ridicule over the graver business of life, and laughing alike at themselves and the world. Nothing was too grave for a jest, nothing too solemn for a sarcasm. All the soldier's experience of men and manners, all the lawyer's acuteness of perception and readiness of wit, all the politician's practised tact and habitual subtlety, were brought to bear upon the common topics of the day with such promptitude and such power, that one kuew not whether to be more struck by the mass of information they possessed, or by that strange fatality which could make men, so great and so gifted, satisfied to jest where they might be called on to judge. Play and politics, wine and women, debts and duels, were discussed not only with an absence of all restraint, but with a deep knowledge of the world, and a profound insight into the heart, which often imparted to the careless and random speech the sharpness of tlie most cutting sarcasm. Personalities too were rife : no one spared his neighbour, for he did not expect mercy for himself ; and the luckless wight who tripped in his narrative or stumbled in his story was assailed on every side, «Vxi.:iI some happy expedient of his own, or some new victim being discovered, the attack would take another direction, and leave him once more at liberty. I feel how sadly inadequate I am to render even the faintest testimony to the talents of those, any one of whom, in after life, would have been considered to have made the fortune of a dinner-party, and who now were met together, not in the careless ease and lounging indifference of relaxation, but in the open arena where wit niet wit, and where even the most brilliant talker, the happiest relator, 'yACK HINTON, THE GUAilDSMAN. 19 the quickest in sarcasm, and the readiest in reply, felt he liad need of ill! his weapons to defend and prolL'ct liim. This was no wiir of partizans, but a mi-lcn touriianient, where each man rode down his neighbour, witli no other reason for attack than the rent in his armour. Even the viceroy himself, who, as judge of the lists, miirht be supposed to enjoy an immunity, was not safe here, and many an an*ow, apparently shot at an adver- sary, was sent quivering into his corslet. As I watched with all the intense excitement of one to whom such a display was perfectly new, i could not help feeling how I'ortunate it was that the grave avocations and the venerable j)ursuits of the greater number of the party should prevent this firework of wit from bursting into the blaze of open animosity. I hinted as much to my neighbour, U'Grady, who at once broke into a tit of laughter at my ignorance ; and I now learnt to my amazement that the Common Pleas had winged the Exchequer, that the attorney-general had pinked the Rolls, and, stranger tlian all, that the provost of the univer- sity himself had planted his man in the rhocnix. " It is just as well for us," continued he in a whisper, " that the churchmen can't go out ; for the dean yonder can snuff a candle at twenty j^aces, and is rather a hot-tempered fellow to boot. But come, now ; his grace is about to rise. We have a field day to-moiTOw in the jiark, and break up somewhat earlier in consequence." As it was now near two o'clock I could see nothing to cavil at as to the earliness of the hour ; although I freely confess, tired and exhausted as I felt, I could not contemplate the moment of sejiaratiou without a sad ibrebodiug that I ne'er should look upon the like again. The party rose at this moment, and the duke, shaking hands coi'dially with each person as he passed down, wished i;s all a good night. I followed with O'Grady, and some others of the household, but when I reached the antechamber my new friend volunteered his services to see me to my quarters. On traversing the lower castle-yard we mounted an old- fashioned and rickety stair, which conducted to a gloomy, ill- lighted corridor. 1 was too much fatigued, however, to be critical at the moment; and so, having thanked O'Grady for all his kindness^, 1 Llirew off my clothes hastily, and before my head was well upon the pillow was sound asleep. 20 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDS M'AN. CHAPTER IV. THE BREAKFAST. There are few persons so unreflective as not to give way to a little self-examination, on waking, for the first time, in a strange place. _ The very objects about are so many appeals to your ingenuity or to your memory, that you cannot fail asking yourself how you became acquainted with them : the present is thus made the herald of the past, and it is difficult, when unravelling the tangled web of doubt that assails you, not to think over the path by which you have been travelling. As for nie, scarcely were my eyes opened to the light, I had barely thrown one glance around my cold and comfortless chamber, when thoughts of home came rushing to my mind. The warm earnestness of my father, the timid dreads of my poor mother, rose up before me. as I felt myself, for the first time, alone in the world. The elevating sense of heroism, that more or less blends with every young man's dreams of life, gilds our first journey from our father's roof. There is a feeling of freedom in being the arbiter of one's actions, to go where you will and when you will. Till that moment the world has been a comparative blank : the trammels of school or the ties of tutorship have bound and restrained you. You have been living, as it were, within the rules of court — certain petty privileges permitted, certain small liberties allowed : but now you come forth disenchanted, disen- thralled, emancipated, free to come as to go ; a man in all the plenitude of his volition, and, better still, a man without the heavy depressing weight of responsibility that makes manhood less a blessing than a burden. The first burst of life is indeed a glorious thing ; youth, health, hope, and confidence, have each a force and vigour they lose in after years. Life is then a splendid river, and we are swimming with the stream; no adverse ^vayes to weary, no billows to buffet us, we hold on our course rejoicing. The sun was peering between the curtains of niv window, and playing in fitful flashes on the old oak floor, as I lay thus ruminating and dreaming over the future. How many a resolve did I then make for my guidance ; how many an inten- tion did I form ; how many a groundwork of principle did I lay down, with all the confidence of youth ! I fashioned to myself a world after my own notions ; in which I conjured up certain imaginary difficulties, all of which were surmounted by my admirable tact and consummate cleverness. I remembered how, at both Eton and Sandhurst, the Irish boy was generally made the subject of some jest or quiz, at one time for hia JACK JUNTO N, THE GUARDSMAN. 21 accent, at another fur liis blumlcrs. As a Guardsman, short as had been my exjierieiice of the Kervice, I could plainly see that a certain indefinable tone of superiority was ever asserted towardn our friends across tlie sea. A wide-sweeping prejudice whose limits were neither founded in reason, justice, or common (sense, had thrown a certain air of undervaluing import over every one ami cverythinrr iVoni that country. !Not only were its faults and its ftjllies heavily visited, but those accidental and trilling blemishes — those slight, and scarce perceptible devia- tions from tiie arliitrary standard of fashion — were deemed the strong characteristics of the natiun, and condemned accord- ingly; while the slightest use of any exaggeration in speech — the commonest employment of a Hgnre or a metaphor — the casual introduction of an anecdote or a repartee were all heavily censured, and pronounced "so very Irish !" Let some fortune-hunter carry off an heiress, let a lady trip over her train at the drawing-room, let a minister blunder in his mission, let a powder-magazine explode and blow up one half of the surrounding population, there was but one expression to qualify all, " how Irish ! how very Irish ! " The adjective had become one of depreciation, and an Irish lord, an Irish member, an Irish estate, and an Irish diamond, were held pretty much in the same estimation. Reared in the very hotbed, the forcing-house of such exaggerated prejudice, while imbibing a very sufficient contempt for evervtliing in that country, I obtained proportioTiably alisurd notions ofall that was English. Uur principles may come from our fathers : our prejudices certainly descend from the female branch. Now, my mother, notwithstanding the example of the Prince Regent himself, whose chosen associates were Irish, was most thoroughly exclusive on this point. She would admit that a native of that country could be invited to an evening party under extreme and urgent circumstances — that some brilliant orator, whoso eloquence was at once the dread and the delight of the house— that some gifted poet, whose verses came home to the iieart alike of prince and peasant — that .the painter, whose canvas might stand unblushingly amid the greatest triumphs of art — could be asked to lionize for those cold and callous votaries of fashion, across the lake of whose stagnant nature no breath of feeling stirred, esteeming it the while, that in her card of invitation he was reaping the proudest proof of his success; but that such could be made acquaintances or companions, could be regarded in the light of equals or intimates, the thing never entered into her miaeination, and she would as soon have made a confidant of the King of Kongo as a gentleman from Connaught. Less for the purposes of dwelling upon my lady-mother's " Hibernian horrors," than of showing the school in which I 22 yACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. was trained, I have made this somewhat len,£;thened expose. It may, however, convey to my reader some faint impression of the feehngs which animated me at tlie outset of my career in Ireland. I have already mentioned the delight I experienced with the society at the viceroy's table. So much Icrilliancy, so much wit, so much of conversational power, tintil that moment I had no conception of. JSTow, however, while reflecting on it, I was actually astonished to find how far the whole scene contributed to the support of my ancient prejudices. I well knew that a party of the highest functionaries, bishops, and law-olncers of the crown, would not have conducted themselves in the same manner in England. I stopped not to inquire whether it was more the wit or the will that was wanting ; I did not dwell ui^on the fact that the meeting was a purely convivial one, to which I was admitted by the kindness and condescension of the duke ; but so easily will a warped and bigoted impression find food for its indulgence, I only saw in the meeting an addi- tional evidence of my early convictions. How fanny theorising on this point might have led me — whether eventually I should have come to the conclusion, that the Irish nation were lying in the darkest blindness of barbarism, while, by a special inter- vention of Providence, I was about to be erected into a species of double revolving light — it is difficult to say, when a tap at the door suddenly aroused me from my musings. "Are ye awake jot? " said a harsh, husky voice, like a bear m bronchitis, which I had no difficulty iu pronouncing to be Corny's. " Yes, come in," cried I ; " what hour is it ? " " Somewhere after ten," replied he, sulkily : " you're the first I ever heerd ask the clock in the eight years I have lived here. Are ye ready for your morning ? " " My what? " said I, with some surprise. " Didn't I say it plain enougli ? Is it the brogue that bothers you ? " As he said this with a most sarcastic grin, he poured, from a large jug he held in one hand, a brimming goblet full of some white compound, and handed it over to me. Preferring at once to ex})lore, rather than to question the intractable Corny, I put it to my lips, and found it to be capital milk punch, concocted with great skill, and seasoned with what O'Grady afterwards called " a notion of nutmeg." " Oh ! devil fear you, that ye'll like it. Sorrow one of you ever left as much in the iug as 'ud make a foot-bath for a flea." " They don't treat you over well, then, Corny?" said I, pur- posely opening the sorest wound of his nature. "Trate me well! faix, them that 'ud come here for good tratcmcnt would go to the devil for divarsion. There's Master JACK JIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 23 Phil himself, that I used to bate, when he was a chilJ, many's the tirae when his father, rest his sowl, was up at the courts, — ay, strapped him, till he hadn't a spot that wasn't sore an him. And look at him now; oh, wirra! you'd tliiidc I never took a ha'porth of pains willi him. Ugh! — the Haythins — tho Turks ! '•■ " This is all very bad, Corny ; hand me those boots." " And thim's boots ! " said he, with a contemptuous expression on his face that would have struck horror to the heart of Hoby. " Well, well." Here he looked up as though the pro- fligacy and degeneracy of the age were transgressing all bounds, '* When you're ready, come over to the master's, for he's waiting breakfast for you. A beautiful hour for l>reakfast it is. Many's the d;iy his father sinteuced a whole dock full before the same time ! " With the comforting reflection that the world went better in his youth. Corny drained the few remaining drops of the jug, and, muttering tho Avhile something that did not sound exactly like a blessing, waddled out of the room with a gait of the most imposing gravity. I had very little diiHculty in finding my friend's quarters; for, as his door lay open, and as he himself was caroling away, at the very top of his lungs, some popular melody of the day, I speedily fcuind myself beyond the threshold. 'Ah! Ilinton, my hearty, how goes it; your head-piece nothing the worse, I hope, for either the car or the claret? By- the-bye, capital claret that is; you've nothing like it in England." I could scarce lu^lp a smile at the remark, as he proceeded — "But come, my boy, sit down; help yourself to a cutlet, and make yourself quite at home in Mount O'Grady." "Mount O'Crady!" repeated I. "Ha! in allusion, I supjiose, to these confounded two flights one has to climb up to yo"-" " Nothing of the kind; the name has a very different origin. Tea or coffee .^ there's the congou. Now, my boy, the fact is, we O'Gradys were once upon a time very great folk in our way ; lived in an uncouth old barrack, with battlements and a keep, upon the Shannon, where we ravaged the coxmtry for miles round, and did as much mischief, and committed as much pillage upon the peaceable inhabitants, as any respectable old family in the province. Time, however, wagged on ; luck changed ; your countrymen came pouring in upon us with new- fangled notions of reading, writing, and road-making; ]M)lice and petty sessions, and a thousand other vexatious contrivances followed, to worry and puzzle the heads of simple country gentlemen ; so that, at last, instead of taking to the hill-side for our mutton, we were reduced to keep a market-cart; and employ a thieving rogue in Dublin to supply lis with poor 24 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. claret, instead of making' a trip over to Galway, where a smuggling craft brought us our lush, with a bouquet fresh from Bordeaux. But the worst wasn't come ; for you see, a litigious spirit grew up in the country, and a kind of vindictive habit of pursuing you for your debts. Now, we always contrived, some- how or other, to have ratlier a confused way of mauaging our exchequer. No tenant on the property ever precisely knew what he owed ; and, as we possessed no record of what he paid, our income was rather obtained after the manner of levying a tribute, than receiving a legal debt. Meanwhile, we pushed our credit like a new colony : whenever a loan was to be obtained, it was little we cared for ten, twelve, or even fifteen per cent. ; and, as we kept a jolly house, a good cook, good claret, and had the best pack of beagles in the country, he'd have been a hardy creditor who'd have ventured to push us to extremities. Even sheep, however, they say, get courage when they flock together, and so this contemptible herd of tailors, tithe- proctors, butchers, 1)arristers, and bootmakers, took heart of grace, and laid siege to us in all ibrm. My grandfather, Phil, — for I was called after him, — who always spent his money like a gentleman, had no notion of figuring in the Four Courts, but he sent Tom Darcy, his cousin, up to town, to call out as many of the plaintiifs as would fight, and to threaten the remainder that, if they did not withdraw their suits, they'd have more need of the surgeon than the attorney-general; for they shouldn't have a whole bone in their body by Michaelmas-day. Another cutlet, Hinton ; but I am tiring you with all these family matters." " Not at all ; go on, I beg of j'ou. I want to hear how your grandfather got out of his difficulties." " Faith, I wish you could ; it would be equally pleasant news to myself; but, unfortunately, his beautiful plan only made bad worse, for they began fresh actions. Some, for provocation to fight a duel; others, for threats of assault and battery ; and the short of it was, as my grandfather wouldn't enter a defence, ihey obtained their verdicts, and got judgment, with all thecosts." '• The devil ! they did ; that must have pushed him hard." " So it did; indeed it got the better of his temper, and he that was one of the heartiest, pleasantest fellows in tlu; province, became, in a manner, morose and silent; and, instead of surrendering possession, peaceably and quietly, he went down to the gate, and took a sitting shot at the sub sheriif, who was there in a tax-cart " " Bless my soul ! Did he kill him ? " "No; he only rufih'd his feathers, and broke his thiiih ; but it was bad enough, for he had to go over to Franco till it blew over. Well, it was either vexation or the climate, or, maybe, the weak wines, or, perhaps, all three, undermined his JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 25 constitntion, but he died at eightj'-fuur, — the only one of the family rvcr cut off early, except such as were shot, or the like." " Well, but your I'utlier " " I am coming to him. My grandfather sent for him from school when he was dying, and he made him swear he would be a lawyer. ' Morris will be a thorn in their Hesh, yet,' said he ; ' and look to it, luy boy,' he cried, * I leaye you a Chancery suit that has nearly broke eight families and the hearts of two chancellors ; — see that you keej) it going — sell every stick on the estate — put all the beggars in the barony on the property, — beg, borrow, and steal them; — jilougli up all the grazing-land; and I'll tell you a better trick than all ' Here a fit of coughing interrupted the pious old gentleman, :ind when it was over, so was he ! " " Dead ? " said I. "As a door-nail ! — Wi 11, my father was dutiful; he kept the suit moving till he got called to the Bar ! Once there, he have it all his spare moments; and when there was iiotliing going in the Common Picas or King's Bench he was sure to come down with a new bill, or a declaration, before the Master, or a writ of error, or a point of law for a jury, till at last, .V hen no case was ready to come on, the sitting judge would c ill out, — let us hear O'Grad}', — in appeal, or in error, or whatever it was. But, to make my story short, my father became a first-rate lawyer, by the practice of his own suit, — rose to a silk-gown, — was made solicitor and attorney-general, — afterwards, chief justice " . "And the suit——" "Oh ! the suit survived him, and became my jtroperty ; but, somehow, I didn't succeed in the management quite as well a.s my father; and I found that my estate cost me somewhere about fifteen hundred a year — not to mention more oaths than fifty ja'ars of purgatory could pay ofi'. This was a high premium to pay for figuring every term on the list of trials, ^o I raised a thousand pounds on my commission, gave it to Nick M'Namara, to take the property off my hands, and, as my father's last injunction was, never rest till you sleep in JNIount O'Grady, — why I just baptized my present abode by thai name, and here I live with the easy conscience of a dutiful and affectionate child that took the shortest and speediest way of fullilling his father's testament." "By Jove! a most singular narrative. I shouldn't like to have parted with the old place, however." "Faith, I don't know; I never was much there. It was a rackety, tumble-down old concern, with rattling windows, rooks, and rats, pretty much like this ; and, what between my duns and Corny Delany, I very often think I am back there again. There wasn't as good a room as tliis in the whole house 26 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. not to speak of the i:)ictures. Isn't that likeness of Darcy capital ? You saw him last night. He sat next Curran. Come, I've no Curacoa to offer you, but try this Usquebaugh." " By-the-by, that Corny is a strange character. I rather think, if I were you, I should have let him go with the pro- perty." " Let him go ! 'Egad, that's not so easy as you think. Nothing but death will ever part us." " I really cannot comprehend how you endure him ; he'd drive me mad." " Well, he very often pushes me a little hard or so ; and, if it wasn't that, by deei> study and minute attention, I have at length got some insight into the weak parts of his nature, I frankly confess I couldn't endure i,t much longer." " And, pray, what may these amiable traits be "i " " You will scai'cely guess." "Love of monev, perhaps?" "No." " Attachment to your family, then ? " " Not that either." " I give it up." " Well, the truth is, Corny is a most pious Catholic. The church has unbounded influence and control over all his actions. Secondly, he is a devout believer in ghosts, particularly my grandfather's, which, Imust confess, I have personated two or three times myself, when his temper had nearly tortured me into a brain fever ; so that between purgatory and apparitions, fears here and hereafter, I keep him pretty bus3\ There's a friend of mine, a priest, one Father Tom Loftus ■" " I've heard that name before somewhere." " Scarcely, I think ; I'm not aware that he was ever in England: but he's a glorious fellow; I'll make you known to him one of these days; and, when you have seen a little more of Ireland, I am certain you'll like him. But I'm forgetting; it must be late ; we have a field-day, you know, in the park." " What am I to do for a mount ? I've brought no horses with me." " Oh, I've arranged all that. See, there are the nags already: that dark chestnut I destine for you; and, come along, we have no time to lose. There go the carriages, and here comes our worthy confrere and fellow aide-de-camp ; do you know him .^ " " Who is it, 'pray ? " "Lord Dudley JDe Vcrc, the most confounded puppy, and the emptiest ass But here he is." '' De Vere, my friend, Mr. Hinton. One of ours." His lordship raised his delicat(>-looking eyebrows, as high as he was able, letting fall his gl.iss at the same moment froia the JACK H IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN 27 corner of his eye; and, while he adjusted his stoch at the glass, hsped out — " Ah — yes — very happy. In the Guards, I think. Know Dou,f,4as, don't you ? " " Yes, very slilace the duchess designed J'ur her friend. The only thing to do, therefore, was, to i)lace them as conveniently as I could, and hasten back to inform her grace of the success of my mission. As I approached her carriage I was saluted by a burst of laugliter from the staff, in which the duke himself joined most extravagantly; while O'lJrady, with his hands on his sides, threatened to fall from the saddle. "What the deuce is the matter?" thought I; "I didn't bungle it?" "Tell her grace," said the duke, with his hand upon his mouth, unable to finish the sentence with laughter. I saw something was wrong, and that I was in some infernal Fcrape : still, resolved to go through with it, 1 drew near, and said — "I am happy to inform your grace, that " " Lady Kil is here," said the duchess, bowing haughtily, as she turned towards a spiteful-looking dowager, beside her. Here was a mess ! So bowing and backing, I dropped through the crowd to where my companions still stood convulsed with merriment. " Wliat, in the devil's name, is it?" said I to O'Grady. " Whom have I been escorting this half hour? " " You've immortalized yourself," said O'Grady, with a roar of laughter. " Your bill at twelve months for five hundred pounds is as good this moment as bank ])aper." '• What is it? " said I, losing all patience. " Who is she ? " " Mrs. Paul "Rooney, my boy. the gem of attorneys' wives, the glory of Stephen's-green. with a villa at Bray, a box at the theatre, champagne suppers every night in the week, diuuera promiscuously, and lunch a discretioi : there's glory for you. You may laugh at a latitat, sneer at the King's Bench, and sna]i vour lingers at any process-server from hero to Kilniain" ham!" * 34 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " May the devil fly away with her ! " said I, wiping my forehead with passion and excitement. "The heavens forbid!" said O'Grady, piously. "Our exchequer may he guilty of many an extravagance, but it could not permit such a flight as that. It is evident, Hinton, that you did not see the pretty girl beside her in the carriage." " Yes, yes, I saw her," said I, biting my lip with impatience, "and she seemed evidently enjoying the infernal blunder I was committing. And Mrs. Paul — oh, confound her ! I can never eitdure the sight of her again ! " " My dear young friend," replied O'Grady, with an affected seriousness, " I see that already the prejudices of your very silly counti-ymen have worked their efl'ect upon you. Had not Lord Dudley de Vere given you such a j^icture of the Rooney family, you would probably be much more lenient in your judgment: besides, after all, the error was yours, not hers. You told her that the duke had sent you ; you told her the duchess wished her carriage beside her own." " You take a singular mode," said I, piittishly, " to bring a man back to a good temper, by showing him that he has no one to blame for his misfortunes but himself. Confound them : look how they are all laughing about us. Indeed, from the little I've seen, it is the only thing they appear to do in this country." At a signal from the duke O'Grady put spurs to his hox'se and cantered down the line, leaving me to such reflections as I could form, beneath the gaze of gome forty persons, who could not turn to look, without laughing at me. This is pleasant, thought I, this is really a happy dchiU : that I, whose unimpeachable accuracy of manner and address should have won for me, at the prince's levee, the approbation of the first gentleman of Europe, should here, among these semi- civilized savages, become an object of ridicule and laughter. My father told me they were very different; and my mother — I had not patience to think of the frightful eff"ects my absurd situation might produce; uj)on her nerves. Lady Julia, too — ah ! there's the rub — my beautiful cousin; who, in the slightest solecism of Loudon manners, coidd find matter for sarcasm and raillery. What would she think of me now? and this it is they jjersuaded me to prefer to active service. What wound to a man's flesh could equal one to his feelings.'' I would rather be condoled with than scofi"ed at, any day ; and see ! by Jove, they're laughing still. I would wager a fifty that I furnish the dinner conversation for every table in the capital this day. The vine twig shows not more ingenuity, as it traverses some rocky crag in search of the cool stream, at once its luxury and its life, than does our injured self-love, in seeking for consolation from the inevitable casualties of fate, and the irresistible strokes of fertaae ! Thus I found comfort in the thought that the JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 35 ridicule attached to mc rather proceeded from the low standard of manners and habits about me than from anything positively absurd in my position ; and, in my warped and biassed imaifination, I actually preferred the insolent insipidity of Lord Dudley do Vere to the hearty raciness and laughter- loving spirit of Phil U'Grady. jNly reflections were now cut short by the order for the staff to mount, and, fdUowing the current of my present feelings, I drew near to Lord Dudley, in whose emptiness and inanity I felt a degree of security from sarcasm that I could by no means be so confident of in O'Grady's company. Amid the thunder of cannon, the deafening roll of drums, the tramp of cavalry, and the measured foot-lall of the infantry coKuuns, these thoughts rapidly gave way to others, and I soon forgot myself in the scene around me. The sight, indeed, vi-as an inspiriting one; for, although Init the mockery of glorious war, to my unpractised eye the deception was delighttul: the bracing air, the bright sky, the scenery itself, lent their aid, and, in the briUiant panorama before me, I soon regained my light- heartedness, and I'elt hajjpy as before. CHAPTER VI. TQE SHA3I BATTLE, I HAVE mentioned in my last chapter how very rapidly I forgot my troubles in the excitement of the scene around me. Indeed, they must have been much more important, much deeper woes. to have occupied any place in a head so addled and coufui;ed as mine was. The manoeuvres of the day included a sham battle ; and scarcely had his excellency passed down the line, when preiiarations for the engagement began. The heavy artillery was seen to limber up, and move slowly across the field, accompanied by a strong detachment of cavalry; columns of infantry were marched hither and thither with the most pressing and eager haste ; orderly dragoons and staff-officers galloped to and fro like madmen; red-faced plethoric little colonels bawled out the word of command, till one feared they might burst a blood-vessel ; and already two companies of light infantry might be seen stealing cautiously along the skirts of the wood, with the apparently insidious design of attacking a brigade of guns. As for me, I was at one moment employed carrying despatches to Sir Charles Asgill, at another conveying intelligence to Lord Harrington ; these, be it known, being the 36 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. rival commanders, whose powers of strategy were now to be tested before the assembled and discriminating citizens of Dublin. Not to speak of tlie eminent personal hazard of a service which required me constantly to ride between the lines of contending armies, the fatigue alone had nigh killed me. Scarcely did I appear breathless at head-quarters on my return from one mission when I was despatched on another. Tired and panting, I more than once bungled my directions, and com- municated to Sir Charles the secret intentions of his lordship, while with a laudable impartiality I disarranged the former's plans by a total misconception of the orders. Fatigue, noise, chagrin, and incessant worry, had so completely turned my ; head, that I became perfectly incapable of the commonest exercises of reason. Part of the artillery I ordered into a hollow, where I was told to station a party of riflemen Three squadrons of cavalry I desired to charge up a hill, which the seventy-first Highlanders were to have scrambled uj) if they were able. Light dragoons I posted in situations so beset with brushwood and firs that all movement became impossible ; and, in a word, when the signal-gun announced the commencement of the action, my mistakes had introduced such a new feature into tactics, that neither party knew what his adversary was at, nor indeed had any accurate notion of which were his own troops. The duke, who had watched with the most eager satisfaction the whole of my proceedings, sat laughing upon his horse till the very tears coursed down his cheeks ; and as all the staff were more or less participators in the secret, I found myself once more the centre of a grinning audience, perfectly convulsed at my exploits. Meanwhile, the guns thundered, the cavalry charged, the infantr}^ iioured in a rattling roar of small arms ; while the luckless com niandm-s, unable to discover any semblance of a plan, and, still worse, not knowing where one-half their forces were concealed, dared not adventure upon a movement, and preferred trusting to the smoke of the battle as a cover for their blunders. The fnsilade, therefore, was hotly sustained ; all th heavy pieces brought to the front; and while the spectators were anxiously looking for the mancRUvres of a fight, the amiuuuition was waxing low, and the (lay wearing apace. Dissatisfaction at length began to show itself on every side; and the duke assuming, as well as he was able, somewhat of a disappointed look, the unhappy generals made a final effort to retrieve their mishaps, and aides-de-camp were despatched through all the highways and byways to bring up whoever they could find as quickly as possible. Now then began such a scene as few even of the oldest campaigners ever witnessed the equal of From every dell and hollow, from every brake and thicket, burst forth some party or other, who up to this moment believed themselves lying in ambush. Horse, foot,anel JACK HIATON, THE GUARDSMAN. 37 drapoons, arlillerj', tappers, light infantry, and grenadiers.rushed forward wherever chance or their bewildereii officers led them. Here might Ijc seen one-halt' of a regiment Mazing away at a stray company of their own people, running like devils for shelter; here some squadrons of horse, who, indignant at their fruitless charges and unmeaning m«yements, now doggedly dismounted, were standing right before a brigade of twelve-pounders, thundering mercilessly amongst them. Never was witnessed such a scene of riot, confusion, and disorder. Colonels lost their regiments, regiments their colonels. The fusiliers captured the band of the Koyal Irish, and made them play through the heat of the engagement. Those who at lirst expressed ennui and fatigue at the sameness and monotony of the scene, were now gratitied to the utmost by its life, bustle, and animation. Elderly citizens in drab shorts and buff waistcoats explained to their listening wives and urchins the plans and intentions of the rival heroes, pronouncing the whole thing the while the very best field-day that ever was seen in the Phasnix. In the midst of all this confusion a new element of discord Buddenly displayed itself. That loyal corps, the Cork militia, who were ordered up to attack close to where the duke and his staff were standing, deemed that no better moment could be chosen to exhibit their attachment to church and state than when marching on to glory, struck up with all the discord of their band, the redoubted air of " Protestant Boys." The cheer burst from the ranks as the loyal strains tilled the air; but scarcely had the loud burst sub.sideil, when the Louth inililia advanced with a quick step, their fifes playing " Vinegar Hill." For a moment or two the rivalry created a perfect roar of laughter ; but this very soon gave way, as the two regiments, instead of drawing up at a reasonable distance for the inter- change of an amicable blank cartridge, rushed down upon each other with the fury of madmen. So sudden, so impetuous was the encounter, all effort to prevent it was impracticable. Muskets were clubbed or bayonets fixed, and in a moment really serious battle was engaged ; the musicians on each side encouraging their party, as they racked their brains for party tunes of the most bitter and taunting character ; while cries of " Down with King William ! " " To hell with the Pope ! " rose alternately from either side. How far this spirit might have extended it is difficult to say, when the duke gave orders for some squadrons of cavalry to charge down upon them, and separate the contending forcea This order was fortunately in time: for scarcely was it issued, when a west country yeomanry corps came galloping up to the assistance of the brave Louth. " Here wo are, boys ! " cried ]\Iike Westropp, their colonel. ♦• Here v^e are ; lave the way 1 lave the way for us ! and we'll 38 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. ride down the muvthering Orange villains, every man of them!" The Louth fell back, and the yeomen came forward at a charge ; Westropp standing high in his stirrups, and flourish- ing his sabre above his head. It was just then that a heavy brigade of artillery, unconscious of the hot work going forward, was ordered to open their fire upon the Louth militia. One of the guns, by some accident, contained an undue proportion of wadding, and to this casual circumstance may, in a great degree, be attributed the happy issue of what threatened to be a serious disturbance ; for, as Westropp advanced, cheering and en- couraging his men, he received this wadding slap in his face. Down he tumbled at once, rolling over and over with the shock ; while, believing that he had got his death-wound, he bellowed out — " Oh ! blessed Virgin ! there's thrcason in the camp ! hit in the face by a four-jjounder, by Jove. Oh ! duke darling ! Oh ! your grace ! Oh ! holy Joseph, look at this! Oh ! bad luck to the arthillery, for spoiling a fair fight. Peter " — this was the major of the regiment — '' Peter Darcy, gallop into town, and lodge informations against the brigade of guns. I'll be dead before you come back." A perfect burst of laughter broke from the opposing ranks, and while his friends crowded round the discomfited leadei-, the rival bauds united in a roar of merriment that for a moment caused a suspension of hostilities. For a moment, I say ; lor scarcely had the gallant Westropp been conveyed to the rear, when once more the bands struck up their irritating strains, and preparations for a still more deadly encounter were made ou every side. The matter now assumed so serious an aspect that the duke was obliged himself to interfere, and order both parties oif the ground ; the Cork deploying towards the Lodge, while the brave Louth marched otf with banners flying and drums beating in the direction of Knockmaroon. These movements were conducted with a serio-comic solemnity of the most ludicrous kind, and although the respect for viceregal authority was great, and the military devotion of each party strong, yet neither oae nor the other was sufficient to prevent the more violent on both sides from occasionally turning, as tbey went, to give expression to some taunting allusion or some galling sarcasm, well calculated, did the opportunity j^ermit, to renew the conflict. A hearty burst of laughter from the duke indicated pretty clearly how he regarded the matter ; and, however the grave and significant looks of others might seem to imply that there was more in the circumstance than mere food for mirth, he shook his sides merrily ; and, as his bright eye glistened with isatisfactioD, and his cheek glowed, he could not help whispering JACK HJNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 39 his regret that his station conijiclled him to check the very best joke lie over witnessed in his life. " This is hot work, Sir Charles," said he, wiping his forehead as he spoke; "and, as it is now past three o'clock, and we havo a privy council at four, I lear I must leave 3'ou." " The troops will move jjast in marching order," replied Sir Charles pomi^ously : " will your grace receive the salute at this point?" " Wherever you like, Sir Charles ; wherever you like. Would to Heaven that some good Samaritan could afl'ord me a little brandy and water from his canteen. I say, ilinton, they seem at luncheon 3'onder in that carriage : do you think your diplo- macy could negociate a glass of sherry for me ? " " if you'll permit me, my lord, I'll try," said I, as,, disen- gaging myself from the crowd, I set off in the direction he pointed. As I drew near the carriage — from which the horses having been taken, was drawn up beside a clump of beech trees for the sake of shelter — I was not long in perceiving that it was the same equipage I liad so gallantly rescued in the morning from the sabres of the horse-police. Had I entertained any fears for the effects of the nervous shock upon the tender sensibilities of Mrs. Paul Rooney, the scene before me must completely have dis- pelled my uneasiness. Never did a merrier jjeal of laughter ring from female lungs than hers as I rode forward. Seated in the bnck of the carriage, the front cushion of which served as a kind of table, sat the lady in question. One hand, resting upon her knee, held a formidable carving-fork, on the summit of which vibrated the short leg of a chicken ; in the other she grasped a silver vessel, which, were I to predicate from the froth, I fear I should pronounce to be porter. A luncheon on the most liberal scale, displayed, in all the confusion and disorder inseparable from such a situation, a veal pie, cold lamb, tongue, chickens, and sandwiches ; drinking vessels of every shape and material ; a smelling-bottle full of mustard, and a newspaper paragra]ih i'liU of salt. Abundant as were tlie viands, the guests were not wanting: crowds of infantry oihcers, Hushed Avith victory or undismayed by defeat, hobnobbed from the rumble to the box ; the stops, the springs, the very splinterbar had its occupant ; and, truly, a merrier part3% or a more convivial, it were diliicult to .conceive. So environed was Mrs. Rooney by her friends that I was enabled to ob.serve them some time, myself unseen. " Captain Mitchell, another wing ? Well, the least taste in life of the breast ? Bob Dwyer, will ye never have done drawing that cork?" Now this I must aver was an unjust reproach, inasmuch as, to my own certain knowledge, he had accomplished three feata 40 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. of tliat nature in about as many minutes; and, had the afore- said Bob been reared from his infancy in drawing corks, instead of declarations, his practice could not have been more expert. Pop. 2Dop, they went; glng, glug, glug, flowed the bubbling liquor, as sherry, shrub, cold punch, and bottled porter succeeded each other in rapid order. Simpering ensigns, with elevated eyebrows, insinuated nonsense, soft, rapid, and unmeaning as their own brains, as they helped themselves to ham or dived into the pasty ; while a young dragoon, who seemed to devote his attention to Mrs. Rooney's companion, amused himself by constant endeavours to stroke down a growing moustache, whose downy whiteness resembled nothing that I know of, save the ill-omened fur one sees on an antiquated apple-pie. As I looked on every side to catch a glance at him whom I should suppose to be ]\rr. Eooney, I was myself detected by the watchful eye of Bob Dwyer, who, at that moment having his mouth full of three hard eggs, was nearly asphyxiated ia his endeavours to telegraph my approach to Mrs. PauL "The edgeda-cong, by the mortial ! " said he, sputtering out the words, as his bloodshot eyes nearly bolted out of hia head. Had I been a Bengal tiger my advent might have caused less alarm. The officers not knowinij if the duke himself were coming, wiped their lips, resumed then- caps and shakos, and sprang to the ground in dismay and confusion : as Mrs. Rooney herself, with an adroitness an Indian juggler might have envied, plunged the fork, drumstick and all, into the recesses other muif ; while with a back hand she decanted the XX upon a bald major of infantry, who was brushing the crumbs from his facings. One individual alone seemed to relish and enjoy the discomfiture of the others : this was the young lady whom I before remarked, and whose whole air and appearance seemed strangely at variance with everything around her. She gave free current to her mirth ; while Mrs. Paul, now suddenly restored to a sense of her nervous con- stitution, fell back in the carriage, and appeared bent upon a scene. " You caught us enjoying ourselves, Mr. Stilton? " " Hinton. if you'll allow me, madam." "Ay, to be sure — Mr. Hinton. Taking a little snack, which I 11 ni sure you'd be the better of after the fatigues of the day." '■ Eh, au, an ! a devilish good luncheon," chimed in a pale sub, the first who ventured to pluck up his courage. " Would a sandwich tempt you, with a glass of champagne ? " said Mrs. Paul, with the blandest of smiles. " I can recommend the lamb, sir," said a voice behind. "Begad, I'll vouch for the porter,'' said the major. " I only hope it is a good cosmetic," JACK JUNTO X, THE GUARDSMAN. 41 *' It's a beautiful thing for the hair," said Mrs. Rooney, half venturing upon a jolze. •' No inoro on that head, ma'am," said the little major, bowing pompously. By this lime, thanks to the assiduous attentions of BoV Dwyer, I was i)resented witli a plate, which, had I been an anaconda, instead of an aide de-camp, might have satisiiod my appetite. A place wa.s made for rae in the carriage; and tlio taitliful Bob, converting the skirt of his principal blue into a ^liis.s-cloth, ]ioli.shcd a wine-glass for my private use. " Let me introduce my young friend, Mr. Hinton," said Mrs. Paul, with a graceful wave of her jewelled hand towards her conipanioa. " Miss Louisa Bcllew, only ikiughter of Sir Simon Bellew, of " what tin; place w;is I could not well hear, but it sounded confoundedly like Killhimansmotherum, "a beautiful placo in the county Mayo. Jiob, is it punch you are giving?" " ]\[ost excellent, I assure you, ^Mrc. Rooney." " And how IS the duke, sir ? I hope his grace enjoys good health. He is a darling of a man." ]5y-the-byo, it is perfectly absurd the sym])alhy yonr third or fonrtii-rate jieople feel in the health and habits of those above them in station, pleased as ihey are to learn the most common- place aud worthless trilles concerning them, and happy when, by any chance, some accidental similitude would seem to exist even between their misfortunes. " And the dear duchess," resumed Mrs. Rooney, " she's troubled with the nerves like myself. Ah ! Mr. Hinton, what an affliction it is to have a sensitive nature; that's what I often say to my sweet young friend here. It's better for her to be the gay, giddy, thoughtless, happy thing she is than -"' Here the lady sighed, wiped her eyes, flourished her cambric, and tried to look like Agues in the Bleeding iS'un. " Bat here they come. You don't know Mr. Rooney ? Allow me to intro- duce him to you." As she spoke, O'Grady cantered up to the carriage, accom- panied by a short, pursy, rourid-faccd little man, who, with his hat set knowingly on one side, and his top-boots scarce reaching to the middle of the leg, bestrode asharp, strong-boned hackney, with cropped ears and short tail. He carried in his hand a hunting-whip, and seemed, by his seat in the saddle aud the easy {ingor ujwn the bridle, no indifferent horseman. " Mr. Rooney," said the lady, drawing herself up with a certain austerity of manner, '• I wish you to make the acquain- tance of Mr. Hinton, the aide-de-camp to his grace." ]\rr. Rooney lilted his hat straight above his head, and rspliiced it a little more obliquely than before over his right eye. "Dehghted, upon my honour — faith, quite charmed — hope 42 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. yoii got something to eat — there nevei" was sncli a murthering hot day— Bob Dwyer, open a bottle of port — the captain is famished." " I say, Hinton,*' called out O'Grady, " yon forgot the duke, it seems ; he told me you'd gone in search of some sherry, or something of the kind ; but I can readily conceive how easily a man may forget himself in such a position as yours." Here Mrs. Paul dropped her head in deep confusion, Miss Bellew looked saucy, and I, for the first time remembering what brought me there, was perfectly overwhelmed with shame at my carelessness. " Never mind, boy ; don't fret about it ; his grace is the most forgiving man in the world ; and when he knows where you were " " Ah ! captain," sighed Mrs. Eooney. " Master Phil, it's yourself can do it,'' murmured Paul, who perfectly appreciated O'Grady's powers of blarney, when exercised on the susceptible temperament of his fair spouse. "I'll take a sandwich," continued the captain. "Do you know, Mrs. Eooney, I've been riding about this half-hour to catch my young friend, and introduce him to you ; and here I find him comfortably installed without my aid or assistance. The fact is, these English fellows have a flattering, insinuating way of their own, there's no coming up to. Isn't that so. Miss Bellew?" _ " Very likely," said the young lady, Avho now spoke for the first time ; " but it is so very well concealed, that I for one could never detect it." This speech, uttered with a certain pert and saucy air, nettled me for the moment ; but, as no reply occurred to me, I could only look at the speaker a tacit acknowledgment of her sarcasm ; while I remembered, for the first time, that, although seated opposite my very attractive neighbour, I had hitherto not addressed to her a single jjhrase of even commonplace attention. " I suppose you put up in the Oastle, sir? " said Mr. Eooney. '• Yes ; two doors lower down than Mount O'Grady," replied the captain for me. " But come, Hinton, the carriages arc moving; we must get back as quick as we can. Good bye, Paul. Adieu ! Mrs. Eooney. Miss Bellew, good morning." It was just at the moment when I had summoned up my courage to address Miss Bellew that O'Grady called mc away : there was nothing for it, however, but to make my adieus while extricating myself from the debris of the luncheon. I once more mounted my horse, and joined the viceregal party as they drove from the ground. " Pm delighted you know the Eooneys," said O'Grady, aa we yACK UINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 43 drove alotifr : " they are by far the best fuu going, Paul good, but his witc superb." "Aud the younc,' mdy?" said 1. " Oil, a difloront kind of thincf altogether, lly-the-bye, TTinton, you took uiy hint, I hope, about your English manner." "Eh? why? how? what did you mean?" " Siinpl}', my boy, that your Cop[)ermincrivcr kind of courtesy may be a devilish tine thing in Hyde Park or St. James's, but will never do with us poor people here. Put more warmth into it, man. Dash the lemonade with a little maras- chino; 3'ou'll feel twice as comfortable yourself, and the girls like you all the better. You take the suggestion in good part, I'm sure." " Oh, of course," said I, somewhat stung that I should get a lesson in manner, where I had meant to be a model for imitation, "if they like that kind of thing, I must only conform." CHAPTER VII. THE KOONEYS. I CANNOT proceed further in this my veracious history without dwelling a little longer upon the characters of the two interest- ing individuals I have already presented to my readers as Mr. and Mrs. Rooncy. Paul Rooney, attorney-at-law, 42, Stephen's Green, north, was about as well-known in his nativecity of Dublin as Nelson's Pillar. His reputation, iiulimited by the adventitious circum- stances of class, spread over the whole surface of society ; and from the chancellor down to the carman, his claims were confessed. It is possiljle that in many other cities of the world Mr. Rooney might have been regarded as a commonplace, every- day personage, wcll-t®-do in the world, and of a fair-and-easy character, which, if it left little for rejiroach, left still less for remark; but, in Ireland, whether it was the climate or the people, the potteen or the potatoes, I cannot say, but certainly he came out, as the painters call it, in a breadth of colour quite surpi'ising. The changeful character of the skies has, they tell us, a remarkable influence in fashioning the ever-varying features of Irish temperament; and, certainly, the inconstant climate of Dublin had much merit if it produced in Mr. Rooney the versa- tile nature he rejoiced in. 44 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN, About ten o'clock, on every morning during term, might be seen a shrewd, cunning-looking, sly little fellow, who, with pursed up lips and slightly elevated nose, wended his way towards the Four Courts, followed by a ragged urchin with a well- tilled bag of purple stuff. His black coat, drab shorts, and gaiters, had a plain and business-like cut; and the short square tie of his white cravat had a quaint resemblance to a flourisli on a deed; the self- satis tied look, the assured step, the easy roll of the head — all bespoke one with whom the world was thriving; And it did not need the additional evidence of a certain habit lie had of jingling his silver in his breeches-pocket as he weut, to assure you that Rooney was a warm fellow, and had no want of money. Were you to trace his steps for the three or four hours that ensued, yoii would see him bustling through the crowded hall of the Four Courts — now whispering some important point to a leading banister, while he held another by the gown lest he should escape him : now he might be remarked seated in a niche between the pillars, explaining some knotty ditEculty to a western client, whose flushed cheek and flashing eye too plainly indicated his impatience of legal strategy, and how much more pleased he would feel to redress his wrongs in his own fashion : now brow-beating, now cajoling, now encouraging, now condoling, he edged his way through the be-wigged and dusty throng, not stopping to reply to the hundred salutations he met with save by a knowing wink, which was the only civility he did not put down at three-and fourpence. If his knowledge of law was little, his knowledge of human nature — at least of such of it as Ireland exhibits — was great ; and no case of any import- ance could come before a jury where Paul's advice and opinion were not deemed of considerable importance. No man better knew all the wiles and twists, all the dark nooks and recesses of Irish character. No man more quickly could ferret out a hoarded secret; no one so soon detect an attempted imposition. His was the secret police of law : he read a witness as he would a deed, and detected a flaw in him to the full as easily. As he sat near the leading counsel in a cause, he seemed a kind of middle term between the lawyer and the jury. Marking by some slight but significant gesture every point of the former, to the latter, he impressed upon their minds every favourable feature of his client's cause ; and twelve deaf men miglit have followed the pleadings in a case through the agency of Paul's gesticulations. The consequence of these varied gifts was, business flowed in upon him from every side, and few members of the bar were in the receipt of one-half his income. Scarcely, however, did the courts rise, when Paul, shaking from his shoulders the learned dust of the Exchequer, would dive into a small apartment, which, 'in an obscure house in yACk H IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. 45 Mass Lane, he dignified by the name of his study. Short and lev/ as were his moments of seciusiou, they sutlicud to ell'ect in hia entire man a complete and total change. The shrewd little attorney, that went in with a tdsi \)r'nis grin, came out a round pleasant-looking fellow, with a green coat of jockey cut, a Luff waistcoat, white cords, and tops, his hat set jauntily on one side, his spotted neckcloth knotted in bang-up mode : in fact, his figure the iettit uZc'ai of a west-country scjuirc taking a canter among his covers before the opening of the hunting. His grey eyes, expanded to twice their i'ormer size, looked the very soul of merriment; his nether lip, slightly dropped, quivered with the last joke it uttered. Even his voice partook of the change, and was now a rich, full, mellow Clare accent, whicli, with the recitative of his country, seemed to Itahanize his Euglisli. While such was Paul, his accessoires — as the French would call them — were in admirable keeping : a dark chestnut cob, a lU'ri'ect model of strength and symnietrj^ would be led up and down by a groom, also mounted upon a strong haclvncy, whose Hat rib and short pastern showed his old Irish breeding; the well-iitting saddle, the well-balanced stirrup, the l)laiu but powerful snaffle, all looked like the appendages of one whose jockej'ism was no assumed feature; and, indeed, you had only to see Mr. Rooney in his seat to confess that he was to the full as much at home there as in the court of Chancery. From this to the hour of a late dinner the Phcenix Park became his resort. There, surrounded by a gay and laughing crowd. Paul cantered along, amusing his hearers with the last mot from the King's Bench, or some stray bit of humour or fun I'rom a case on circuit. His conversation, however, prin- cipally ran on other topics, — the Curragh meeting, the Lougrea stecjile cliaso, the Meath cup, or Lord ]3oyne's handicap; with these he was thoroughly familiar : he knew the odds of every race, could apportion the weights, describe the ground, and better than all, make rather a good guess at tlie winner. In addition to these gifts, he was the best judge of a horse in Ireland ; always well-mounted, and never without at least two hackneys in his stable, able to trot their litteen Irish miles within the hour. Such qualities as these might be supposed popular ones in a country proverbially given to sporting: but Mr. Rooney had other and very supjerior powers of attraction ; he was the Amphitryon of Dublin. It was no figurative expression to say that he kept open house. Dejeuners, dinners, routs, and balls, followed each other in endless succession. His cook was French, his claret was Sneyd's: he imported his own sherry and Madeira, both of which he nursed with a care and affection truly parental. His venison and biack-cock came from Scotland ; every Holyhead packet had its consignment of Welsh mutton ; and, in a word, whatever F 46 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. ■wealth could purchase, and a taste, nurtured as his had been by the counsel of many who frequented his table, could procure, such he possessed in abundance ; his greatest ambition being to outshine in splendour, and surpass in magnificence, all the other dinner-givers of the day ; tilling his house with the great and titled of the land, who ministered to his vanity with singular good-nature, while they sipped his claret and sat over his Burgundy. His was indeed a pleasant house : the housvivants liked it for its excellent cuisine, the perfection of its wines, the certainty of finding the first rarity of the season before its existence was heard of at other tables ; the lounger liked it for its ease and informality; the humourist, for the amusing features of its host and hostess ; and not a few were attracted by the graceful- ness and surpassing lovhness of one who, by some _ strange fatality of fortune, seemed to have been dropped down into the midst of this singular 'menage. Of Mr. Roouey I have only farther to say that, hospitable as a prince, he was never so- happy as at the head of his table; ior, although his natural sharpness could not but convince him of the footing which he occupied among his high and dis- tinguished guests, yet he knew well there are few such levellers of rank as riches, and he had read in his youth that even the lofty Jove himself was accessible by the odour of a hetacomb. Mrs. Rooney — or, as she wrote herself upon her_ card, Mrs. Paul Eooney (there seemed something distinctive in the prenom.)— was a being of a very different order: perfectly nnconscious of the ridicule that attaches to vulgar profusion, she believed herself the great source of attraction of her crowded staircase and besieged drawing-room. True it was, she was a large and very handsome woman : her deep, dark, brown eyes, and brilliant complexion, would have been beautiful, had not her mouth somewhat marred their effect, by that coarse expres- sion which high living and a voluptuous life is sure to impress iipon those not born to be great. There is no doubt of it, the mouth is your thoroughbred feature. You will meet eyes as , softly beaming, as brightly speaking, among the lofty cliffs of the wild Tyrol, or in the deep valleys of the far west : I have seen, too, a brow as fairly pencilled, a nose no Grecian statue could surpass, a skin whose tint was fair and transparent as the downy rose-leaf, amid the humble peasants of a poor and barren land; but never have I seen the mouth, whose clean-cut lip and chiselled arch betokened birth. No; that feature would seem the prerogative of the highly born; fashioned to the expression of high and holy thoughts ; moulded to the utterance of ennobling sentiment, or proud desire. Its every lineament tell'! of birth and blood. i-^ow Mrs. Rooney's mouth was a large and handsome one, yACK IIIKTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 47 her tcclli white and reguhir withal, and when at rest there was nothing' to find fault with ; but let her sjx'ak — was it her accent i' — was it the awi'ul provincialism of her native city 't- — was it that strange habit of contortion any patois is sure to inijirc'ss npon the speaker ? I cimuot Icll ; Ijnt certainly it li'nt to iVutures of very considerable attraction a vulgarizing cliaracter of expression. It was truly ]n-ovolcing to see so handsome a person mat every eflect of lier beauty by some extravagant display. ])ramatizing every trivial incident in life, she rolled her eyes, looked horror-struck or hapi)y, sweet or sarcastic, lofty or languishing, all in one minute. There was an eternal play of feature of one kind or other; there was no rest, no repose. Her arms, and they were round, and fair, and well-fashioned, were also enlisted in the service ; and, to a distant observer, j\Lrs. Kooney's animated conversation appeared like a priest pirforming mass. Ai:d that beautiful head, whose fair and classic proportions were balanced so equally \ipon her white and swelling throat, how tantalizing to know it full of low and petty ambitions, of vulgar tastes, of contemptible rivalries, of insignificant triumph. To see her, amid the voluptuous splendour and profusion of lier gorgeous house, resplendent with jewellery, glistening in all the blaze of emeralds and rubies ; to watch how the poisonous venom of innate vulgarity had so tainted that fair and beautiful form, rendering her an object of ridicule who should have been a thing to worship : it was too bad ; and, as she sat :it dinner, her plump but taper lingers grasping a chamjiagne glass, she seemed like a M;i(innna enacting the part of ]\Icll Flagon. Now, j\Irg. I'aul's manner had as many discrejancios as her features. She was by nature a good, kind, merr^', coarse jiersonage, who loved a joke not the less if it were broad as well as long. Wealth, however, and its attendant evils, suggested the propriety of a very different line ; and catching up, as she did at every opportunity, that presented itself, such of the airs and graces as she believed to be the distinctive traits of high life, she figured about in these cast-ofi" attractions, like a waiting-maid in the abandoned finery of her mistress. As she progressed in fortune, she " tried back " for a family, and discovered that she was an O'Toole by birth, and conse- quently of Irish blood-royal; a certain O'Toole being king 0^" a nameless tract, in an iinknown year, somewhere about the time of Cromwell, who, Mrs. Eooney had heard, came over with Ihe Ilomans. " Ah, yes, my dear," as she would say, when, softened by sherry and_ sorrow, she would lay her hand upon your arm, " Ah, yes, if every one had their own, it isn't married to an attorney I'd be, but living in regal splendour in the halls of my 48 yACIv HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. ancestors. Well, well ! " Here she woulJ throw up her eyes with a mixed expression of grief and coiitidence iu heaven, that if she hadn't got her own in this world. OHver Cromwell, at least, was paying off in the other his foul wrongs to the royal house of O'Toole. I have only one person more to speak of, ere I conclude my rather prolix account of the family. Miss Louisa Bellew was the daughter of an Irish baronet, who put the key-stone upon his ruin by his honest opposition to the passing of the Unio'i. His large estates, loaded with debt and encumbered Ly mortgage, had been for half a century a kind of battle-tield for legal warfare at every assizes. Through the medium of his difficulties he became acquainted with Mr. Eooney, whose craft and subtlety had rescued him from more than one difficulty, and whose good-natured assistance had done still more im^wr- tant service by loans upon his property. At Mr. Eooney 's suggestion, Miss Bellew was invited to pass her winter with them in Dublin. This proposition, which, in the palmier days of the baronet's fortune, would in all proba- bility never have been made, and would certainly never have been accepted, was now entertained with some consideration, and finally acceded to, on prudential motives. Eooney had lent him large sums : he had never been a pressing, on the contrary, he was a lenient creditor: possessing great power over the property, he had used it sparingly, even delicately, and showed himself upon more than one occasion not only a shrewd adviser, but a warm friend. 'Tis true, thought Sir Simon, they are vulgar people, of coarse tastes and low habits, and those with whom they associate laugh at. though they live upon them; yet, after all, to refuse this invitation may be taken in ill part; a few months will do the whole thing. Loui.sa. although young, has tact and cleverness enough to see the difficulties of her position ; besides, poor child, the gaiety and life of a city will be a relief to her, after the dreary and monotonous existence she has passed with me. This latter reason he ]jlausibly represented to himself as a strong one for complying with what his altered fortunes and ruined prospects seemed to render no longer a matter of choice. To the Eooneys, indeed, Miss Bellew's visit was a matter of some consequence : it was like the recognition of some petty state by one of the great powers of Europe. It was an acknow- ledgment of a social existence, an evidence to the world not only that there was such a thing as the kingdom of Eooney, but also that it was worth while to enter into negociation with it, and even accredit an ambassador to its court. Little did that fair and lovely girl think, as with tearful eyes ehe turned again and again to embrace her father, as the hour arrived, when for the first time in her life she was to leave her JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 49 home, little tliJ she dream of the circumstances under which her visit was to be paid. Less a guest than a hostage, she vvas about to quit the home of her infancy, where, notwithstanding the inroads of poverty, a certain air of its once greatness still lingered; the broad and swelling lands, that stretched away witli wood and copjjice, far as the eye could reach— the woodland walks— the ancient house itself, with its discordant pile, accumulated at different times by different masters — all told of power and supremacy in the land of her fathers : the lonely Bolitude of those walls, peopled alone by the grim- visaged portraits of long-buried ancestors, were now to be exchanged for the noise and bustle, the glitter and the glare of second-rate city life: profusion and extravagance, where she had seen but thrift and forbearance; the gossip, the scandal, the tittle-tattle of society, with its envies, its jealousies, its petty rivalries, and its rancours, were to supply those quiet evenings beside the winter hearth, when reading aloud some old and valued volume she learned to prize the treasures of our earlier writers under the guiding taste of one whose scholarship was of no mean order, and whose cultivated mind was imbued with all the tenderness and simplicity of a refined and gentle nature. When fortune smiled, when youth and wealth, an ancient name and a high position, all concurred to elevate him, Sir Simon Bellew was courteous almost to humility ; but wlien the cloud of misfortune lowered over his house, when difficulties thickened around him, and every effort to rescue seemed only to plunge him deeper, then the deep-rooted pride of the man shone forth; and he, who in happier days was forgivino- even to a fault, became now scrupulous about every petty obser- vance, exacting testimonies of respect from ail around him, and assuming an almost tyranny" of manner totally foreign to his tastes, his feelings, and his nature; like some mighty oak of the forest, riven and scathed by lightning, itsbranches leafless and its roots laid bare, still standing erect, it stretches its sapless limbs proudly towards heaven ; so stood he, rett of nearly all, yet still presenting to the adverse wind of fortune his bold unshaken front. Alas and alas ! poverty has no heavier evil in its train than ifs])Ower of perverting the fairest gifts of our nature from their true channel, making the bright sides of our character d;irk, gloomy, and repulsive. Thus the high-souled pride that in our better days sustains and keeps us far above the reach of sordid thoughts and unworthy actions, becomes, in the darker hour of our destiny, a misanthropic selfishness in which we wrap our- selves as in a mantle. The caresses of friendship, the warm affections of domestic love, cannot penetrate through this; even sympathy becomes suspect, and then commences that terriblo 50 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. struggle against the world wliose only termination is a broken heart. Notwithstanding, then, all Mr. Rooney's address in conveying the invitation in question, it was not without a severe struggle that Sir Simon resolved on its acceptance; and when at last he did accede it was with so many stipulations, so many express conditions, that, had they been complied with do f.ido, as they were acknowledged by promise, Miss Bellew would, in all proba- bility, have spent her winter in the retirement of her own chamber in Stephen's-green, without seeing more of the capital and its inhabitants than a view from her window presented. Paul, it is true, agreed to everything; for, although, to use his own language, the codicil revoked the entire body of the testament, he determined in his own mind to break the will. Once in Dublin, thought he, the fascinations of society, the pleasures of the world, with such a guide as Mrs. Rooney (and here let me mention, that for his wife's tact and savoirfaire Paul had the most heartfelt admiration); with advantages like these, she will soon forget the hum-drum life of Kilmorran Castle, and become reconciled to a splendour and magnihcence unsurpassed by even the viceregal coiu't. Here, then, let me conclude this account of the Rooneys, while I resume the thread of my own narrative. Although I feel for, and am ashamed of the prolixity in which I have indulged, yet, as I speak of real people, well known at the period of which I write, and, as they iiia3% to a certain extent, convey an impression of the tone of one class in the society of that day, I could not bring myself to omit their mention, nor even dismiss them more briefly. CHAPTER YIII. THE VISIT. I HAVE already recorded the first twenty-four hours of my life in Ireland; and, if there was enough in them to satisfy me that the country was unlike in many respects that which I had left, there was also some show of reason to convince me that, if I did not conform to the habits and tastes of those around me, I should incur a far greater chance of being laughed at by them than be myself amused by their eccentricities. The most re- TOfirkable feature that struck me was the easy, even cordial, manner witli which acquaintance was made. Every one met you as if he had in some measure been prepared for the intro- JACK IIINTON, THE GU/[RDS^TA^\ 51 duction ; a t()no of intimacy sprang up at once; your tastes wen; iiinlirid, your wishes guessed at witli an unalj'ected kindness tliat made you forget the suddenness of the intimacy : 80 that, when at last you parted with your dear friend of some half-an hour's acquaintance, you could not help wondering at the conlidences you had made, the avowals you had H[)olven, and the lengths to which you had gone in close alliance witii one you had never seen before, and might possibly never meet again. Strange enough as this was with men, it was still more singular when it extended to the gentler sex. Accustomed as I had been all my life to the rigid observances of etiquette in female society, nothing surj)rised me so much as the rapid steps by w-hich Irish ladies passed from acquaintance to intimacy, from intimacy to friendsliip. 'J'lie unsuspecting kindliness of woman's nature has certainly no more genial soil than in the heart of Erin's daughters. There is besides, too, a winning softness in their manner towards the stranger of another laud that imparts to their hospitable reception a tone of courteous warmth 1 have never seen in any other country. The freedom of manner I have here alluded to, however delightful it may render the hours of one separated from home, family, and friends, is yet not devoid of its inconveniences. How many an undiscijilined and uninformed youth has misconstrued its meaning and mistaken its import. JIow often, have I seen the raw subaltern elated with imaginery success — Hushed with a fancied victory — where, in reality, he liad met with nothing save the kind looks and the kind words in which the every-day courtesies of lifo are couched, and by which, >>^hat, in less favoured lands, are the cold and chilling obser- vances of ceremony, are here the easy and familiar intercourse of those who wish to know each other. The coxcomb who fancies that he can number as many triumphs as he has passed hours in Dublin, is like one who. et-timating the rich productions of a southern clime by their exotic value in his own colder regions, dignifies by the name of luxury what are in reality but the every-day ])roductions of the soil: so he believes peculiarly addressed to himself the cordial warmth and friendly greeting which make the social atmosphere around him. If I myself fell deeply into this error, and if my punishment was a heavy one, let my history prove a beacon to all who follow in my steps ; for Dublin is still a garrison city, and I have been told that lips as tempting and eyes as bright are to be met there as heretofore. Now to my story. Lite in Dublin, at the time I write of, was about as gay a thing as a man can well fancy. Less debarred than in other countries from ])artaking of the lighter enjoyments of life, the members of the learned professions mixed much in society; 52 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. bringing with them stores of anecdote and information nnattain- able from other sources, they made what elsewhere would have proved the routine of intercourse, a season of intellectual enjoyment. Thus, the politician, the churchman, the barrister, and the military man, shaken as they were together in close intimacy, lost individually many of the prejudices of their caste, and learned to converse with a wider and more extended knowledge of the world. While this was so, another element, peculiarly characteristic of the country, had its share in modelling social life : that innate tendency to drollery, that bent to laugh with every one and at everything, so eminently Irish, was now in the ascendant. From the viceroy downwards, the island was on the broad grin. Every day furnished its share, its quota of merriment. Epigrams, good stories, repartees, and practical jokes rained in showers over the land. A privy council was a conversazione of laughing bishops and droll chief justices. Every trial at the bar, every dinner at the court, every drawing-room, afforded a theme for some ready-witted absurdity ; and all the graver business of life was carried on amid this current of unceasing fun and untiring laughter, just as we see the serious catastrophe of a modern opera assisted by the crash of an orchestral accompaniment. With materials like these society was made up; and into this I plunged with all the pleasurable delight of one who, if he could not appreciate the sharpness, was at least dazzled by the brilliancy of the wit that flashed around him. My duties as aide-de-camp were few, and never interfered with my liberty: while in my double capacity of military man and attache to the court I was invited everywhere, and treated with marked courtesy and kindness. Thus passed my life pleasantly along, when a few mornings after the events I have mentioned, I was sitting at my breakfast, conning over my invitations for the week, and meditating a letter home, in which I should describe my mode of life with as much reserve as might render the record of my doings a safe disclosure for the delicate nerves of my lady-mother. In order to accomplish this latter task with success, I scribbled with some notes a sheet of paper that lay before me. " Among other particularly nice people, my dear mother," wrote I, '' there are the Rooneys. Mr. Rooney — a member of the Irish bar, of high standing and great reputation — is a most agreeable and accomplished person. How much I should like to present him to you." I had got 'ihus far when a husky, asthmatic cough, and a muttered curse on the height of my domicile, apprised me that some one was at my door. At the same moment a heavy single knock, that nearly stove in the panel, left no doubt upon my mind. " Are ye at home, or is it sleeping ye are ? May I never, if it's much else the half of yc's fit for. Ugh, blessed liour ! three JACK IlINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 53 flights of stairs with a twist an them instead of a landing'. Ye see he's not in the place : I tould you that before I came wy. but it's always the same thing. Corny, run here; Corny, lly there; get me this, take that. Bad luck to them ! One would tliink they badgered me for bare divarsion, the haythcns, the Turks!" A fit of coughing, that almost convinced me Corny had given his last curse, followed this burst of eloquence, just as I appeared at the door. '• What's the matter, Corny? " " The matter ?— ugh, ain't I cougliing my soul out with a wheezing and whi.stling in my chest like a creel of chickens. Here's Mr. Eoouey wanting to see ye; and faith," as he added in an undertone, '" it's not long you wor in making his acquain- tance. That's his room," added lie with a jerk of his thumb. "Now lave the way, if you plaze, and let me get ahowld of the bannisters." With these words Corny began his descent, wliile I, apologising to Mr. Roouey for not liaving sooner perceived him, bowed him into the room with all proper ceremony. " A thou.«and apologies, Mr. Hinton, for the unseasonable hour of my visit, but business " " Pray not a word," said I, " always delighted to see you. Mrs. Rooney is well, I hope .' " •' Charming, Tipon my honour. But, as I was saying, I could not well come later; there is a case in the King's Be-nch — Rex versus Ryves— a heavy record, and 1 want to catch the counsel to assure him that all's safe. Cod knows it has cost me an anxious night. Everything depended on one witness, an obstinate beast that wouldn't listen to reason : we got hold of him last night; got three doctors to certify he was out of his mind ; and, at this moment, with his head .shaved, and a grey suit on him, he is the noisiest inmate in Glassnevin mad- house." " AVas not this a very bold, a .very dangerous expedient? " "So it was: he fought like the devil, and his outrageous conduct has its reward, for they put him on low diet and handcutfs the moment he went in. But excuse me, if I make a hurried visit. Mrs. Rooney requests that — that— but where the devil did T put it?" Here Mr. Rooney felt his coat-pockets, dived into those of his waistcoat, patted himself all over, then looked into his hat. then round the room, on the floor, and even outside the door upon the lobby. " Surely it is not possible I've lost it." " Nothing of consequence, I hope ? " said I. "AVhat a head I have," replied ho, with a knowing grin, while at the same moment, throwing up the sash of my window, 54 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. he thrust out the head in qnestion, and gave a loud shrill ■whistle. Scarcely was the casement closed when a ragged urchin apiDcared at the door, carrying on his back the ominous stuff- bag containing the record of Mr. Eooney's rogueries. " Give me the bag, Tim," quoth he ; at the same moment he pUuigedhis hand deep among the tape-tied parcels, and extricated a piece of square pasteboard, which, having straightened and flattened upon his knee, he presented to me with a graceful bow, adding jocosely, " An ambassador without his credentials would never do." It was an invitation to dinner at Mr. Eooney's for the memor- able Friday for which my friend O'Grady had already received his card. "Nothing will give me more pleasure " "No, will it though? how very good of you! a small cosy party, — Harry Burgh, Bowes Daley, Barrington, the judges, and a few more. There now, no ceremony, I beg of you. Come along, Joe. Good morning, Mr. Hinton : not a step further." So saying, Mr. Booney backed and shuffled himself out of my room, and, followed by his faithful attendant, hurried down- stairs, muttering a series of self-gratulations, as he went, on the successful result of his mission. Scarcely had he gone, wlien I heard the rapid stride of another visitor, who, mounting four stejjs at a time, came along chanting at the top of his voice — " My two back teeth, I will bequeath To the Reverend Michael Palmer; His wife has a tongue that'll match them well, She's a devil of a scold, G — d d n her 1 " "How goes it. Jack, my hearty ? " cried he, as he sprang into the room. Hinging his sabre into the corner, and hurling lii.s foraging cap upon the sofa. " You have been away, O'Grady ? "What became of you for the last two days ? " " Down at the Curragh, taking a look at the nags for the spring meeting. Dined with the bar at Naas; had a great night with them ; made old iloore gloriously tipsy, and sent him into court the next morning with the overture to IMothcr Goose in his bag instead of his brief. Since daybreak I've been try- ing a new horse in the park, screwing him over all the I'ieJices, and rushing him at the double rails in the pathwa3% to see if he can't cross the country." "Why, the hunting season is nearly over." "Qviite true; but it is the Loughrea steei)lc-chase I am thinking of. I have joromised to name a horse, and I only JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 55 remcmhored last night that I liacl but twent3''-four hours to do it. The time was short, but by good fortune I lieard of thia grey on my way up to town." "And you think he'll do?" *' He has a good chance, if one can only Icoep on his bade; but what between bolting, plunging, and rushing through his fences, he is not a beast for a timid elderly gentleman. Alter all, one must have something: the whole world will be there; the Ilooneys are going; and that pretty little girl with them. By-the-bye, Jack, what do you think of Miss Bellew?" " I can scared)^ tell you ; I only saw her for a moment, and then that Hibernian hippoj^otamus, Mrs. Paul, so completely overshadowed her. there was no getting a look at her." " Devilish pretty girl, that she is ; nnd one day or other, they Bay, will have an immense fortune. Old Rooney always shakes his head when the idea is thrown out, which only convinces me the more of her chance." "Well, then. Master Phil, why don't you do something in *hat quarter? " " Well, so I should ; but somehow, most unaccountably you'll say, I don't think I made my impression. To be sure, I never went vigorously to work : I couldn't get over my scruples of making up to a girl who may have a large fortune, while I my- self am so confoundedly out at the elbows ; the thing would look badly, to say the least of it; and so, when I did think I was making a little running, I only held the faster, and at length gave np the race. You are the man, Hiuton. Your chances, I should say " " Ah, I don't know/' Just at this moment the door opened, and Lord Dudley de Vere entered, dressed in coloured clothes, cut in the most foppish style of the day, and with his hands stuck negligently behind in his coat-pockets. lie threw himself aifectcdly into a chair, and eyed us both without speaking. " I sa)% Messieurs, Rooney or not Rooney, that's the question. Do we accept this invitation for Friday ? " " I do for one," said 1. somewhat haughtily. " Can't be, my boy," said O'Grady : " the thing is most unlucky; they have a dinner at court that same day ; our names are all on the list; and thus we lose the Rooneys. which, front all I hear, is a very serious loss indeed. Curran, Barring- ton, Harry Martin, and half-a-dozen others, the first fellows of the day, are all to be there." " What a deal they will talk," yawned out Lord Dudley. " I feel rather happy to have escaped it. There's no saying a word to the woman besides you, as long as those confounded fellows keep np a roaring fire of what they think wit. What an idea ! to be sure, there is not a man among them that can tell you the 56 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. odds upon the Derby, nor what year there wa? a dead heat for the St. Leger. That little gui the Rooneys have got is very pretty, I mnst confess; but I see what they are at: won't do, thongh. Ha ! O'Grady, you know what I mean ? " " Faith, I am very stui^id this morning ; can't say that I do." " ISTot see it! It is a hollow thing; but perhaps you are in the scheme too. There, you needn't look angry; lonly meant it in joke — ha! ha! ha! I say, Hiiiton, do you take care of yourself: Englishers have no chance here; and when they find it won't do with me they'll take you in training." " Anything lor a pis-aller," said O'Grady, sarcastically ; " but let us not forget there is a levee to-day, and it is already past twelve o'clock." " Ha ! to be sure, a horrid bore." So saying, Lord Dudley lounged once more round the room, looked at himself in the glass, nodded familiarly to his own image, and took his leave. O'Grady soon followed; while I set about my change of dress with all the speed the time required. CHAPTER IX. THE BALL As the day of Mr. Rooney's grand entertainment drew near our disai)pointnient increased tenfold at onr inability to be present. The only topic discussed in Dublin was the number of the guests, the splendour and magnidcence of the dinner, which ■was to be followed by a ball, at which above eight hundred guests were exjiected. The band of the Fermanagh niihtia, at that time the most celebrated in Ireland, was brought up expressly for the occasion. All that the city could number of rank, wealth, and beauty had received invitations, and scarcely a single apology had been returned. " Is there no j^ossible way," said I, as I chatted with O'Grady on the morning of the event ; " is there no chance of our getting away in time to see something of the ball at least ? " " None whatever," replied he, despondingly ; " as ill luck would have it, it's a command-night at the theatre. The duke has disappointed so often, that he is sure to go now, and for tlie same reason he'll sit the whole thing out. By that time it svill be half-]">ast twelve, we shan't get back here before one; then comes supper; and in fact, you know enough of the habits of this place now to guess that after that there is veiy little use of thinking of going anywhere." JACK JIIATOX, THE UUARDSMAN. 57 "It is devilish provoking," said I. '■That It is: and you don't kuow the worst of it. I've jjot rather a heavy book on the Loufjhrca race, and shall want a fesv linndrcds in a week or £0; and, as notlnnj^ renders my friend I'aul so sulky as not eating his dinners, it is tive-and- twenty per cent, at least out of my pocket, from this confounded cuiitirtein)>s. There goes Dii Vere. I say, Dudley, who have we at dinner to day ? " *' Harrington and the Asgills, and that set," replied he, with an in«)lent shrng of his shoidder. ".Mure of it, by Jove," said O'Grady, biting his lip. "One mnst be as particular before these people as a young sub. at a regimental moss. There's not a button of your coat, not a looj) of your aiguilette, not a twist of your sword knot, little Charley won't note down ; and as there is no orderly- book in the draw- ing-room, he will whisper to liis grace before coti'ee," ■" ^Vhat a bore ! ' " Av, and to think that all that time we might have bee« np to the very chin in I'un. The Rooneys today will outdo even themselves. They've got half-a-dozen new lords on trial ; all the judges; a live bishop; and, better than all, every pretty woman in the capital. I've a devil of a mind to get suddenly ill, and slip off to Paul's for the dessert." "Iso, no, that's out of the question; we must cily ]iut up with our misfortunes as well as we can. As for me, the dinner here is, I think, tlie worst part of the matter." "I estimate my losses at a very dilferent rate. First, there is the three hundred, which I should certainly have had from Pan), and which now becomes a very crooked contingency. Then there's the dinner and two bottles — I speak moderately — of such burgundy as nobody has but himself. These are the positive houdfulc losses : then, what do you say to my cliance of picking up some lovely girl, with a stray thirty thousand, and the good taste to look out f )r a proper fellow to spend it with ? Seriously, Jack, I must think of something of that kind one of these days. It's wrong to lose time; for, by waiting, one's chances diminish, while becoming more difficult to please. So you see what a heavy blow this is to me : not to mention my little gains at short-whist, which iu the half hour before supper 1 may lairl}^ set down as a fifty." "Yours is a very complicated calculation; for, except thd dinner, and I suppose we shall have as good a one here. I have not been able to see anything but problematic loss or profit." "Of course you haven't: your English education is based Tipon grounds far too positive for that; birt we mere Irish pet a habit of looking at the possible as probable, and the probable as most likely. I don't think we build castles more than our neighbours, but we certainly go live iu them earlier ; and if W9 eS JACK IIIXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. do, now and tlien, yoc a chill for our pains, why we generally have another building ready to receive us elsewhere for chauge of air." "This is, I confess, somewhat strange philosophy." '■ To be sure it is, my boy; for it is of pure native manu- facture. Every other peojile I ever heard of deduce tliein happiness from their advantages and prosperity. As we have very little of one or the other, we extract some fun out of our misfortunes; and, what between laughing occasionally at our- selves, and sometimes at our neighbours, we push along through life right merrily after all. So now, then, to apply my theory : let us see what we can do to make the best of this disappoint- ment. Shall I make love to Lady Asgill? Shall I quiz Sir Charles about the review? Or can you suggest auytliing in the way of a little extemporaneous devilry, to console us for our disappointment? But, come along, my boy, we'll take a canter; I want to show you Moddiridderoo. He improves every day in his training ; but they tell me there is only one man can sit him across a country, a fellow I don't much fancy, by-the-bye : but the turf, like jaoverty, leads us to form some- what strange acquaintances. Meanwhile, my boy, here come the nags ; and now for the park till dinner." During our ride 'Grady informed me that the individual to whom he so slightly alluded was a Mr. Ulick Burke, a cousin of Miss Bellew. This individual, who by family and connections was a gentleman, had contrived by his life and habits to dis- qualitiy himself from any title to the appellation in a very considerable degree. Having squandered the entire of his patrimony on the turf, he had followed the apparently immutable law on such occasions, and ended b}"- becoming a hawk, where he had begun as a pigeon. For many years past he had lived by the exercise of those most disreputable sources, his own wits. Present at every race-course in the kingdom, and provided with that under-current of information obtainable from jockeys and stable-men, he understood all the intrigue, all the low cunuiiag of the course : he knew when to back the favourite, when to give, when to take the odds: and, if ujoon any occasion he was seen to lay heavily against a well-known horse, the presumption became a strong one, that he was either "wrong " or withdrawn. But his qualifications ended not here; for he was also that sin- gular anomaly in our social condition, a gentleman-rider, ready upon any occasion to get into the saddle for any one that engaged his services ; a flat race, or a steeplechase, all the same to him. His neck was his livelihood, and to support, he must rit^k it. A racing-jacket, a jiair of leathers and tops, a heavy handlod-whip, and a shot-belt, were his stock-in-trade, and he travelled through the world a species of sporting Dalgetty, minus the probity which made the latter firm to his engage- JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 5y merits, so long as they lasted : at least, report denied the quality to Mr. Bnrke, and those who Lncw liiin well scrupled not to say that lifty pounds had exactly twice as many arguments ia its favour as iivc-and-twenty. 80 luucli then in brief concerning a cliaracter to whom I shall hereafter have occasion to recur, and now to my own narrative. O'Grady's anticipations as to the Castle dinner were not in the least exaggerated nothing could possibly be more stiff 01 tiresome ; the entertainment being given, as a kind of ex-offidour grace could only witness it yourself." " Yj\\ r Is it so very good, then ? " " Nothing ever was like it ; tor, although the company is admirable, the host and hostess are matchless." "Egad! you've quite excited my curiosity. I say, O'Grady, would they know me, think ye.^ Have you no uncle or country cousin about my weight and build?" "Ah. my lord, that ib out ot the question ; you are too well known to assume an inrognito : but slill, if you wi.sh to see it tor a few minutoH, nothing could be easier than ju.'^t to walk through the rooms and come away. The crowd will be such the thing is quite practicable, done in that way." " By Jove, I don't know ; but if I tliouglit To be sure, as you say, tor live minutes or so one mi<;ht get through. Come, here goes : order up the carriages. IS'ow mind, O'Grady, I am under your mauiigement. Do the thing as quietly as you can." Elated at the success of his scheme. Phil scarcely waited for his grace to conclude, hut sprang down the box-lobby to give the Decessary orders, and was back again in an instant. " Don't you think I had better take this star off? " " Oh no, ray lord, it will not be necessary. By timing the thing well, we'll contrive to get your grace into the midst of the crowd without r.ttractiiig observation. Once there, the rest is easy enough." Many minutes had not elapsed ere we reached the corner of Grafton-street. Here we became entangled with the line of carriages, which extended more than half way round Stephen's- green, and, laie as was the hour, were still thronging and pressing onwards towards tne scene of festivity. O'Grady, who contrived entirely to engross his grace's attention by many bits of the gossip and small-talk of the da3% did not permit him to remark that the viceregal liveries and the guard of honour that accompanied us enabled us to cut the line of carriages, and taking precedence of all others, arrive at the door at once. Indeed, so occupied was the duke with some story at the moment, that he was half provoked as ttie door was Hung open, and the clattering clash of the steps iulcrrupted the conversa- tion. " Here wc are, my lord." said Phil. "Well, got out, O'Grady. Lead on. Don't forget it is my first visit here ; and you, I fancy, know the map of the country." G 62 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. The hall in which we found ourselves, brilliantly lighted and thronged with servants, presented a scene of the most strange confusion and tumult ; for, such was the eagerness of the guests to get forward, many 23ersons were separated from their friends : turbaned old ladies • called in cracked voices for their sons to rescue them, and desolate daughters seized distractedly the arm nearest them, and implored succour with an accent as agonizing as though on the eve of shipwreck. Mothers screamed, fathers swore, footmen laughed, and high above all came the measured tramp of the dancers overhead, while fiddles, French horns, and dulcimers scraped and blew their worst, as if purposely to increase the inextricable and maddening confusion that prevailed. '' Sir Peter and Lady Macfarlane ! " screamed the servant at the top of the stairs. '■ Counsellor and Mrs. Blake." " Captain O'Ryan of the Rifles." "LordDumboy ." "Dunboyne, you villian ! " "Ay, Lord Dunboyne and five ladies." Such were the announcements that preceded us as we wended our way slowly on, while I could ctistinguish Mr. Rooney's voice receiving and welcoming his guests, for which purpose he used a formula, in part derived from the practice of an auction- room. ''Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, walk in. Whist, tea, dancing, negus, and blind-hookey — delighted to see you— walk in; " and so, da capn, only vai'ying the ritual when a lord or a baronet necessitated a change of title. " You're quite right O'Grady; I wouldn't have lost this for a great deal," whispered the duke. " Now, my lord, permit me," said Phil. " Hinton and I will engage Mr. Rooney in conversation, while your grace can pass on and mix with the crowd." " Walk in, walk in, ladies and ■ Ah ! how are you, captain? This is kind of you Mr. Hinton, your humble servant Whist, dancing, blind-hookey, and negus — walk iu — and, Captain Phil," added he in a whis^aer, "a bit of supper by-and-by below stairs.'' "I must tell you an excellent thing, Roone}^, before I forget it," said O'Grady, turning the host's attention away from the door as he spoke, and inventing some imaginary secret for the occasion ; while I followed his grace, who now was so inex- tricably jammed up in the dense mob that any recognition of him would have been very difficult, if not actually impossible. For some time I could j^erceivo that the duke's attention was devoted to the conversation about him. Some half-dozen ladies were carrying on a very active and almost 'acrimonious JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 63 controversy on the Ruliject of dress ; not however with any artistic pretension of" rft^iilating costume or colour, not dis- cussiut;: the njectiou of an old or the udoption of a new mode, but with a much morj practical spirit of inquiry they were a])prai.' Beard, and j\Irs. Paulltooney aj^pearcd in the open space, in all the plenitude of her charms — a perfect blaze of rouge, red feathers, and rubies — marching in solemn state. She moved along in time to the music, followed by Paul, whose cunning eyes twinkled with more than a common shrewdness, as he peered here and there through the crowd. They came straight towards where we were standing ; and while a whispered murmur ran through the room, the various persons around us drew back, leaving the duke and myself completely isolated. Before his grace could recover his concealment, Mrs. Ilooney stood before him. The music suddenly ceased; while the lady, disposing her petticoats as though the object were to conceal all the company behind her, courtesicd down to the very floor. " Ah ! your grace," uttered in an accent of the most melting tenderness, wei'e the only words she could speak, as she bestowed a look of still more speaking softness. " Ah, did I ever hope to see the day when your highness would honour " " My dear madam," said the duke, as taking her hand with great courtesy, " pray don't overwhelm me with obligations. A very natural, I hope a very pardonable desire, to witness hosj^itality I have heard so much of, has led me to intrude thus 64 7^<^^ HINT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. uninvited upon you. Will you allow me to make Mr. Eooney's acquaintance?" Mrs. Rooney moved gracefully to one side, waving her hand with the air of a magician about to summon an attorney from the earth, when suddenly a change came over his grace's features; and. as he covered his mouth with his handkerchief, it was with the greatest difficulty he refrained from an open burst of laughter. The figure before him was certainly not calculated to^suggest gravity. Mr. Paul Eooney for the first time in his life found himself the host of a viceroy, and, amid the fumes of his wine and the excitement of the scene, entertained some very confused notion of certain ceremonies observable on such occasions. He had read of curious observances in the East, and strange forms of etiquette in China,_ and probably, had the Khan of Tartary dropped in on the evening in question, his memory would have supplied him with some hints for his reception ; but, with the representative of Britannic majesty, before whom he was so completely overpowered, he could not think of, nor decide upon anything. A very misty impression flitted through his mind, that people occasionally knelt before a lord lieutenant ; but whether they did so at certain moments, or as a general practice, for the life of him he could not tell. While, therefore, the dread of omitting a customary etiquette weighed with him on one hand, the fear of ridicule actuated him on The other ; and thus he advanced into the presence with bent knees and a supplicating look eagerly turned towards the duke, ready at anv moment to drop down or stand upright before him as the circumstances might warrant. Entering at once mto the spirit of the scene, the duke bowed •with the most formal courtesy, while he vouchsafed to Mr. B,ooney some few expressions of compliment. At the same time, drawing Mrs. Eooney's arm within his own, he led her down the room, with a grace and dignity of manner no one was more master of than himself. As for Paul, apparently unable to stand upright under the increasing load of favours that fortune was showering upon his head, he looked over his s^houlder at Mrs. Eooney, as she marched off in.triumph, with the same exuberant triumph Young used to throw into Othello, as he passionately exclaims — " Kxcelleat wencli ! perdition catch ray soul, but I cIo love tliee !" Not but that, at the very moment in question, the object of it was most ungratefully oblivious of Mr. Eooney and his affection. Had Mrs. Paul Eooney been asked on the morning after her ball, what was her most accurate notion of Elysian bliss, ehe probably would have answered, — leaning upon a viceroy'? JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 65 arm in lier own ball-room, under the envious stare and jealous E;azo of eif^ht hundred assembled guests. Her flushed look, her Hasliing eye, the trembling hand with which she waved her fan, the proud imperious step, all spoke of triumph. In fact, sucli was the halo of reverence, such the rcllectcd brightness the representative of monarchy then bore, she felt it a prouder ho))our to be thus escorted, than if the emperor of all the Russias had deigned to grace her mansion with his presence. How she loved to run over every imaginable title she conceived applicable to his rank, " Your Royal Highness," " Your Grace," " Your noble Lordship," varying and combining them, like a child who runs his erring fingers over the keys of a pianoforte, and is delighted with the efforts of his skill. While this kingly scene was thus enacting, the ball-room resumed its former life and vivacity. This indeed was owing to O'Grady : no sooner had his scheme succeeded of delivering up the Duke into the hands of the Rooneys, than he set about restoring such a degree of turmoil, tumult, noise, and merriment, as, while it should amuse his Grace, would rescue him from tin' annoyance of being stared at by many who never had walked the boards with a live viceroy. " Isn't it gloriously done, Ilinton ? '' he whispered in my ear as he passed. " Now lend me your aid, my boy, to keep the ■whole thing moving. Get a partner as quick as you can, and let us try if we can't do the honours of the house, while the master and mistress are basking in the sunshine of royal favour." As he spoke, the band struck up " Haste to the Wedding ! " The dancers assumed their places. Phil himself Hying hither and thither, arranging, directing, ordering, countermanding, providing partners for joersons he had never seen before, and introducing individuals of whose very names he was ignorant. "Push along, Hintoii," said he; "only set them going — speak to every one — half the men in the room answer to the name of ' Bob,' and all the young ladies arc ' ^Miss Magees.' Go it, my boy; this is a great night for Ireland ! " This hapjiy land, indeed, which, like a vast powder-magazine, only wants but the smallest spark to ignite it, is always prepared for an explosion of fun. No sooner than did O'Grady, taking out the fattest woman in the room, proceed to lead her down the middle to the liveliest imaginable country-dance, than at once the contagious spirit flew through the room, and dancers pressed in from every side. Champagne served round in abundance, added to the excitement ; and, as eight-aud-thirty couple made the floor vibrate beneath them, such a scene of noise, laughter, uproar, and merriiueut ensued, as it wero ditficult to conceive or describe. 56 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. CHAPTER X. A FINALE TO AN EVENING. A BALL, like a Lattle, has its critical moment : that one short and subtle point, on which its trembling fate would seem to hesitate, ere it incline to this side or that. In both, such is the time for generalship to display itself: and of this m}' friend O'Grady seemed well aware ; for, calling up his reserve for an attack in force, he ordered strong negus for the band ; and ere many minutes, the increased vigour of the instruments attested that the order had been attended to. " Right and left! " " Hands across ! " " Here we are ! " " This way, Peter ! " " Ah ! captain, you're a droll crayture ! " " Move along, alderman ! '' " That negus is mighty strong !" " The Lord grant the house is ! " Such and such like ]ihrases broke around me, as, under the orders of the irresistible Phil, I shufHed down the middle with a dumpy little schoolgirl, with red hair and red shoes ; which, added to her capering motion, gave her a most unhappy resemblance to a cork I'airy. "You are a trump. Jack," said Phil. "Never give in. I never was in such spirits in my life. Two bottles of cham- pagneunder my belt, and a cheque for three hundred Paul has jiist given me without a scrape of my pen ; it might have been five if I had only had presence of mind." " AVhere is Miss Bellew all this time ? " inquired I. " I only saw her for a moment : she looks saucy, and won't dance." My_ pride, somewhat stimulated by a fact which I could not help interpreting in Miss Bellew's favour, I went through the rooms_ in search of her, and at length discovered her in a boudoir, where a whist-party were assembled. She was sittino- np.on a .'^ofa, beside a tall, venerable-looking old man, to whom she was listening with a semblance of the greatest attention as I entered. I had some time to observe her, and could not help teeling struck ho^v much handsomer she was than I had formerly supposed. _ Her figure, slightly above the middle size, and most graceful in all its proportions, was, perhaps, a little too jnuch disposed to ntilovpomt ; the cliaracter of her features, however, seemed to suit, if not actually to require as much. _Her eyes of deep blue, set well beneath her brow, had a look of intensity in them that evidenced thought; but the other features relieved by their graceful softness this strong cxpres- sion, and a nose short and slightly, very slightly retrousse, with JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 67 a mouth, the M'vy perfection of eloquent and winning softiii'ss, iiuulo anijile aiuemls to those who jirefer charms purely feminine to Ijeauty of a severer character. Her hair, too, was of that deep auburn through which a golden light seems for ever playing; and this, contrary to the taste of the day, she wore simply braided upon her temjile and cheeks, marking the oval contour of her i'ace, and displaying, by this graceful coquetry, the perfect chiselling of her features. Let me add to this, that her voice was low and soft in all its tones ; and, if the ]iroviucialism with wliicli slie spoke did at nrst offend my ear, I learned afterwards to think that the breathing intonations of the west lent a charm of their own to all she said, deepening tlie pathos of a simple story, or heightening the drollery of a merry one. Yes, laugh if you will, ye high-bred and high-born denizens of a richer sphere, whose ears, attuned to the rhythm of Metastasio, softly borne on the strains of Donizetti, can scarce pardon the intrusion of your native tongue in the every-day concerns of life — smile if it so please ye; but from the lips of a lovely woman, a little, avcnj Little of the brogue is most seduc- tive. Whether the subject be grave or gay, whether mirth or melancholy be the mood, like the varnish upon a picture, it brings out all the colour into strong eilect, brightening the lights, and deepening the shadows ; and then, somehow, there is an air of luiivett', a tone of simplicity about it, that a2)peal3 equally to your heart as your hearing. Seeing that the conversation in which she was engaged seemed to engross her entire attention, I Avas about to retire without addressing her, when suddenly she turned round and her eyes met mine : I accordingly came forward, and, after a few of the common-place civilities of the moment, asked her to dance. " Tray, excuse me, Mr. Ilinton, I have declined already several times : 1 have been fortunate enough to meet with a very old and dear friend of my father " " Who is much too attached to his daughter to permit her to waste an entire evening upon him. No, sir, if you will allow me, I will resign Miss Bellow to your care." ohe said something in a low voice, to which he muttered in rejjly : the only words which I could catch — "No, no; very diU'crent, indeed — this is a most proper jierson " — seemed, as they were accumpanied by a smile of much kindness, in some way to concern me; and the ne.\t moment Miss Bellew took my arm and accompanied me to the ball-room. As I passed the sofa where the duke and Mrs. Rooney were still seated, his grace nodded familiarly to me, with a gesture of approval; wliile Mrs. Paul clasped both her hands betore her witli a movement of ecstacy, and seemed about to bestow upon us a maternal blessing. Fearful of incurring a scene. Miss 68 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. Bellew hastened on, and, as her arm trembled within mine, I could perceive how deeply the ridicule of her friend's position wounded, her own pride. Meanwhile, I could just catch the tones of Mrs. Eooney's voice, explaining to the duke Miss Bellew's pedigree. " One of the oldest families of the land, your grace; came over with Romulus and Eemus ; and, if it were not for Oliver Cromwell and the Danes," — the con- founded fiddles lost the rest, and I was left in the darlc, to guess what these strange allies had infiicted upon the Bellew family. The dancing now began, and only between the intervals of the cotillon had I an opportunity of conversing with my partner. Few and brief, as these occasions were, I was delighted to find in her a tone and manner quite different from anything I had ever met before. Although having seen scarcely anything of the world, her knowledge of character seemed an instinct, and her quick appreciation of the ludicrous features of many of the company was accompanied by a, naive expression, and at the same time a witty terseness of phrase, that showed me how much real intelligence lay beneath that laughing look. Unlike my fair cousin, Lady Julia, her raillery never wounded : hers were the fanciful com- binations which a vivid and sparkling imagination conjures Tip, but never the barbed and bitter arrows of sarcasm. Catch- ing up in a second any passing absurdity, she could laugh at the scene, yet seem to spare the actor. Julia, on the contrary, with what the French call Vcsprit moqueur, never felt that her ■wit had hit its mark till she saw her victim writhing and quivering beneath her. There is always something in being the jjartner of the bello of a ball-room. The little bit of envy and jealousy, whose limit is to be the duration of a waltz or quadrille, has somehow its feeling of pleasure. There is the reflective flattery in the thought of a fancied preference, that raises one in his own esteem; and, as the muttered compliments and half spoken praises of the bystanders fall upon your ears, you seem to feel that you are a kind of shareholder in the company, and ought to retire from business with your portion of tiie profits. Such, I know, were some of my feelings at the period in question; and, as I ])ulled up my stock and adjusted my sash, I looked upon the crowd about me with a sense of considerable self-satisfaction, and began really for the first time to enjoy myself. Scarcely was the dance concludeJ, when a general movement was perceptible towards the door, and the word " suj^per " repeated from voice to voice, announced that the merriest hour in Irish life had sounded. Delighted to have Miss Bellew for my companion, I edged my way into the mass, and was borne along on the current. The view from the top of the staircase JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 69 was sufficiently amusiiifr ; a wavinp^ mass of feathers of every shape and luie, a crowd of span^did turbans, bald and [(OwdtTcd heads, seemed wedged inextricably to<(ether, swayinj^ backwards and forwards with one impulse, as the crowd at the door of the su]ij)erroom ailvanced or receded. The crash of jilates and knives, the jingling of glasses, the popjiing ot champagne corks, told that the attack had begun, had not even the eager faces of those nearer the door indicated as much. Nulli ocidl rcirortmm .'^eenicJ the motto of the day, save when some anxioufi mother would turn a backward and uneasy glance towards the staircase, where her daughter, preferring a lieu- tenant to a lobster, was listening with elated look to his tale of love and glory. " Eliza, my dear, sit next me." — " Anna, my love, come down here." These brief commands, significantly as they were uttered, would be lost to those for whom intended, and only serve to amuse the bystanders, and awaken them to a quicker perception of the passing flirtation. JSoine philosopher has gravely remarked, that the critical moments of our life are the transitions from one stage or state of our existence to another; and that our fate for the future depends in a great measure upon tl;ose hours in which we emerge from infancy to boyhood, from boyhood to manhood, irom manhood to niaturer years. Perhaps the arguments of time might be applied to place, and we might thus bo enabled to show how a staircase is the most dangerous i)ortiou of a building; 1 speak not here of the insecurity of the architecture, nor, indeed, of any staircase whose well-tempered light shines down at noonday through the perfumed foliage of a conservatory ; but of the same place, a blaze of lamplight, about two in the morning, crowded, crammed, and creaking by an anxious and elated throng pressing towards a supper-room. Whether it is the supper or the squeeze, the odour of balmy lips, or the savoury smell of roast ducks — whether it bo the approach to silk tresses, or sillery mousseux — whatever the provocation, 1 cannot ex[ilain it ; but the fact is so : one is tremendously given in such a place, at such a time, to the most barefaced and palpable flirtation. So strongly do I feel this ^loint, that, were I a law- giver, I would never award damages for a breach of coiitract, where the jiromise was made on a staircase. As for me, my acquaintance with ]Miss Bollesv was not of more than an hour's standing : during that time we had con- trived to discuss the ball-room, its guests, its lights, its decora- tions, the music, the dancers — in a word, all the common-places of an evening party : thence we wandered on to Duijliii, society in general, to Ireland, and Irish habits, and Irish tastes; quizzed each other a little about our respective peculiarities, and had just begun to discuss the distinctive features which characterise the softer emotions in the two nations, when the 70 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. announcement of supper brought us on tlie staircase. Apropos, or mal apropos, this turn of our conversation, let the reader decide by what I have ah-eady stated: so it was, however, and in a Utile nook of the landing I ibund mj^self with my fair com- panion's arm pressed closely to my side, engaged in a warm controversy on the trite subject of English coldness of manner. Advocating my country, I deemed that no more fitting defence could be entered, than b}'- evidencing in myself the utter absence cf the frigidity imputed. Champagne did something for me ; Louisa's bright eyes assisted ; but the staircase, the confounded staircase, crowned all. In fact, the undisguised openness of Miss Bellew's manner, the fearless simplicity with which she had ventured upon topics a hardened coquette would not dare to touch upon, led me into the common error of imput- ing to flirtation, what was only due to the untarnished freshness of happy girlhood. Finding my advances well received, I began to feel not a little proud of my success, and disposed to plume myself upon the charm of my eloquence, when, as I concluded a high-flown and inflated phrase of sentimental absurdity, she suddenly turned round, fixed her bright eyes upon me, and burst out into a fit of laughter. " There, there ; pray don't try that : no one but an Irishman ever succeeds in blarney. It is our national dish, and can never be seasoned by a stranger." This pull up, for such it most effectually was, completely unmanned me. I tried to stammer out an explanation, endeavoured to laugh, coughed, blundered, and broke down ; while, merciless in her triumph, she only laughed the more, and seemed to enjoy my confusion. With such a failure hanging over me, I felt happy when we reached the supper-room ; and the crash, din, and confusion about us once more broke in upon our conversation. It requires far less nerve for the dismounted jockey, whose gay jacket has been rolled in the mud of a racecourse, resuming his saddle, to ride in amid the jeers and scoffs of ten thousand spectators, than for the gallant who has blundered in the full tide of a fiirtation, to recover his lost position, and sustain tlie current of his courtship. The sarcasm of our sex is severe enough, heaven knows ; but no raillery, no ridicule, cuts half so sharp or half so deep as the bright twinkle of a pretty girl's eye, when, detecting some exhibition of dramatized passion, some false glitter of pinchbeck sentiment, she exchanges her look of gratified attention, for the merry mockery of a hearty laugh : no tact, no sdvuir fain', no knowledge of the world, no old soldierism that ever I heard of, was proof against this. To go back is bad ; to standstill, worse; to go on, impossible. The best — for I believe it is the only thing to do — is to turn approver JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 71 on your own riiisdeeds, and join in the laughter against yourself. Kow this requires no common self-mastery, and an dpiouih few young gentlemen under twenty possess, hence both my failure and its punishment. That staircase which, but a mouieut before, I wished might be as long as a journey to Jerusalem,! now escaped from with thanktulness. Concealing my discomfiture as well as I was able I bustled about, and finally secured a place for my companion at one of the side tables. We were too far from tlie head of the table, but the clear ringing of his grace's laughter informed me of his vicinity, and, as 1 saw ^Miss licllew shrank from approaching that part of the room, I surrendered my curiosity to the far more gr;i1eful tusk of cultivating her acquaintance. All the ardour of my attentions — and I had resumed them ■with nearly as much warmth, althougli less risk of dis- comfiture, for I began to feel what before 1 had only professed — ail the preoccupation of my mind, could not prevent my hearing high above the crash and clatter of tlie tables the rich roundness of Mrs. Rooney's brogue, as she recounted to the duke some interesting trait of the O'Toole family, or adverted to some classical era in Irish history, when, ]iossibly, Mecainas was mayor of Cork, or Diogenes an alderman of fcSkiuuer's- alley. "x\h I my dear ! — the Lord forgive me, I mean your grace." "I shall never forgive you, Mrs. Eooney, if you change the epithet. " "Ah! your grace's worship, them was fine times ; and the husband of an O Toole, in them days, spent more of his time harreying the country with his troops at his back, than driving about in an old gig full of writs and latitats, with a process- server behind him." Had ]\rr. Rooncy. who at that moment was carving a hare in total ignorance of his wife's sarcasm, only heard the speech, the chances are ten to one he would have figured in a steel breast-plate and an iron head piece before the week was over. I was unable to hear more of tiie conversation, notwithstanding my great wish to do so, as a movement of those next the door implied that a large instalment of the guests who had not supped would wait no longer, but were about to make what Mr. Eooney called a forcible entry on a summary process, and eject the tenant in possession. We accordingly rose, and all (save the party around the viceroy) along with us, once more to visit the ball-room, where already dancing had begun. "While I. was eagerly endeavouring to persuade i\Iiss Bellew that there was no cause or just impedi- ment to prevent her dancing the next set with me, Lord Dudley de V^ere lounged affectedly forward, and mumbled out some broken indistinct phrases, in which the word da — ance was 72 yACiv niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. alone audible. Miss Bellow coloured slightly, turned lier eyes towards me, courtesied, took his arm, and the next moment was lost amid the crowd. I am not aware of any readier method of forming a notion of the perpetual motion than watching the performance of Sir Roger de Coverley at an evening party in Dublin. It seems to be a point of honour never to give in ; and thus the same com- plicated figures, the same mystic movements that you see in the beginning, continue to succeed each other in a never-endins? series. You endeavour in vain to detect the jjlan, to unravel the tangled web of this strange ceremony ; but somehow it would seem as if the whole thing was completely discretionary with the dancers, there being only one point of agreement among them, which is, whenever blown and out of breath, to join in a vigorous hands-round ; and, the motion being confined to a shufEing of the feet, and a shaking of the elbows, little fatigue is incurred. To this succeeds a capering forward move- ment of a gentleman, which seemingly magnetizes an opjiosite lady to a similar exhibition : then, after seizing each other rapturously by the hands, they separate to run the gauntlet in and out down the whole line of dancers, to meet at the bottom, when, apparently reconciled, they once more embrace. What follows, the devil himself may tell. As for me, I heard only laiighing, tittering, now and then a slight scream, and a cry of "behave, Mr. Murphy ! " &c. ; but the movements them- selves were conic sections to me, and I closed my eyes as I sat alone in my corner, and courted sleep as a short oblivion to the scene. Unfortunately I succeeded ; for, wild and singular as the gestures, the looks, and the voices were before, they now became to my dreaming senses something too terrible. I thought myself in the centre of some hobgoblin orgie, where demons, male and female, were performing their fantastic antics around me, grinning hideously, and uttering cries of menacing import. Tarn O'Shanter's vision was a respectable tea-party of Glasgow matrons, compared to my imaginings ; for, so dis- torted were the pictures of my brain, that the leader of the band, a peaceable-looking old man in shorts and spectacles, seemed to me like a grim-visaged imp, who fiourished his tail across the strings of his instrument in lieu of a bow. I must confess that the dancers, without any wish on my part to detract from their eff'orts, had not the entire merit of this transmutation. Fatigue, for the hour was late, chagrin at being robbed of my partner, added to the heat and the crowd, had all their share in the mystification. Besides, if I must con- fess it, Mr. Rooney's champagne was strong. My friend O'Grady, however, seemed but little of my opinion; for, like the master-spirit of the scene, he seemed to direct every movement and dictate every change — no touch of fatigue, no semblance of JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. -ji exhaustion about him. On the contrary, as the hour grew later, and thi; ]ialu yroy of morning began to mingle with the glare of wax-liglits, the vigour of his performance only increased, and several new steps were displayed, which, like a prudent general, he seemed to have kept in reserve for the end of tlie engagement. And what a sad thing is a ball as it draws towards the close ! What an emblem of life at a similar period ! How much freshness has faded! how much of beauty has passed away ! how many illusions are dissipated ! how many dreams, the lanij) light and chalk floors have called into life, fly like spirits with the first beam of sunlight ! The eye of proud bearing is humbled uow ! the cheek, whose downy softness no painter could have copied, looks pale, and wan, and haggard : the beaming looks, the graceful bearing, the elastic step, where are they ? Only to be found where youth — bright, joyous, and elastic youth — unites itself to beauty. Such were my thoughts as the dancers flew past — and many whom I had remarked at the beginning of the evening as handsome and attractive, seemed now without a trace of either — when suddenly Louisa Bellew came by, her step as light, her every gesture as graceful, her cheek as blooming, and her liquid eye as deeply beaming as when first I saw her. The excitement of the dance had slightly flushed her face, and heightened the expression its ever-varying emotions lent it. Handsome as I before had thouglit her, there was a look of pride about her now that made her lovely to my eyes. As I continued to gaze after her, I did not perceive for some time that the guests were rapidly taking their leave, and already the rooms were greatly thinned. Every moment now, however, bore evidence of the fact : the unceasing roll of carriages to the door, the clank of the steps, the reiterated cry to drive on, followed by the call for the next carriage, all betokened departure. Now and then, too, some cloaked and hooded figure would appear at the door of the drawing-room, peering anxiuusly about for a daugliter, a sister, or a friend who still lingered in the dance, averring it " was impossible to go, that she was engaged for another set." The disconsolate gestures, the impatient menaces of the shawled spectres —for, in truth, they seemed hke creatures of another world come back to look upon the life they left — are of no avail : the seductions of the " major " are stronger than the frowns of mamma, and though a rowing may come in the morning, she is resolved to have a reel at night. An increased noise and tumult below stairs at the same moment informed me that the supj^er-party were at length about to separate. I started up at once, wishing to see i\Iiss Bellew again ere I took my leave, when O'Grady seized me by the arm and hurried me away. "Come along, Hiuton: not a moment to lose; the duke is going." 74 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " Wait an instant," said I, " I wish to speak to- " Another time, my dear fellow; another time. The duke is delighted with the Eooneys, and we are going to have Paul knighted ! '' With these words he dragged me along, dashing down the stairs like a madman. As we reached the door of the dining- room we found his grace, who, with one hand on Lord Dudley's shoulder, was endeavouring to steady himself by the other. " I say, O'Grady, is that you ? Very powerful burgundy this It's not possible it can be morning ! " " Yes, your grace, half-past seven o'clock." " Indeed, upon my word, your friends are very charming people. What did you say about knighting some one ? Oh ! I remember : Mr. Rooney, wasn't it ? Of course, nothing could be better ! " " Come, Hinton, have you got a sword ? " said O'Grady, " I've mislaid mine somehow. There, that'll do. Let us try and find Paul now." Into the supper-room we rushed : but what a change was there! The brilliant tables, resplendent with gold plate, candelabras, and flowers, were now despoiled and dismantled. On the floor, among broken glasses, cracked decanters, pyramids of jelly, and pagodas of blanc mange, lay scattered in every attitude the sleeping figures of the late guests. Mrs. Rooney alone maintained her position, seated in a large chair, her eyes closed, a smile of elysian happiness playing upon her lips. Her right arm hung gracefully over the side of the chair, where lately his grace had kissed her hand at parting : overcome, in all probability, by the more than human happiness of such a moment, she had sunk into slumber, and was murmuring in her dreams such short and broken phrases as the following: — "Ah ! happy day What will Mrs. Tait say? The lord ma3'or, indeed! Oh ! my poor head: I hope it won't be turned ■ Holy Agatha, pray for us! your grace pvay for us ! Isn't he a beautiful man ? hasn't he the darling white teeth ? " "Where's Paul?" said O'Grady, '" where's Paul, Mrs. Rooney? " as he jogged her rather rudely by the arm. " Ah ! who cares for Paul ? " said she, still sleeping : " don't be bothering me about the like of him." " Egad ! this is conjugal, at any rate," said Phil. '' I have him ! " cried I, " here he is ! " as I stumbled over a short, thick figure, who was j-jropped up in a corner of the room. There he sat, his head sunk upon his bosom, his hands listlessly resting on the floor. A large jug stood beside bim, in the concoction of whose contents ho appeared to have spent the last moments of his waking state. We shook him, and called him by his name, but to no purpose ; and, as we lifted up his head, we burst out a-laughing at the droll expression of JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 75 his face ; for he had fallen asleep in the act of squeezing a lemon in Ins teeth, the half of which not only remained there still, but inii'arted to his features the twisted and contorted expression that act suggests. '* Are you comincr, O'Grady ? " cried the duke impatiently. " Yes, ray lord," cried Piiil, as he rushed towards the doer "This is too bud. Hintoii : that confounded fellow could not possibly be moved ; I'll try and carry him." As he spoke, he hurried bade towards the sleeping figure of Mr. Hoouey, while I made towards the duke. As Lord Dudley hiid gone to order up the carriages, his grace was standing alone at the foot of the stairs, leaning his back against the bannisters, his eyes opening and shutting alternately as his head nodded every now and then forward, overcome by sleep and the wine he luid drunk. I'Jxactly in front of him, Itut crouching in the attitude of an Indian monster, sat Corny Delany. To keep himself from the cold, he had wrapped him- self up in his master's cloak, and tlie only part of his face per- ceptible was the little wrinkled forehead, and the malicious- looking hery eyes beneath it, firmly Hxed on the duke'a countenance. '• Give me your sword,"' said his grace, turning to me, in a tone half sleeping, half commanding; "give inc your sword, sir." Drawing it from the scabbard, I presented it respectfully. '• Stand a little on one side, Hinton. ^yllel■e is he? Ah ! quite right. Kneel down, sir ; kneel down, I say ! " Tliese words, addressed to Corny, produced no other movement in hitii than a slight change in his attitude, to enable him to extend his expanded hand above his eyes, and take a clearer view of the duke. " Does he hear me, Hinton ? Do you hear me, sir ? " " Do you hear his grace ? " said I, endeavouring with a sharp kick of my foot to assist his perceptions. " To be sure I hear him," said Corny ; '■ why wouldn't I hear him ? * "Kneel down, then," said I. " Devil a bit of me'll kneel down. Don't I know what he's after well enough ? Ach ma bocJclish ! Sorrow else he ever does nor make fun of people." " Kneel down, sir ! " said his grace, in an accent there was no refusing to obey. '' What is your name ? " " O murther ! heavenly Joseph ! " cried Corny, as I hurh^d him down upon his knees, " that I'd ever live to see the day ! " " What 16 his d d name ? " said the duke, passionately. " Corny, your grace. Corny Delany.'' " There, that'll do," as with a hearty slap of the sword, not 76 7-^<^^' HTNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. on liis shoulder, but on his bullet head, he cried out, " Eise, Sir Corny Delany ! " " dch, the devil a one of me will ever get up out of this same s]i«t. O wirra, wirra ! ho\7 will I ever show myself again after tills disgrace? " Leaving Corny to his lamentations, the duke walked towards the door. Here above a hundred people were now assembled, their curiosity excited in no small degree by a picket of light dragoons, who occupied the middle of the street, and were lying upon the ground, or leaning on their saddles, in all the wearied attitudes of a night watch. In fact, the duke had forgotten to dismiss his guard of honour, who had accompanied him to the theatre, and thus had spent the dark hours of the night keeping watch and ward over the proud dwoUing of the Rooneys. A dark frown settled on the duke's features as he perceived the mistake, and muttered between his teeth, " How they will talk of this in England ! " The next moment, bursting into a hearty fit of laughter, he stepped into the carriage, and amid a loud cheer from the mob, by whom he was recognized, drove rapidly away. Seated beside his grace, I saw nothing more of O'Grady, whose efforts to ennoble the worthy attorney only exposed him to the risk of a black eye; for no sooner did Paul perceive that he was undergoing rough treatment than he immediately re.sisted, and gave open battle. O'Grady acc:)rdingly left him, to seek his home on foot, followed by Corny, whose cries and heart-rending exclamations induced a consicerable crowd of well-disposed citizens to accom- pany them to the Castle gate, and thus ended the great Rooney ball. CHAPTER XI. A N 33 G O C I A T T N. From what I hn^o already stated, it may be inTerred that my acquaintance with the Rooneys was begun under favourable auspices : indeed, from the evening of the ball the house was open to me at all hours, and, as the hour of luncheon was known to every lounger about town, by dropping in about three o'clock one was sure to hear all the chit-chat and gossip of the day. All the dinners and duels of the caj)ital, all its rows and runaway matches were there discussed, while future parties of pleasure were planned and decided on, the Rooney equipages, horses, servants, and cellar being looked upon as common property, the JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. j-j appropriation of which was to be determined on by a vole of the majority. At all these domestic parliaments ()'(irady played a prominent part; he was the speaker and the whipper- in; he led for both the [government and the opposition : in fact, since the ever-memorable visit of the viceroy his power in the house was absolute. How completely they obeyed, and how implicitly they followed him, may be guessed, when I say that he even persuaded Mrs. Rooney herself not only to abstain from all triumph on the subject of their illustrious guest, but actually to maintain a kind of diplomatic silence on the subject; so that many simple-minded people began to suspect his grace had never been there at all, and that poor Mrs. Roone}^ having ilctected tlie imposition, prudently held her tongue, and said nothing about the matter. As this influence might strike my readei' as somewhat difficult in its exercise, and also as it presents a fair specimen of my friend's ingenuit}'-, I cannot forbear mentioning the secret of its success. When the duke awoke late in the afternoon that followed Mrs. Rooney's ball, his first impression was one bordering on irritation with O'Grady. Ilis quick-sightedness enabled him at once to see how completely he had fallen into the trap of his worthy aide-de-camp; and althongh he had confessedly spent a very pleasant evening, and laughed a great deal, now that all was over, he would have preferred if the whole affair could be quietly consigned to oblivion, or only remembered as a good joke for after dinner. The scandal and the cchit it must cause in the caj)ital annoyed him considerably, and he knew that before a day passed over, the incident of the guard of honour lying in bivouac around their horses would furnish matter for every caricature-shop in the capital. Ordering O'Grady to his presence, and with a severity of manner in a great degree assumed, he directed him to remedy, as far as might be, the consequences of this blunder, and either contrive to give a totally different version of the occurrence, or else by originating some new subject of scandal to eclipse the memor}^ of this unfortunate evening. O'Grad}' promised and i)ledged himself to everything; vowed that he would give such a turn to the affair that nobody would ever believe a word of the story ; assured the duke (God forgive him) that, liowever ridiculous the Rooneys at night, by 6.,xy they were models of discretion ; and at length took his leave to put his scheme into execution, heartily glad to discover that his grace had forgotten all about Corny and the kniglithooJ, the recollection of which might have been attended with very grave results to himself. So much for his interview with the duke. Now for his diplomacy with Mrs. Rooney ! It was about live o'clock on the 78 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. following day when O'Grady cantered up to the door : giving his horse to his groom, he dashed boldly upstairs, passed through the antechamber and the drawing-room, and, tapping gently at the door of a little boudoir, opened it at the same moment and presented himself before Mrs. Paul. That amiable lady, reclining a la Princess O'Too'e, was gracefally disposed on a small sofa, regarding, with fixed attention, a little plaster bust of his grace which, with con- siderable taste and propriety, was dressed in a blue coat and bright buttons, with a star on the breast, a bit of sky-blue satin representing the ribbon of the bath ; nothing was forgotten and a taint attempt was even made to represent the colouring of the vice-regal nose, which I am bound to confess was not flattered in the model. " Ah ! captain, is it you ? '' said Mrs. Paul, with a kind of languishing condescension very different from her ordinary reception of a castle aide-de-camp. " How is his grace this morning ? " Drawing his chair beside her, Phil proceeded to reply to her questions, and assure her that, whatever her admiration for the duke, the feeling was perfectly mutual. " Egad," said he, "the thing may turn out very ill for me when the duchess finds out that it was all my doing. Speaking in confidence to you, my dear Mrs. Paul, I may confess that although without excejition she is the most kind, amiable, excellent soul breathing, yet she has one fault . We all have our faults." "Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Rooney as she threw down her eyes as though to say, that's very true, but you will not catch me tell- ing what mine is. "As I was observing, there never was a more estimable being, save in this one respect . You guess it : I see you " Ah ! the creature, she drinks ! " The captain found it not a little difficult to repress a burst of laughter at Mrs. Rooney's suggestion. He did so, however, and proceeded :—" No, my dear madam, you mistake: jealousy is her failing, and when I tell you this, and when I add, that unhappily for her the events of last night may only afford but too much cause, you will comprehend the embarrassment of my present position." Having said thus much he walked the room for several minutes as if sunk in meditation, while he left Mrs. Kooney to ruminate over an announcement, tlie bare possibility of which was ccstacy itself. To be the rival of a peeress ; that peeress a duchess ; that duchess the lady of the viceroy ! These were high thoughts indeed. AVhat would Mrs. Riley say now ? How would the Maloncys look ■ — ? Wouldn't Father Glynn be proud to meet her at the door of Lifi'ey-street chapel in f-\U JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 79 pontificals as she drove up, wlio knows but with a giianl of honour beside lier. Kunuiiiff on in this way, slie liad actually got so far as to bo discussing with herscll" what was to be done with Paul ; not that her allegiance was shaken towai-ds that excellent individual — not a sinf,de unworthy thought crossed her mind; far from it, poor Mrs. Itooney was purity herself : she merely dreamt of those outward manifestations of the viceroy's preference, which were to procure for her consideration in tlie world, a position in society, and those attentions from the hands of the great, and the titled, which she esteemed at higher price than the real gifts of health, wealth, and beauty, so bounteously bestowed upon her by Providence. She had come then to that difficult point in her mind as to what was to be done with Paul : what peculiar course of training could he be submitted to, to make him more presentable in the world ; how were they to break him off whiskey-and-water and small jokes? Ah ! thought she, it's ver}" hard to make a real gentleman out of such materials as gros^'- and drab gaiters, wlieu suddenly O'Grady wiping his forehead with his handkerchief, and then flourishing it theatrically in the air, exclaimed — " Yes, ]\Irs. Rooney, everytliing depends on you. His grace's visit — I have just been with him talking the whole thing over — must be kept a profound secret. If it ever reach the ears of the duchess we are ruined and undone." Here was a total overthrow to all Mrs. Paul's speculations. Here was a beautiful castle uprooted from its very foundation : all her triumph, all her vaunted superiority over her city acquaintance was vanishing like a mirage before her. What was the use of his coming alter all ? what was the good of it, if not to be si)oken of, if not talked over at tea, written of in notes, discussed at dinner, and displayed in the morning papers ? Already was her brow contracted, and a slight flush of her cheek showed the wily captain that resistance was in preparation. "I know, my dear Mrs. Paul, how gratifying it would be for even the lushest of the land to speak of his grace's condescen- sion in such terms as you might speak; but then, after all, how very fleeting such a triumph ! Many would shrug their shoulders, and not believe the story. Some of those wh(\ believed would endeavour to account for it as a joke: one of those odd wild fancies the duke is ever so fond of" — here she reddened deeply. " In fact, the malevolence and the envy of the world will give a thousand turns to the circumstance ; besides that, after all, they would seem to have some reason on their side ; for the j>ublicity of the afTair must for ever prevent a repetition of the visit: whereas, on the other side, by a little discretion, by guarding our own secret" — here Phil looked knowingly in her eyes, as though to say they had one — "not only will the duke be delighted to continue his intimacy, 8o JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. but from the absence of all mention of the matter, all display on the subject, the world will be ten times more disposed to give credence to the fact that if it were paragraphed in every newspaper in the kingdom." This was hitting the nail on the head with a vengeance. Here was a picture ; here a vision of happiness ! Only to think of the duke dropping in, as a body might say, to take his bit of dinner, or his dish of tea in theevening, just in a quiet, homely, family way. Sha thought she saw him sitting with his feet on tlie fender, talking about the king and the queen, and the rest of the royal family, just as he would of herself and Paul, and lier eyes involuntarily turned towards the little bust, and two ronnd full tears of pure joy trickled slowly down her cheeks. Yielding, at length, to these and similar arguments, Mrs. Eooney gave in her adhesion, and a treaty was arranged and iigreed upon between the High Contracting Parties, which ran somewhat to this effect : — In the first place, for the enjoyment of certain advantages to be hereafter more fully set forth, the lady was bound to main- tain in all large companies, balls, dinners, drums, and dcjciuicrg, a rigid silence regarding the duke's visit to her house, never speaking of, nor alluding to it, in any manner whatever, and, in fact, conducting herself in all respects as if such a thing had never taken pUice. Secondly, she was forbid from making any direct inquiries in public respecting the health of the duke or the duchess, or exercising any overt act of personal interest in these exalted individuuls. Thn-dly, so long as Mrs. Eooney strictly maintained the terms ot the covenant, nothing in the foregoing was to preclude her from certain other privileges : viz , bhishing deeply when the duke's name was mentioned, throwing down her eyes, gently clasping her hands, and even occasionally proceedinij to a sigh ; neither was she interdicted from regarding any portion of her domicile as particularly sacred in consequence of its; viceregal associations. A certain arm-chair might be selected for peculiar honours, and preserved inviolate, &c. And lastly, nevertheless notwithstanding that in all large assemblies Mrs. Eooney was to conduct herself with the reserve and restrictions aforesaid, yet in smaM reunions de famille — this O'Grady purposely inserted in French, for, as Mrs. Paul could not confess her ignorance of that language, the interpretation must rest with himself — she was to enjoy a perfect liberty of detailing his grace's advent, entering into all its details, dis- cussing, explaining, expatiating, inquiring with a most minute particularity concerning his health and habits, and, in a word, conduct herself in all respects, to use her own expressive phrase, " as if they were thick since they were babies." JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 8i Armcil with tliis precious document, formally signed and Bealtd by botli purticH, O'Grady took his leave ot Mrs. Ilnotiey — not, indeed, in his usual free-and-easy manner, but with the reppectful and decorous reserve of one addressing a favourite near the throne. Kothing could be more perfect than Phil's JjrofoniHl obeisance, except jierhaps the queenly demeanour of kirs. Kooney herself; lor, witli the ready tact of a woman, she caught up in a moment the altered jdiase of her position, and in the rftlectivc light of O'Grady's manner she learnt to appre- ciate her own brilliancy. "From this day lorward," muttered O'Grady, as he closed the door behind him and hurried down stairs — " from this day lorward she'll be greater than ever. ITeaven help the lady mayoress that ventures to shake hands with her, and the attorney's wife will be a bold woman that asks her to a tea- jnirty henceforth." ^^'ith these words he threw himself upon his horse and cantered ofl' towanls the park to inform the duke that all was hnjipily concluded, and amuse him with a sight of the great iiuoiiey treaty which he well knew would throw the viceroy into convul- sions of laughter CHAPTER XII. A WAGER. In a few weeks after the events I have mentioned, the duke left Ireland to resume his parliamentary duties in the House of Lords, where some measure of considerable importance was at that time under discussion. Into the hands of the lords justices, therefore, the government od interim was delivered ; while upon !Mrs. Paul Rooney devolved the more pleasing task of becoming the leader of fashicm, the head and fountain of all the gaieties and amusements of the capital. Indeed, O'Grady half hinted that his grace relied upon her to supply his loss, which mani- festation of his esteem, so perfectly in accordance with her own wishes, she did not long hesitate to profit by. Had a stranger, on his first arrival in Dublin, passed along that ))art of Stephen's Green in which the " Hotel Rooney," as it was familiarly called, was situated, he could not have avoided being struck, not only with the appearance of the house itself, but with that of the strange and incongruous assembly of all ranks and conditions of men that lounged about its door. Tho house, large and spacious, with its windows of plate glass, ita 82 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDS ATA N. Venetian blinds, its gaudily gilt and painted balcony, and its massive brass kaocker, betrayed a certain air of pretension, standing as it did among the more sombre- looking mansions where the real rank of the country resided. Clean windows and a bright knocker, however— distinctive features as they were in the metropolis of those days, — would not have arrested the attention of the passing traveller to the extent I have sup- posed, but that there were other signs and sights than these. At the open hall-door, to which you ascended by a flight of granite steps, lounged some half-dozen servants in powdered heads and gaudy liveries— the venerable porter in his leather chair, the ruddy coachman iu his full-bottomed wig, tall footnu n with bouquets in their button-holes, were here to be seen reading the morning papers, or leisurely strolling to the steps to take a look at the weather, and cast a supercilious glance at the insignificant tide of population that flowed on beneath them ; a lazy and an idle race, they toiled not, neither did they spin, and I sincerely trust that Solomon's costume bore no resem blance to theirs. More immediately in front of the house stood a mixed society of idlers, beggars, horseboys, and grooms, assembled there from motives of curiosity or gain. Indeed, the rich odour of savoury viands that issued from the open kitchen- windows and ascended through the area to the nostrils of those without, might in its appetizing steam have brought the dew upon the lips of greater gourmands than they were. Aii that French cookery could suggest ti impart variety to tht separate meals of breakfast, luncheon, dinner, and supper, her-> went forward unceasingly ; and the beggars who thronged around the bars, and were fed with the crumbs from the rich man's table, became by degrees so habituated to the delicacies and refinements of good living, that they would have turned up their noses with contempt at the humble and more homely fare of the respectable shopkeeper. Truly, it was a strange picture to ser> these poor and ragged men as they sat in groups upon the step? and on thebare tlagway, exposed to every wind of heaven, the drifting rainspaking through their frail and threadbare gar- ments, yet criticising, with practised acumen, the savoury food before them. Consommes, ragouts, pates, potages, jellies, with an infinity of that smaller grape-shot of epicurism with which fine tables are filled, all here met a fair and a candid appreciatior A little further otf, and towards the middle of the street, stood another order of beings, who, with separate and peculiar privileger maintained themselves as a class apart: these were the hors''- boys, half-naked urchins, whose ages varied from eight to four- teen — but whose looks of mingled cunning and drollery would dpfy any guess as to their time of life — here sported in all the will untrammelled liberty of African savages: the only art they practised was to lead up and down the horsea of the yACK HJN70N, THE GUARDSMAN. 83 various visitors whom the many attractions of the hotel llooncy brought daily to the house ; and here you saw the proud and Eamiierod steed, with fiery eye and swelling nostrils, led about y this anibuhitiiiLj mass of ratjs and jiovcrly, wliose brifjht eye wapdeicd ever from his own tattered lial>iHments to the gorgeous trappings and gold embroidery of the sleek charger beside him. In tlic midt-t of these, such as were not yet employed, amused themselves by cutting summersets, standing on their heads, walking crab-fashion, and other classical performances, which form the little distractions of life for this strange sect. Jaunting-cars there were too, whose numerous fastenings of ropo and cordage, looked as though they were taken to pieces every night and put together in the morning ; while the horse, a care-worn and misanthropic-looking beast, would turn his head sideways over the shalt to give a glance of compassionat- ing scorn at the i'ollies and vanities of a world he was sick of. Not so the driver : equally low in condition, and fully as ragged in coat, the droll spirit that made his birthright, wan, with him, a lamp that neither poverty nor penury could quench. Ever ready with his joke, never backward with his repartee, prejiared to comfort you by assurances of the strength of his car and the goodness of his horse, while his own laughing look gave the lie to his very words, he would persuade you that with him alone there was safety, while it was a risk of life and limb to travel with his rivals. These formed the ordinary dramatis personce, while every now and then some tlashy equipage, with armorial bearings and showy liveries, would scatter the crowtl right and Ictt, sot the led horses lashing among the by-standers, and even break up the decorous conviviality of a dinner-party gracefully disposed upon the Hags. Curricles, tandems, tilburies, and dennets, were constantly arriving and departing. Members of Daly's with their green coats and buff waistcoats, whiskered dragoons, and plumed aides-de-camj), were all mixed u]) together, while on the open balcony an indiscriminate herd of loungers telegraphed the conversation from the drawing-room to the street, and thus all the bons tnots, all the jests, all the witticisms that went forward within doors, funntl also a laughing auditory without ; for it is a remarkable feature of this singular country, that there is no turn of expression whose raillery is too delicate, no repartee whose keenness is too fine, for the appreciation of tlie poorest and meanest creature that walk.s the street. Poor Paddy, if the more substantial favours of fortune be not your lot, nature has linked you by a strong sympathy with tastes, habits, and usages which, by some singular intuition, you seem thoroughly to comprehend. One cannot dwell long among them without feeling this, and witnessing how generally, how almost universally, poverty of condition and wealth of 84 JACK HiNrON, THE GUARDSMAN. intellect, go hand in hand together; and, as it is only over the bleak and barren surface of some fern- clad heath, the wild fire flashes through the gloom of night, so it would seem, the more brilliant fire-work of fancy would need a soil of poverty and privation to produce it. But, at length, to come back, the Kooneys now were installed as the great people of the capital; many of the ancien regime, who held out sturdily before, and who looked upon the worthy attorney in the light of an usarper, now gave in their allegiance, and regarded him as the true monarch ; what his great pro-_ totype effected by terror, he brought about by turtle; and, if Napoleon consolidated his empire and ]iropped his throne by the bayonets of the grand army, so did Mr. Rooney establish his claims to power by the more satisfactory arguments — which, appealing, not only to the head, but to the stomach, convince while they conciliate. You might criticise his courtesy, but you could not condemn his claret. You might dislike his manners, but you could not deny yourself his mutton. Besides, after all, matters took pretty much the same turn in Paris as in Dublin: public opinion ran strong in both cases : the mass of the world consists of those who receive benefits, and he who confers them deserves to be respected. We certainly thought so ; and among those of darker hue who frequented Mr. Rooney's table, three red coats might daily be seen, whose unchanged places, added to their indescribable air of at-horaeishne?s, bespoke them as the friends of the family. O'Grady, at Mrs. Rooney's right hand, did the honours of the soup ; Lord Dudley, at the otlier end of the table, supported Mr. Rooney, while to my lot Miss Bellew fell ; but, as our places at table never changed, there was nothing marked in my thus every day finding myself beside her, and resuming my place on our return to the drawing-room. To me, I confess, she formed the great attraction of the house : less imbued, than my friend O'Grady, with the spirit of fun. I could not have gone on from day to day to amuse myself with the eccentricities of the Rooneys, while I could not, on the other hand, have followed Lord Dudley's lead, and continued to receive the hospitalities of a house while I sneered at the pretensions of its owner. _ _ ,' Under any circumstances Louisa Bellew might be considered a very charming person ; but, contrasted with those by whom she was surrounded, her attractions were very great: indeed, her youth, her light-heartedness, and the buoyancy of her spirit, concealed to a great degree the sorrow it cost her to be associated with her present hosts ; for, although they were kind to her, and she felt and acknowledged their kindness, yet the humiliating sense of a position which exposed her to the insolent familiarity of the idle, the dissipated, or the underbred yjCK J/LXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 85 vititors of the house, f^radually impressed itself ii|)Oii her manner, and teinpered her mild and graceful natnre wi'.h a certain air of ]iai(t< nr and distance. A circumstance, slight in itself, but sufTiciently indicative of this, took jjlace some weeks after what 1 have mentioned. Lord Dndley de A''ere, who, from his rank and condition, was looked upon as a kind of privileged person in the Itooney family, sitting rather later than usual after dinner, and having drunk a great deal of wine, offered a wager that, on his appearance in the drawing-room, nut oiilv •woukl he propose for, but be accepted by, auy unmarried lady in the room. The puppyism and coxcombry of such a wager might have been pardoned, were it not that the character of tlie individual, when sober, was in jierfect accordance witli this drunken boast. The bet, which was for three hundred guineas, was at once taken np, and one of the party running hastily up to the drawing-room, obtained the names of the ladies there, which, being written on slijis of j)ai)er, wen; thrown into a hat, thus leaving chance to decide upon whom the happy lot was to fall. "Mark ye, Upton," cried Lord Dudley, as he prepared to draw forth his ])rize, "mark ye. I ilidti't say I'd marry her," " Xo, no," resounded from different jiarts of the room ; " we understand you perfectly." "My bet," continued he, " is this: I have booked it." "With these words he opened a small memorandum book and read forth the following paragraph : — " Three hundred with Upton that I don't ask and be accepted by any girl in Paul's drawing- room this evening, after tea. The choice to be decided by lottery. Isn't that it ? " " Yes, yes, quite right, perfectly correct," said several persons round the table. " Come, my Lord, here is the hat." " Shake them up well, Upton." " So here goes," said Herbert, as aflfectediy tucking up the sleeve of his coat, he inserted two fingers and drew forth a small piece of paper carefully folded in two. " I say, gentle- men, this is your affair ; it don't concern me." AVith these words he threw it carelessly on the table, and resuming his seat, leisurely filled his glass, and sipped his wine. " Come, read it, Blake ; read it up; who is she?" "Gently, lads, gently; ]>atience for one moment. IL)W are we to know if the wager be lost or won ? Is the lady herself to declare it ? " " Why if you like it; it is perfectly the same to me.'" " Weil then," rejoined Blake, " it "is ]\Iiss Bellew." No sooner was the mime read aloud, than, instead of the roar of laughter which it was expected would follow the announce- ment, a kind of awkward and constrained silence settled on the party. Mr. Eooney himself— who felt shocked beyond measure 86 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. at this result, had been so long habituated to regard himself as nothing at the head of his own table, accepting, not dictating, its laws — would, had he dared, have at once interfered to stay- any further proceedings. Many of those, too, around the table, who knew Sir Simon Bellew, and felt how unsuitable and inadmissible such a jest as this would be, if practised upon liis daughter, whispered among themselves a hope that the wager would be abandoned, and never thought of more by either party. " Yes, yes," said Upton, who was an officer in a dragoon regiment, and although of a high family and well connected, was yet very limited in his means. " Yes, yes, I quite agree. This foolery might be very good fun with some young ladies we know, but with Miss JBellew the circumstances are quite different ; and, for hiij part, I withdraw from the bet." " Eh— aw ! Pass down the claret, if you please. You witb- draw from the bet, then : that means you pay me tliree hundred guineas; ford — nme, if'Ido! No, no; lam not so young as that. I haven't lost fifteen thousand on the Derby without gaining some little insight into these matters— every bet is a p. p., if not stated to be the reverse. I leave it to any gentleman in the room." " Come, come, De Tere," said one, " listen to reason, my boy ! " ■'Yes, Dudley,'" cried another, "only think over the thing. You must see " " I only wish to see a check for three hundred. And I'll not be done." "Sn-!"said Upton, springing from his chair, as the blood mounted to his face and temples, " did you mean that expression to apply to me ? " " Sit down, Mr. Upton, for the love of heaven ! Sit down ; do, sir ; his lordship never meant it at all. See, now. I'll pay the money myself Give me a pen and ink. I'll give you a check on the bank this minute. What the devil signifies a trifle like that!" stammered out jwor Paul, as he wiped his forehead with his napkin, and looked the very picture of terror. "Yes, my lord and gentlemen of the jury, we agree to pay the whole costs of this suit." A perfect roar of laughter interrupted the worthy attorney, and as it ran from one end of the table to the other, seemed to promise a happier issue to this unpleasant discussion. " There now," said honest Paul, " the Lord be praised, it is all settled ! so let us have another cooper up, and then we'U join the ladies." "Then I understand it thus," said Lord Dudley; "you pay the money for Mr. Upton, and I may c4-ase the bet from my book." yACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 87 "No, sir!" cried Upton, passionately. "I jiay my own tvagers — and if you still insist " "No, no, no," cried several voices; while, at the same tiino, to put an end at once to any further disitute, the party suddenly rose to repair to the drawing-room. On ]iassinuj tliroufrh the hall, chance, or perhaps desitrn, on Lord Dudley's part, brou<,dit him beside Upton. "I wish you to understand, once more," said he, in a low whisper, '" thai I consider this bet to hold." " Be it so," was the brief reply, and they separated. O'Grady and myself having dined that day in tlie country, (inly arrived in the Kooneys' drawing room as the diiiner-] arty was entering it. Contrary to their wont, there was less of loud talking, less of n]iroarious and boisterous mirth, as iliej' came up the stairs, than usual. O'Grady renuiiktd this to \\\m liftcrwards. At the time, however, I paid but little attention to it. The fact was, my thoughts were principally running in another channel. Certain inuendoes of Lord J)udley de Yere, certain broad hints he had ventured upon e\en before Z\Irs. Rooney, had lett upon my mind a kind of vague, undecided impression that, .«omehow or other, I was regarded as their dupe. Miss Bellew'.s manner was certainly more cordial, more kind to me tlian to any of tbe otliers who visited the house. The Rooneys themselves omitted notbing to humour my ca.prices, and indulge my fancies ; afibrding me, at all times, opportunities of being alone with Louisa ; joining in her walks, and accompanying her on horseback. Could there be anything .■nail this? Was this the quarter ia which the mine was to explode ? This painful doubt lianging upon my mind I entered the drawing-room. The drawing-room of 42, Stephen's Green, had often afforded me an amusing study. Its strange confusion of ranks and classes; its mchnir/e of lordly loungers and city beauties; the discordant tone of conversation, where each person discussed ihe very thing he knew least of; the blooming daugtiters of a lady mayoress talking '• fashion and the musical glasses; '' while tli(^ witless scion of a noble house was endeavouring to pass himself as a sayer of good things. These new, however, afforded me neither interest nor pleasure : bent solely upon one thought, eager alone to ascertain how far Louisa Bellew's marmer towards me was the fruit of artifice, or the offspring of an artless and unsus))ecting mind, I left O'Grady to entertain a whole circle of turbaned ladies, while I dii-eeted my course towards the little boudoir where Louisa usually sat. In a house where laxity of etiquette and a freedom of manner prevailed to the extent I have mentioned, IMiss Bellew's more cautions and reserved demeanour was anything but popular; and, as there was no lack of beauty, men found it more suitable 88 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. to theii- lounging and indolent habits, to engage those in con- versation who were less " exigeante " in their demands for amusement, and were equally merry themselves, as mercifully disposed when the mirth became not only easy but free. Miss Bellew, therefore, was permitted to indulge many of her tastes unmolested; and, as one of these was, to work at embroidery in the small room in question, few persons intruded themselves upon her; and even they but for a short time, as if merely paying their required homage to a member of the family. As I approached the door of the boudoir, my surprise was not a little to hear Lord Dudley de Vere's voice, the tones of which, though evidently subdued by design, had a clear distinctness that made them perfectly audible where I stood. " Eh ! you can't mean it, though. Ton my soul, it is too bad ! — You know I shall lose my money if you persist." "I trust Lord Dudley de Vere is too much of a gentleman to make my unprotected position in this house the subject of an insolent wager ; I'm sure nothing in my manner could ever have given encouragement to such a libert3^" "There now; I knew you didn't vmderstand it. The whole thing was a chance; the odds were at least eighteen to one against you : ha, ha ! I mean in your favour. Devilish good mistake that of mine. They were all shaken up in a hat. You see there was no collusion — could be none." " My lord, this impertinence becomes past enduring ; and if you persist " "Well, then, why not enter into the joke ? It'll be a devijidh expensive one to me if you don't; that I promise you. AVhat a confounded fool I was not to draw out when Upton wished it! D— n it! I ought to have known there is no trusting to a woman." As he said this, he walked twice or thrice hurriedly to and fro, muttering as he wont, with ill suppressed passion, ''Laughed at, d— n me! that I shall be, all over tlie kingdom. To lose the money is bad enough ; but the ridicule of the thing, that's the devil! Stay, Miss Bellew, s'op one minute : I have another proposition to make. Begad, I see nothing else for it. This, you know, was all a humbug; mere joke, nothing more. Now, I can't stand the way I shall be quizzed about it at all. So, here goes ! hang me. if I don't make the proposition in real earnest! There, now, say yes at once, and we'll see if I can't turn the lau-rh against them." There was a pause for an instant, ai d then Miss Belle ^ spoke. I would have given worlds to have seen her at that moment; but the tone of her voice, firm and unshaken, sank deep into my heart. " My lord," said she, " this must now cease ; but, as yout lordship is fond of a wager, I have one for your acceptance, JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 8q The sum shall be your own choosing. Whatever it be, I stake it freely, that, as 1 walk from this room, the first gentleman I meet — yon like a chance, my lord, and you shall have one — will cliaslise you before the world for your unworlh}', unmanly insult to a weak and unoffending girl." As she spoke, she sprang from the room, her eyes flashing with indignant fire, while her cheek, pale as death, and her heaving throat, attested how deep was her passion. As she turned the corner of the door, her eyes met mine. In an instant the truth flashed upon her mind. She knew I had overheard all that passed: she gasped painfully for breath; her lips moved with scarce a sound ; a violent trembling shook her from head to foot, and she fell fainting to the ground. I followed her with my eyes as they bore her from the room ; and then, without a thought for anything around me, I hurriedly left the room, dashed downstairs, and hastened to my quarters in the Castle. CHAPTER XIII. A NIGHT OF TROUBLE. Until the moment when I reached the room and threw myself into a chair ly course respecting Lord Dudley de Vere seemed to ])resent not a single difficulty. The appeal so unconsciously- made to me by Miss Bellew, not less than my own ardent incli- nation, decided me on calling him out. No sooner, however, did calm reflection succeed to the passionate excitement of the moment, than at once I perceived the nicety of my position. Under what possible pretext could I avow myself as her cham- pion, not as of her own choosing ? for I knew perfectly well that the words she uttered were merely intended as a menace, with- out the slightest idea of being acted on. To sutler her name, therefore, to transpire in the affair would be to compromise hei in the face of the world. Again, the confusion and terror she cvmced, when she beheld me at the door proved to me that, perhaps of all others, I was the la.st person she would have wislied to have been a witness to the interview. "What was to be done 'i The very difficulty of the affair only made my deter- mination to go through with it the stronger. I have already said my inclination also prompted me to this cour.^e. Lord Dudley's manner to me, without being such as I could make a plea for resenting, had ever been of a supercilious and almost f)o JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. offensive character. If there be anything which more deeply tlian another wounds our self-esteem, it is the assumed superiority of those whom we heartily despise. More than once he ventui-ed upon hinting at the plans of the Rooneys respecting me. suggesting that their civilities only concealed a deeper object ; and all this he did with a tone of half insolence that irritated me ten times more than an open affront. Often and often had I promised myself that a day of retri- bution must come. Again and again did I lay this comfort to my heart,^ — that, one time or other, his habitual prudence would desert him ; that his transgression would exceed the nar row line that separates an impertinent freedom from an insult, and then . Now. this time had come at last. Such a chance miglitnot again present itself, and must not be thrown away. My reasonings had come to this point, when a tremendous knocking at my door, and a loud shout of '" Jack ! Jack Hmton ! " announced O'Grady. This was fortunate. He was the only man whom 1 knew well enough to consult in such a matter; and of all others, he was the one on whose advice and counsel I could place implicit reliance. " What the deuce is all this, my dear Hinton ?" said he, as he grasped my hand in both of his. "I was playing whist with the tabbies wlien it occurred, and saw nothing of the whole matter. She fainted, didn't she ? What the deuce could you have said or done ? " " Could I have said or done ! What do you mean O'Grady ? " " Come, come, be frank with me ; what was it ? If you are in a scrape, I am not the man to leave 3^ou in it." " First of all," said I, assuming with all my might a forced and simulated composure, " first of all, tell me Avhat you heard in the drawing-room." " What I heard ? Egad, it was plain enough. In tlie beginning, a young lady came souse down upon the floor ; screams and smelling bottles followed; a general running hither and thither, in which confusion, by the bye, our adversaries contrived to manage a new deal, though I had four by honours in my hand. — Old Miss Macan upset my markers, drank my negus, and then fainted off herself, v.'ith a face like an"apothecary's rose." " Yes, yes ; but," said 1 impatiently, " what of INIiss Bellew r" "What of her! that yon must know best. You know, of course, what occurred between you." "My dear O'Grady,'' said 1, with passionate eagerness, "do be explicit. AVliat did they say in the drawing-room ? Wliat turn has been given to this affair .P " " Taith I can't tell you ; I am as much in the dark as my neighbours. After the lady was carried out and you ran away, they all began talking it over. Some said you had been pro- posin<; an elopement; others said you hadn't. The Rileys JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 91 Bwore you had asked to have your jMcture back a^ain ; and old Mrs. Il.im, wlio had planted hcrsolf behind a curtain to over- hear all, Ibrj^ot, it Hcenis, that the window was open, and caught such a cold in her head, and such a deafness, that she heard nothing. She says, however, that yonr conduet was abominable; and in fact, my dear llinton, the whole thing is a puzzle to us all." "And Lord Dudley de Yere," said I, ''did he offer no ex- planation." " Oh yes, something pretty much in his usual style : pulloil up his stock, ran his fingers through his haw, and muttered some indistinct phrases about lovers' quarrels." " Capital !" exclaimed I with delight; "nothing could be better, nothing more fortunate than this ! Kow, O'Urady, listen to my version of the matter, and then tell me how to proceed in it." I here detailed to my friend every circumstance that had occurred from the moment of my entering to my de- parture from the drawing-room." " As to the wager," said I, " what it was, when made, and with whom, I know not." " Yes, yes; I know all that." interrupted 0"Grady ; " I have the whole thing perfectly before me. Now let us see what is to be done ; and first of all, allow me to ring the bell for some sherry and water— that's the head and front of a consultation." When O'Grady had mixed his glass, sipped, corrected, and sipped again, he beat the bars of the grate a few moments con- templatively with the poker, and then turning to me, gravely said, " we must parade him. Jack, that's certain. Now for the how. Our friend Dudley is not much given to fighting, and it will be rather difficult to obtain his consent. Indeed if it had not been for the insinuation he threw out, after you had left the room, I don't well ?oe how you could jiush him to it." "Why, my dear O'Grady, wasn't there quite cause enough." '• Plenty, no doubt, my dear Jack, as far as feeling goes ; but there are innumerable cases in this life, which, like breaches of trust iu law, escape with slight punishment. Not but that, wdien you owe a man a grudge, you have it always in your po-.ver to make him sensible of it ; and among gentlemen there IS the same intuitive preception of a contemplated collision, as you see at a dinner party, when one felhnv juits his hand on a di'canter; his friend at the end of the table smiles, and cries, " with pleasure, my boy ! ' There is one thing, however, ill your favour." " What is that? " said I eagerly. '■ AVhy. he has lost his wager; that's pretty clear; and. as that won't improve his temper, it's possible — mind. 1 don't say more, but it's possible he may feel better disposed to turn his irritation into valour ; a much more common process in meta- 92 JACK H IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. physical chemistry than the world wots of. Under these cir- cumstances, the best thing to do, as it strikes me, is to try the cause, as our friend Paul would say, on the general issue : that is, to wait on Herbert ; tell him we wish to have a meeting; that, after what has passed, — that's a sweet phrase isn't it? and has got more gentlemen carried home on a door than any other I know, — that, after what has passed, the thing is unavoidable, and the sooner it comes off the better. He can't help referring me to a friend, and he can scarcely find anyone that won't see the thing with our eyes. It's quite clear Miss Bellew's name must be kept out of the matter; and now, my boy, if you agree with me, leave the whole affair in my hands, tumble into bed, and go to sleep as fast as you can." "I leave it all to you, Phil," said I, shaking his hand warmly, ■'and to prove my obedience, I'll be in bed in ten minutes." O'Grady finished the decanter of sherry, buttoned up his coat, and, slap])ing his boots with his cane, sauntered down stairs, whistling au Irish quick step as he went. " When I had half accomplished my undressing, I sat down before the fire, and, unconsciously to myself fell into a train of musing about my present condition. I was very 3'oung ; knew litlle of the world: the very character of my education had been so much under the eye and direction of my mother, that luy knowledge was even less than that of the generality of young men of my own time of life. It is not surprising, then, if the events which my new career hurried so rapidly one upon another, in some measure confused me. Of duelling I had, of course, heard rejieatedly, and had learnt to look upon the neces- sity of it as more or less imperative upon every man in the out- set of his career. Such was, in a great measure, the tone of the day ; and the man who attained a certain period of life, without having had at least one aftair of honour, was rather suspected of using a degree of prudent caution in his conduct with the world than of following the popular maxim of the period, which said, " Be always ready with the pistol." The affiiir with Lord George, therefore, I looked upon rather as a lucky hit; I might as well make my tUhnt with him as with any other. So much, then, for the prejudice of the period. Now for my private feelings on the subject, they were, I confess, anything but satisfactory : without at all entering into any anticipation I might have felt as to the final result, I could not avoid feeling ashamed of myself for my total ignorance about the whole matter; not only, as I have said, had I never seen a duel, l)ut 1 never had fired a pistol twice in my life. I was naturally a nervous fcillow, and the very idea of firing at a word, would, I knew, render me more so, my dn>ad that the ])ei;nliarity of my constitution might be construed into want of courage, increased my irritability; while I felt that my JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 93 etnlcnvoiir to acquit myself with all the etiquette and pniictilio of the occasion wotilj inevitably lead me to the commission of some mistake or ljlinKlt'r< And then, as to my friends at home, what would my father say? His notions on the suhject I knew were very ric:id, and only adiuittod the necessity of an appeal to arms as tlie very last resort: what account could I give him sufficiently satislac- tory, of my reasons for going out? How would my mother ice), with all her aristocratic prejudices, when she heard of the society where the alFair originated; when some glowing descrip- tion of the liooncys should reach her? and this some kind friend or other was certain to undertake; and, worse than all, L;idy Julia, my liigh-boru cousin, whose beauty and sarcasm liad inspired me with a mixture of admiration and dread. iluw should I ever bear the satirical turn she would give the wliole affair? her malice increased, as it would be by the fact that a young and pretty girl was mixed up in it ; for, somehow, I must confes.=!, a kind of half fhrtaliun luid always subsisted between my cousm and me. Her beauty, her wit, her fascmating manner, rendering me at times overhead and ears m love with her: while, at others, the indiffercnceof her manner towards me, or, still worse, the ridicule to which she exposed me, would brjak the spell and dissipate the enchantment. Thoughts like these were far from assuring mo, and contributed but little towards that confidence in myself I stood so much in need of; and, again, what if I were to fall? As this thought settled on my miud, I resolved to write home — not to my father, however : 1 felt a kind of constraint about unburtheniug myself to him at such a moment. IMy mother was ecpially out of the question : in fact, a letter to her could only be an apologetic narrative of my life in Ireland ; softening dov/n what she would call the atrocities of ray associates, and giving a kind of Eembrandt tint to the Eooueys, which might conceal the more vivid colouring of their vulgarity. At such a moment I had no heart lor this : such trifling would ill suit me now. To Lady Juli;i. then, I de- termined to write: she knew me well. Besides, I felt that, when I was no more, the kindlines.s of her nature would prevail, and she would remember me but as the little lover that brought lier hoiujuets from the conservatory; that wrote letters to her from Eton; that wore her picture round his neck at Sandhurst, and, by the bye, that picture I had still in my possession : this was the time to restore it. I opened my writing-desk and took it out. It was a strange love-gift, painted when she was barely ten years old. It represented a very lovely child, with blue eyes, and a straight regularity of feature, like a Grecian statue The intensity of Kiolc that after years developed more fully and the slight curl of the lip, that betrayed the incipient spirit of mockery, were both there : still was she very beautiful. I 94 yACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. placed the miniature before me, and fixed my eyes upon it, while, carried away by the illnsion of the moment, I burst into a rhapsody of proffered affection, while I vindicated mjrself against any imputation my intimacy with Miss Bellew might gfve rise to. As I proceeded, however, I discovered that my pleading scarce established my innocence even to myself: so I turned away, and once more sat down, moodily before the fire. The Oastlc clock struck two ; I started up, somewhat ashamed of myself at not having complied with O'Grrady's advice, and at once threw myself on my bed, and fell sound asleep. Some confused impression upon my mind, of a threatened calamity, gave a gloomy character to all my dreams : and more than once I awoke with a sudden start, and looked about me. The fiickenng and uncertain glare ot the dying embers threw strange and goblin shapes upon the wall, and on the old oak floor The window-curtams waved mournfully to and fro, as the sighing night wind pierced the openings of the worn casements, adding, by^ome unknown sympathy, to my gloom and depression ; and, although I quickly rallied myself from these foolish fancies. ;ind again sank into slumber, it was always again to %yake with the same unpleasant impressions, and with the sam.e sights and sounds about me. Towards morning at length 1 fell into a deep, unbroken sleep, from which I was awakened by the noise of someone rudely drawing my curtains. I looked up, as I rubbed my eyes; it was Corny Delany, who with a mahogany box under his arm, and a little bag in his hand, stood eyeing me with a look, in which his habitual ill temper was dashed with a slight mixture of scorn and pity. •* So you are awake at last ! " said he ; " faith and you sleep sound, and—." This he muttered between his teeth ;— " and maybe it's sounder you'll sleep to-morrow night ! The Captain bidme call you at seven o'clock, and it's near eight now. That bla-guard of a servant of yours wouldn't get up to open the door. till i made a cry of fire outside, and puffed a few mouthfuls of smoke through the key-hole !" " ^VeU done. Corny ! but where's the Captain ? " " Where is he ! sorrow one o' me knows ! maybe at the wntchhouse, maybe in George's- street barrack, maybe in fli." streets, maybe : och, troth ! there's many a place he might be, and good enough for hini any of them. Them's the tools, well oiled : I put flints in them." " And what have you got in the bag. Corny ? " i\raybe you'll see time enough. It's the lint, the sticking- plaster and"^the bandages, and the turn-an'twist." This, be it known, was the Delany for ' tournquet.' "And_ faith it's a quecT use to put the same bag to; his honour the judge had it made to carry his notes in. Ugh, ugh, ugh ; a bloody little bag y.lCK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAM 95 it always was ! !^^aT1y's tin* timo, I soon tlie poor crayturos, in the (lock liavi! to lioiiKl on liy the spikes, wlion they'd see him put his hands in it ! It's not lucky, the same bag ! Will you nave some brandy-and water, and a bit of dry toast ? It's what the Cai)tain always gives them the lirst time they go out. When they're used to it, a cup of chocolate with a spoonful of whisky is a fine thing for the liand." I could scarce restrain a smile at the notion of dieting a man for a duel, though, I confess, there seemed something excessively bloodthirsty about it. However, resolved to give Corny a favourable impression of my coolness, I said, " Let me have the chocolate and a couple of eggs." He gave a grin a demon might have envied, as he muttered to liimself, " He wants to try and die game, ugh, ugh." With these words he waddled out of the room to prepare my break- fast; his alacrity certaiidy increased by the circumstance in in which he was employed. No sooner was 1 alone than I open the pistol-case to examine the weapons ; they were, doubtless, good ones ; but a ruder, more ill-fashioned, clumsy pair it would be impossible to conceive. The stock, which extended nearly to the end of the barrel, was notched with groves foi" the lingers to fit in ; the whole ter- minating in an uncouth knob, inlaid with small pieces of silver, which at iirst I imagined were purely ornamental. On looking closer, however, I perceived that each of them contained a name and a date, with an ominous phrase beneath, which ran ihus : *' Killed ! " or thus : " Wounded ! " " Egad," thought I, "they are certainly the coolest people in ihe world in this island, and have the strangest notions withal of cheering a man s courage ! " It was growing late, mean- while; so that without further loss of time I .sprang out of bed, and set about dressing, lnfddling my papers and J ulia's portrait into my writing-desk. I threw into the tire a few letters, and was looking about my room lest anything should have escaped me, when suddenly the quick movement of horses' feet on the pavement beneath drew me to the window. As I looked out, 1 could just catch a glimpse of O'Grady's figure as he sprang from a high tandem; I then heard his foot as he mounted the stairs, and the next moment he was knocking at my door. " Holloa !" cried he, " by Jove I have had a night of it! Help me off witli the coat, Jack, and order breakiast, with any number of mutton chops you please; I never felt so voi-acious in my life. Early rising must be a bad thing for the health, if it makes a man's appetite so painful.'' While I was giving my necessary directions. O'Grady stirred up the fire, drew his chair close to it, and planting his feet ujion the fender, and expanding his hands before the blaze, called out. 96 JACK HIATON, THE GUARDSMAN. "Yes, yes, quite right, cold ham and a devilled drumstick by- all means : the mulled claret must have nothing out cloves and a slice of pine apple in it ; and, mind, don't let them fry the kidneys in champagne; they are fifty times better in moselle: ■we'll have the champagne au aatarel : there now, shut the door, there's a confounded current of air comes np that cold stair- case. So, come over, my boy ; let me give you all the news, and to begin : After I parted with you, I went over to De Vere's quarters, and heard that he had just changed his clothes and driven over to Clare-street; I followed immediately; but, as ill-luck would have it, he left that just five minutes before, with Watson of the Fifth, who lives in one of the hotels near ; this, you know, looked liked business, and, as they told nie they were to be back in half-an-hour, I cut into a rubber of whist with Darcy and the rest of them, where, what between losing heavil\\ and waiting for those fellows, I never got up till half-past four : when I did, minus Paul's check, all the loose cash about me, and a bill for one hundred and thirty to Vaughan. Pleasant, all that, wasn't it? Monk, who took my place, told me that Herbert and Watson were gone out together to the park, where I should certainly find them. Off then, I set for the Phoenix, and, just as I was entering the gate of the Lodge, a chaise covered with portmanteaus and hat-boxes drove past me : I had just time to catch a glimpse of De Vere's face as the light fell suddenly upon it; I turned as quickly as possible, and gave chase down Barrack street ; we fiew, he leading, and I endeavouring to keep up, but my poor hacK was so done up, between waiting at the club and the sharp drive, that I found we couldn't keep up the pace: fortunately, however, a string of coal cars blocked up Essex- bridge, upon which ray friend came to a check, and I also. I jumped out immediately, and running forward, just got up in the nick, as they were once more about to move forward. 'Ah, Dudley,' cried I, ' I've had a sharp run for it, but by good fortune have found you at last.' I wish you had seen his face as I said these words ; he leaned forward in the carriage, so as completely to prevent Watson, who was with him, over- hearing what passed." "'May I ask,' said he, endeavouring to get up a little of his habitual coolness; 'may I ask, what so very pressing has sent you in pursuit of me ?' '"Nothing which should cause your present uneasiness,' re- plied T, in a tone and a look he could not mistake. "'Eh— aw! don't take you exactly ; anything gone wrong?' "'You've a capital memory, my lord, when it suits you : pray call it to your aid for a few moments, and it will save us both a deal of trouble : my business with you is on the part of Mr Hinton, and I have to request you will, at once, refer me t"^ f* i'riend.' JACK HIATON, THE GUARDSMAN. 97 " ' Ell ! you want to Hfrht ? is that it ? I say, Watson, tliey want to make a quarrel out of that foolish affair I told you of.' " ' Is i\Iajor Watson your friend on this occasi )U, my lord? ' " 'No; oil no; that is, I didn't say— — I told Watson Iidw they walked into me for three hundred at KooiiL-y'a — must confess I deserved it riehly for dinint; araon^ such a set of fellows, and, as I have paid the money and cut tho whole concern, I don't see wliat more's expected of me.' " ' We have very little expectation, my lord, but a slight hope, that you'll not disgrace the cloth you wear, and the profession you follow.' " ' I say. Watson, do you think I ought to take notice of these words.'' ' " ' Would your lordship like them stronger ? ' "'One moment if you please. Captain O'Grady.' said Major AVatson, as, opening the door of the chaise, he sprang out. ' Lord Dudlc}-^ De Vere has detailed to me, and of course cor- rectly, the whole of his last night's proceedings. He has ex- ]iressed himself as ready and anxious to apologize to your friend for any otfence he may have given him, in fact, that their families are in some way connected, and any falling out would he a very unhappy thing between them; and, last of all, Lord Dudley has resigned his appointment as aide-de-camp, and re- solved on leavintr Ireland; in two hours more he will sail from this: so I trust, that under every circumstance, you will seethe propriety of not pressing the affair any further.' " ' With the apology .' " ' That of course,' said Watson. " ' I say,' cried Herbert ; ' we shall be late at the Pigeon-hoiise : it's half- past seven.' " AVatson whispered a few words into liis ear; he was silent for a second, and a slight crimson flush settled on his cheek. " ' It won't do for me if they talk of this afterwards ; but tell liiin I mean Ilintoii, that I am sorry, that is, I wish him to forgive.' "' There, there,' said I, im))atieutly. ' di-ive on, that is quit,e enough.' " The next moment the chaise was out of sight, and I leaned against the ballustrade of the bridge, with a sick feeling at my heart I never felt before. Vaughan came by at the moment with his tandem ; so I made him turn about and set me down ; and here I am, my boy. Now that my qualmishness has passed off. ready to eat you out of house and home, if the means would only present themselves." Here ended O'Grady's narrative, and as breakfast very shortly after made its appearance, our conversatieu dropped into broken disjointed sentences ; the burden of which, on his part, was that, although no man would deserve more graiitudo 98 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. from the household and the garrison generally, than myself, for being the means of exporting Lord George, yet that under every view of the case, all ettort should he made to prevent publicity, and stop the current of scandal such an event was calculated to give rise to in the city. "No fear of that I hojie," said I. " Every fear, my dear boy. We live in a village here: every man hears his friend's watch tick, and every lady knows what her neighbour paid for her paste diamonds. However, be com- forted, your reputation will scarcely stretch across the Channel; and one's notoriety must have strong claims before it pass the custom-house at Liverpool" " Well, that is something ; but hang it, O'Grady, I wish I had had' a shot at him.'' " Of course you do: nothing more natural, and at the samo time, if you care for the lady, nothing more malapropos. Do what you will, her name will be mixed up in the matter; but had it gone further she must have been deeply compromised be- tween you. You are too young. Jack, to understand much ot this ; but take my word for it Fight about your sister, your aunt, your maternal grand mother, if you like, but never for the girl you are about to marry. It mvolves a false position to both her and yourself: and now that I am giving advice, just give me another cutlet. I say, Corny, any hot potatoes ? " " Thim was hot awhile ago," said Corny, without taking his hands iVom his pockets. " Well it is pleasant to know even that. Put that pistol case back again. Ah ! there goes Vaughan ; I want a word with him." So saying, he sprang up, and hastened down stairs. _ " What did he say 1 was to do with the pistols ?" said Corny, as he polished the case with the ample cuff of his coat. "You are to put them by — we shan't want them this morning." And there is to be no dewil after all," said he with a most fiendish grin. " Ugh, ugh, didn't I know it. Ye's come from the wrong side of the wnUn- for that. It's little powder ye blaze, for all your talking." Taking out one of the pistols as be spoke, h?. examined the ock for a few minutes patiently, and then muttered to him- gelf_'< Wasn't 1 right to put in the ould flints ? The devil a more ye'd be doing I guessed nor making a flash in the i^an ! " It was rather difficulteven with every allowance for Mr.Delany's temper, to submit to his insolence patiently. After all there was nothing better to be done ; for Corny was even greater in ro])ly than attack, and any rejoinder on my part would un- uqestionably have made me fare the worse. _ Endeavouring, therefore, to hum a tune, I strolled to the window and looked JACK HTXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN, 05 out; wliilc tlie importurbable Corny, opening the opposite sash, equibbcil off both pistols previous to replacing thcrn iu the box. I cannot say what it was in the gesture and the action of th:s httle fiend; but somehow the air of absurdity thnsthrowu over our quarrel by this ludicrous termination hurt me deeply- and Corny's lace as he snapped the trigger, was a direct in- sult. All my self-respect, all my self-approval gave way in a moment, and I could thiuk of nothing but cross Corny'a commentary on my courage. '"Yes," said I, half aloud, ''it is a confounded country! If for nothing else, that every class and condition of man thinks himself capable to pronounce upon his neighbour. Hard drink and duelling are the national jjcnates; and Heaven help him who does not adopt the religion of the land ! My English .servant would as soon have thought of criticising a chorus of Euripides as my conduct; and yet this little wretch not only does so, but docs it to my face, superadding a sneer upon my country." Thi.'i, like many other of my early reflections on Ireland, had its grain of truth and its bu.shel of fallacy : and before I q.uittcd the land I learned to make the distinction. CHAPTER XIV. THE PARTING. FRo:^r motives of delicacy towards Miss Bellew I did not call that day at the Rooneys. For nany months such an omission on my ])art had never occurred. Accordingly, when O'Urady returned at night to the Castle, he laughingly told me that the house was m half mourning. Paul sat moodily over his wine, scarce lifting his liead. and looking what he himself called non- suited. Mrs. Paul, whose grief was always in the active mood, sobbed, hiccupped, gulped, and waved her arms as if she had lost a near relative. Miss Bellew did not appear at all, and Phil discovered that she iiad written home that morning, requesting her father to send for her without loss of time. '"L'he affair, as you see," contmued O'Grady, "has turned out ill for all parties. Dudley has lost his post, you your mistress, and I my money • a pretty good illustration how much mischief a mere fool can at any moment make 111 society."' It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when I mounted my horse to ride over to Stephen s Green. As I passed slowly along Dame-street my attention was called to a large jtlacard which, in front of a house opposite the lower Castls gate, had attracted a considerable crowd around it. I was cpared the 100 JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. necessity of stopping to read by the hoarse shout of a ragged ruffian who elbowed his way through the mob, carrying on one arm a raa?s of printed handbills, the other hand he held beside his mouth to aid the energy of his declamation. " Here's tlie full and true account," cried he, " ot the bloody and me-lan-cho-ly duel that tuk place yesterday morning in the Phaynix Park, between Lord Dudley de Vere and Mr. Hinton, two edge-du- congs to his Grace the Lord Liftinint, wid all the particulars, for one ha'penny." .^ 'Here's the whole correspondence between the Castle bucks," shouted a rival publisher,— the Colbuni to this Bentley,— " wid a beautiful new song to an old tune : " Bang it up, bang it up to the lady in the Green." " Give me one, if you please," said a motherly-looking woman, in a fjiay cloak. " No, ma'am, a penny," responded the vendor. " The bloody fight for a halfpenny !" " What ! " said he ; " would you have an Irish melody and the picture of an illigint female for a copper ? " " Smg us the song, Peter," called out another. " This 13 too bad! " said I, passionately, as driving the spurs into my horse, I dashed through the ragged mob, upsetting and overturning all before me. Not, however, before I was recognised, and, as I cantered down the street, a shout of derision, and a hail storm of offensive epithets followed me as I went. It was, I confess, some time before I recovered my equanimity enough to think of my visit. For myself, individually, I cared little or nothing ; but who could tell in what form these things might reach my friends in England? How garbled! how exaggerated ! how totally perverted ! — and then, too. Miss ]Bellew! It was evident "that she was alluded to. I trembled to think that her name, polluted by the lips of such wretches as these, should be cried through the dark alleys and purlieus of the capital ; a scoff and a mockery among the very outcasts of vice. As I turned the corner of Grafton-street a showy carriage with four grey horses passed me by. I knew it was the Rooney equipage, and although for a moment I was chagrined that the object of my visit was defeated, on second thoughts I satisfied myself that, perhaps, it was quite as well; so I rode on to leave my card. On reaching the door, from which already some visitors were turning away, I discovered that I had lorgotten my ticket-case: so I dismounted to write my name in the visiting-book; for this observance among great pcoi)le Mrs. Rooney had borrowed, to the manifest horror and dismay of many respectable citizens. JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. loi "A note for you, sir," said the butler, in his most silvery accent, as he placed a small sealed Ldlct in my hand. T. opened it hastily. It contained but twohnes; "Miss liulleiv Tequcsts J\lr. Iliaton will kindly favour ii'er with a tew mumeuts' con- versation at an early opportrnity."' " Is Miss JJellew at home ?'.'•.. " Yea. Pir," said the servant, who stood waiting to precede me upstairs, and announce me. '' Mr. liiiitDii," said the man; and the words echoed m the empty drawinif-roora, as he closed the door behind me: the next moment I heard the rustle (it a silk dress, and ]\Iiss Jiellew came out ot the boudoir and walked towards me. Contrary to her usual habit.— which was to hold out licr hand to me, — she now came timidly, hesitatingly forward ; her eyes downcast, and her whole air and appearance indicating, not only the traces of ."iorrow, but of phy.sical suflering. " Mr. Hinton," said she, in a voice every accent of which vibrated on my heart, " 1 have taken the liberty to ask a few moments' interview with you; for, although it is not only probable, but almost certain, we shall not meet again, yet 1 wish to explain certain portions of my conduct, and, indeed, to make them the reason of a favour I have to ask at your hands." " I'ermit me to interrupt you for a moment," said I. '• It is evident how painful the matter you would speak ot is to you : you have no need of explauation, least of all to me. By accident, 1 overheard tliat which, liowever high my esteem for Miss Bellew before, could but elevate her in my eyes. Pass then at once, I beseech you, to what you call a favour: there is no service you can seek for " " I thank you," replied she, in a voice scarcely articulate: " you have, indeed, spared me much in not asking me to speak of what it IS misery enough to remember ; but it is not the first time my unprotected position in this house has exposed me to outrage: though assuredly it shall be the last." The tone of indignation slie spoke in supplied her with energy, as she hurriedly continued; "Already, ]\Ir. Hinton, persons have dared to build a scandal upon the frail foundation of this insolent wager. — Your name has been mixed up with it in such a way that no possible intercourse could exist between us without being construed into evidence of a fal.sehood: therefore, I have made up my mind to ask you to discontinue your visits here, for the few days I may yet remain. I have already written home, the answer may arrive the day after to-morrow; and, while I feel that I but ill repay the hospitality and kindness I have received, and have met with, in closing the door to a most valued guest, I am assured you will understand and approve my motives, and not refuse me my request." I02 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. Delighted at the prospect of being in some way engaged in a service, I h^d listened with a, throbbing heart, up to the moment clie concluded." l^othing could so completely overthrow- all my hopes, as these last few words. Seeing my silence and my cenfusioQ-'-^or T kp.ew. not what to say — she added, in a slightly ;a;ennilou 13 voice-: — ■ . ■ "I am sorry, ]\Ir. Hinton,"that my little knowledge of the world should have led me into this indiscretion : I perceive from your manner that I have asked a sacrifice you are unwilling to make : I ought to have known that habits have their influence, as well as inclinations ; and that this house, being the resort of your friends " " Oh, how much, how cruelly you have mistaken me ! Not on this account, not for such reasons as you suppose did I hesitate in my reply ; far from it : indeed, the very cause which made me a frequent visitor of this house, is that which now renders me unable to answer you." A slight ilush upon her cheek and a tremulous motion of her lip, prevented my adding more. " Fear not. Miss Bellew," said I, " fear not from me ; however diSerent the feeling that would prompt it, no speech of mine shall cause you pain to listen to, however the buried thought may rack my own bosom. You shall have your request ; good bye." *' Nay, nay, not so," said she, as she raised her handkerchief to her eyes, and gave a soft but sickly smile ; " you musn't go wuhout my thanking you for all your kindness. It may so chance that one day or other you will visit the wild west : if so, ]3ray don't forget that my father, of whom you have heard me speak so much, would be but too luippy to thank one who has been so kind to his daughter; and, if that day should come," — here a slight gleam of animation shot across her features — " I beseech you not to think, from what you will see of me there, that I have forgotten all your good teaching, and all your lessons about London manner, though I sadly fear that neither my dress nor deportment will testify in my favour ; and so good bye." She drew her glove from her hand as she spoke. I raised the taper fingers, respectfully, to my lips, and, without venturing another look, muttered '"good bye," and lett the room. As step by step I loitered on the stairs, I struggled with myself against the rising temiitation to hurry back to her presence, and tell her that, although hitherto the fancied security of meeting her every day had made me a stranger id my own emotions, the hour of parting had dispelled the illusion : the thought of separation had unveilinl the depth of my heart, and told me that I loved her. Was this true ? It was. JACK HJNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 103 CHArTER XV. THE LKTTER FROM HOME. Fetonixg illness to O'Gracly as the reason of my not going to tbeRooneys, I kept my quarters for several days, during which time it required all my resolution to enable me to keep my promise ; and scarcely an hour of tlie day went over without my feeling tempted to mount my horse and try if, perchance, I could not cateh even a passing look at her once more. ]\Iis3 Bellew was the first woman who had ever treated me as a man : this, in itself, had a strong hold on my feelings ; for after all, what liattery i there so artful as that which invests us with a character to which we feel in our hearts our pretension is doubtful? "Why has college life, why has the army, such a claim upon our gratitude at our outset in the world ? Is it not the acknowledgement of our manhood ? and for the same reason the man who first accepts our bill, and the woman who first receives our addresses, have an unqualified right to our regard for evermore. It is the sense of what we seem to others that moulds and fashions us through life; and how many a character that seema graven in letters of adamant took its type, after all, from some chance or casual circumstance, some passing remark, some hazarded expression, ^\'e begin by simulating a part, and we end by dovetailing it into our nature ; thence the change which a first passion works in every young mind. The ambition to be loved, the desire to win affection, teach us those ways of pleasing, which, whether real or affected, become part and parcel of ourselves. Ijittle know we that in the passion we believe to be the most disinterested how much of pure egotism is mixed up ; and well is it for us such is the case. The imaginary standard we set w\) before ourselves is a goal to strive for, an object of high hope before us ; and few, if any, of our bolder enterprises in after life have not their birth in the cradle of finst love. The accolade, that in olden days by its magic touch converted the humble squire into the spurred and belted knight, hoi no such charm as the first beam from a bright eye when fulling upon the hidden depths of our heart, it has shown us a mine of rich thoughts, of dazzling hopes, of bright desires: this indeed is a change ; and who is there, having felt it, has not walked forth a prouder and a nobler spirit? Thoughts like these came rushing on my mind as I reflected ou my passion for Louisa Bellew ; and as I walked ray room my I04 JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMA.Y heart bounded with elation, and my step grew firm in its tread ; for I felt that already a new influence was beamnig on me, a new light was shining upon my path in life. Musing thus, I paid but httle attention to ray servant who had just left a letter upon my table ; my eye, at length, glanced at the address, which I perceived was in my mother's hand-wntiug; I opened it somewhat carelessly, for somehow my dear mother's letters had gradually decreased in their interest as my anti-Irish pre- judices grew weaker by time; her exclusively English notions I could no longer respond to so freely as before ; and as T knew the injustice of some of her opinions, I felt proportionably dis- pose to mistrust the truth of many others. The letter, as usual, was crossed, and re-crossed; for nothing, after all, was so thorough a criterion of fashion as a penurious avoidance of postage, and in consequence scarcely a portion of the paper was uncovered by ink. Tlie detail of balls and dinners, the "on dits " of the town, the rumoured changes in tlie ministry, who was to come in and who to go out, wiietlier Lord Arthur got a regiment, or Lady Mary a son, had all become compara- tively uninteresting to me. What we know and what we live in, is the world to us ; and the arrival of a new bear is as much a matter of interest in the prairies of the far west as the hrst night of a new ballet in the circles of Pans. In all probability, therefore, after satisfying myself that my friends were well, I should have been undutiful enough to put my mother's letter to bed in a card rack without any very immediate intention of disturbing its slumbers, when suddenly the word Roouey at- tracted my eye, and at once awakened my curiosity How the name of these people should hav3 come to my mother's aristocratic ears I could not conceive ; for although I had myself begun a letter about them, yet, on second thoughts, 1 deemed it better to consign it to the fire than risk a discovery, by no means necessary. I now sat patiently down before the fire, resolved to spell over the letter from beginning to end, and suffer nothing to escape me. All her letters, like the preamble of a deed, began with a certain formula — a species of lamentation over her wretched health; the difficulty of her case which, consisting in the absence of all symptons, had puzzled the faculty for years long — the inclemency of the weather, which by some fatality of fortune was sure to be rainy when Dr. Y said it ought to be fine, and oppressively hot when he assured her she required a bracing element; besides, it was evident the medical men mistook her case, and what chance bad she with Providence and the College of Physicians against her ! Then everyone was unkind — nobody believed her sick, or thought her valuable lile in danger, although froni four o'clock in the afternoon to the same hour the next morning she was continually before their eyes, driving yACK HL^/TOM, THE GUARDSMAN. 105 fn the park, visiting, dining, anJ even dancin?, too; in fact, exerting herself in every inuiginaljle shape ami firm for the sake of an ungrateful world that had nothing but hollow civilities to show her, instead of tears for her sufferings. Skimming my eyo rafiidlyover this, I came at length to the well-known jinragraph which always concluded this exordium, and which I cuiiM have repeated by heart, the purport of it being simply a prophetic menace of what would be the state, and what the feelings, of various persons unknown, when at licr demise they discovered how unjustly, how ungenerously, how cruelly, they had once or twice complimented her upon her health aud looks, during her Hfetime. The undying remorse of those unfeeling wretches, among whom it was very plain my father was numbered, was expatiated upon with much force, and (Jhristiau charity; for as certain joint-stock companies contrive in their advertisements to give an apparent stability to then- firm, by quoting sonm well-known Ccutts or Drummond as tiieu- bauker, so my poor mother, by simply introducing the word "Providence," into all her worldly transactions, thought she v.'as discharging the most rigid of Christian duties, and securing a happy retreat for her when that day should arrive, when neither rouge, nor false hair, would supply the deficiencies of youth, and death should unlock the jaw the dentist had furnished. Alter this came the column of court gossip, the last ]nin of the prince, and a '^viot" of Mr. Canning. "We hope," continued she, " poor Somerset will go to Madrid as ambas- sador : to refuse him would be a great cruelty, as he has been ordered by his medical men to try a southerly climate — Inim— ah — Lady Jane to replace Miss Barclay with the Landgravine.'' Very stupid all this; but come, here we have it, the writing too changes as if a different spirit had dictated it. '" Two o'clock. I've just returned from the Grevilles, seriously ill from the effect of the news that has reached me. Wretched boy ! what have you done? What frightful career of imprudence have you entered upon? Write to me at once ; for although I shall take .^mediate steps for your recall, I siiall be in a fever of im- patience till you tell me all about it. Poor dear Lord Dudley de Vere, howl love him for the way he speaks of you: fur although, evidently, your conduct to him has been something very gross, yet his language respecting you is marked not only by forbearance, but by kindness. Indeed, he attributes the spirit you have manifested to the instigation of another mem- ber of the staff, whose name, with his halntual delicacy, we could not prevail upon him to disclose. His account of that wretched country is distressing indeed; the frightful state of society, the barbarism of the natives, and the frequency of bloodshed. I shall not close my eyes tonight thinking of you; though he has endeavoured to re-assure me, by telling us, that !o6 JACK HINTON, THE CUARDSMAN. as the Castle is a strong place, and a considerable military- force always tliei'e, you are in comparative safety. But, my dear child, who are these fris-htful Eooneys, with the odious house where all this gambling and ruin goes forward ? How feelingly poor Lord Dudley spoke of the trials young men are exposed to. His parents have indeed a treasure in him. Eooney appears to be a money-lender, a usurer — most pro- bably a Jew. His wretched wife, what can she be ? and that designing minx, niece, daughter, or whatever this Miss Belloo — what a shocking name — may be ! To think you should have fallen among such people! Lord George's debts are, they say, very considerable, all owing, as he assures me, to his unfortu- nate acquaintance with this Eooney, with whom he appears to have had bill transactions for some time past. If your difficul- ties were only on the score of money I should think little of it; but a quarrelsome, rancorous spirit, a taste for low company, and vulgar associates, and a tendency to drink: these, indeed, are very shocking features, and calculated to inflict much misery on your parents. " However, let us, as far as possible, endeavour to repair the mishap. I write by this post to this Mr. Rooney, requesting him to send in his account to your father, and that in future any dinners, or wine, you may have at his house will not be paid for, as you are under age. I shall also let him know that the obscurity of his rank in life, and the benighted state of the country he lives in, shall prove no safeguard to him from our vigilance ; and as the chancellor dines with us to-morrow, I think of asking him if he couldn't be punished some way. Transportation, they tell me, has already nearly got rid of thegi])sies. As for yourself, make your arrangements to return immediately ; for, although your father knows nothing about it, I intend to ask Sir Henry Gordon to call on the Duke of York, and contrive an exchange for you. How I hate this secret adviser of yours — how I detest the Eooneys— how I abhor the Irish. You have only to come back with long hair, and the frightful accent, to break the heart of your affectionate, but afflicted mother. '• Your cousin Julia desii-es her regards— — I must say she has not shown a due respect to my feelings since the arrival of this sad intelligence ; it is only this minute she has finished a caricature of you nuxking love to a wild Irish girl with wings : this is not only cruel towards me but an unbecoming sarcasm towards a wretched jieojile, to whom the visitations of Providence should not bo made matters of reproach." Thus concluded this famous epistle, at which, notwithstanding that every lino offended me deeply. I could iiot refrain from bursting into laughter. ]\ry opinion of Lord Dudley had certainly not been of the highest; but yet was I totally unprepared for the JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 107 apparent di^iith of villainy his character possessed ; but I linow not, tlion, how strong an alloy of cnnnin<,f exists in every tool; and how, almost invariably, a narrow intellect, and a malevolent disposition, are associated in the same individnal. There is no prcjndice more jiopnlar, nor is there any which is Letter worth relating, than tliat wiiich attributes to folly certain good qualities of heart, as a kind of compensation for the deficiency in those of tlic nead. Now, althongh there are of course instances to the contrary, yet will the fact be found gen- erally true, that mediocrity of mind has its influence in pro- ducing a mischievous disjiosition. Unable to carry on any lengthened chain of reasoning, the man of narrow intellect looks for some immeiliatc result, and in his anxiety to attain his ob- ject, forgetful of the value of both character and credit, he is prepared to sacrifice the whole game of life, provided he secure but the odd trick. Besides, the very iusulliciency of his re- sources lead him out of himself ior his enjoyments and his occu- ]'ations. AVatching, therefore, the game of life, he gradually acrpures a certain low and underhand cunning, which, being mis- taken by himself for ability, he omits no occasion to displiiy it; and hence begins the petty warfare of malice he wages against tlie world with all the siiiteiul ingenuity and malevolence of a monkc)'. \ could trace through all my mother's letter the dexterity with which Lord Dudley avoided coujmitting himself respecting me, while his delicacy regarding O'Grady'a name was equally conspicuous to a certain extent. He might have been excused if he bore no good will to one or other of us ; but what could jnilliate his ingratitude to the Kooneys ? what could gloss over the base return he made them, for all their hospitalities and attention ? for nothing was more clear than that the light in which he represented them to my mother made them appear as low and intriguing adventurers. This was all bad enough ; but what should I say of the threatened letter to them. In what a position would it place tnc, before those who had been nnitbrmly kind and good- natured towards me ; the very thought of this nearly drove me to distraction, and I confess it was in no dutiful mood I crushed up the epistle in my hand, and walked my room in an agony of shame and vexation. JACK HINTQN, THE GUARDSMAN, CHAPTEE XVI. A MORNING IN TOWN. The morning after the receipt of the letter, the contents of which I have in part made known to the reader, O'Grady called on me to accompany him into the city. "I am on a borrowing expedition, Jack," cried he ; " and there's nothing like having a new face with one. Cavendisli, Hopeton, and the rest of them, are so well-known, it's of no nse having them. Bnt yon, my boy, you're fresh, your smooth cliin does not look like a protested bill, and you've got a degaijc care- less manner, a kind of unsuspicious look about you, a man never has, after a bailiff has given him an epaulette of live dirty figures." "But Phil," said I, "if you really want money ." "My very excellent young friend," interrupted he, in a kind of sermon voice, " don't finish it, I beseech you ; that is the very last thing in the way of exchequer a gentleman is ever driven to — borrowing from a friend. Heaven forbid ! but even supposing the case that one's friend has money, why, the presumption is, that he must have borrowed it himself ; so that you are spungiug npm his ingenuity, not his income; besides, wliyr^ldle one's own ships, while there is an enemy before us to fight. Please to re- member the money-lenders, the usurers, the stockbroking knaves at fifty per cent, that the world \c glutted with ; these are the true game for a sporting gentleman, who would rather harpoon a shark any day. than spear a salmon." " But what's become of Paul ? Is he not available." "Don't you know what has happened there? But I was forgetting you've kept the house this week past. In the first place, La Belle Louise has gone home, Paul has taken his depar- ture for the circuit, and Mrs. Paul, after three days' sharp hysterics, has left town for her villa, near Bray ; old Harvey, finding it doubtless more convenient to visit her there, witii twenty guineas for his fee, than to receive one for his call at Stephen's Green." " And what is supposed to be the cause of all this ? " said I, scarce able to conceal my agitation. " The report goes," re])lied he, " that some bank has broke in Calcutta or the Caucasus, or somewhere, or that some gold-mine ill Peru, in which Paul had a share, has all turned out to be only i»lated goods ; for it was on the receipt of a letter, on the very morning of Paul's departure, tiiat she took so dangerously ill: and as Paul, in his confusion, brought the attorney, instead JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 109 nf tlie surgcon-tTcneral. Iho case l)Ocamc alarmiii!,', and llicy gave lior so much aitlier and sal volatile that it requiri'd tlie united strength of the I'amily to keep her from ascending like a balloon. However, the worst of it all is, the house is shut, the windows closed, aud where lately on the door-steps a pair of yellow jilush breeches iigured bright, and splendent as the glorious sun, a dusky-looking planet in threadbare black now informs you that the family are from home, and not expected back for the summer." " Perhaps I can explain the mystery," said I, as a blush of shame burnt on my cheek: "read this." So saying, I handed O'Grady the letter, doubled down at the part Avhere Lord Dudley's mention of the liooneys began. (Irievedas I felt thus to expose the absurd folly of my mother's conduct, yet I felt the necessity of having at least one friend to advise with, and that, to render his counsel of any value a perfect candour on my part was equally imperative. While his eye glanced over the lines, I walked towards the window, expecting at each moment some open burst of indig- nation would escape him — some outbreak of passionate v/armtb, at the cold-blooded ingratitude aud malevolence of one whom ]ircviously we had regarded but as a fool. Kot so: on the contrary, he read the letter to the end with an unchanged countenance, folded it up with great composure, and then turn- ing his back to the fire, he burst out into a tit of the most im- moderate laughter. " Look ye, J ack," cried he, in a voice almo.st suffocated with the emotion, " I am a poor man, have scarcely a guinea I can call my own, 3'et I'd have given the best hack in my stable to have seen the Eooneys reading that letter. There, there: dou't talk to me, boy, about villainy, ingratitude, and so forth. The fun of it, man, covers all the rest. Only to think of Mr. Paul Rooiiey, the Aniphytrion of viceroys, chancellors, bishops, nuijor-generals, and lord-mayors, asked for his bill — to scure /ip all your champagne and your cura^oa ; your turtle, your devilled kidneys; all the heavy brigade of your grand dinners, and all the light infantry of luncheons, breakfasts, grilled liones, and sandwiches! The Lord forgive your mother for putting it .n his head ! M\j chalk would be a fearful one, not to speak of the ugly item of 'cash advanced.' Oh! it'll kill me, I know that. Don't look so serious, man ; you may live fifty years, and never have so good a joke to laugh at. Tell me. Jack, do you think your mother has kept a copy of the letter .'^ I would give my right eye for it. AVhat a feartul temper Paul will be in, on circuit! and as to Mrs. llooney, it will go hard with her, but she cuts the whole arist'jcracy, for at least a week. There never was anything like it. To hint at trausporting the Princess O'Toolo, whose ancestor was hero K no JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. in the time of IVfopes. Ah, Jaclc, how little respect your mo- ther appears to have for an old family ! She evidently has no classical associations to hallow her memory withal." " I confess," said I, somewhat tartly, " had I anticipated the spirit with which you have taken up this matter I doubt whether I should have shown you the letter." " And if you had not," replied he, " I'd not have forgiven you till the day of my death. Next to a legacy, a good la.ugh is the best thing I know : indeed, sometimes it is better; for you can't be choused oxit of it by your lawyer." " Laughing is a very excellent practice no doubt, but I looked for some advice " "Advice! to be sure, my boy; and so you shall have it. Only give me a cood training canter of a hearty laugh, and you'll see what running I'll make, when it comes to sound discretion afterwards. The fun of a man's temperament is like the frjith on your champagne; while it gives a zest to the liquor of life by its lightness and its sparkle, it neither detracts from the flavour nor the strength of the beverage. At the same time, when I begin to froth up don't expect me to sober down before twenty- four hours. So take your hat, come along into town, and thank your stars that you have Ijeen able to delight the heart of a man who's trying to get a bill discounted. Now hear me, Jack," said he, as we descended the stairs; "if you expect me to conduct myself with becoming gravity and decorum, you had better avoid any mention of the Eooneys for the rest of the day ; and now d Vouvragc.'" As we proceeded down Dame-street my friend scientifically explained to me the various modes there were of obtaining money on loan. " 1 don't speak," said he, " of those cases where a man has landed security, or property of one kind or other, or even expec- tations, because all these are easy — the mere rule of three in financial arithmetic What I mean are the decimal fractions of ,1 man's difficulties, when, with as many writs against him as would make a carpet for his bed-room, he can still go outwith ' an empty pocket in the morning and come back with it furnished at night. And now to begin. The maxims of the s])orting world are singularly applicable to the practice before us._ You'i-e told, that, before you enter a preserve, your first duty is to see that your gun is properly loaded— all the better if it be a double-barrelled one. Now look here," as he spoke he drew from his sabretaschefive bills for one hundred pounds each; " you see I am similarly prepared. The game may get up at any moment, and not find me at half cock; and although I only go out for a single bird, that is. but one hundred, yet, if by good Inck I flush a covey, you sec I am ready for them all. The doctrine of chances shows us that five to one is better than an even beti fACK* HiNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. ni |50, Tiy scattcrinfT these five Lills in clifferent directions, tlio odds arc uxtictly so many in my favour tluit I raisi; a huudred somewhere." " And now," said I. " wliere does the game lie ? " "I'm cotniiiL,' to that, .lack. \^m\• ricli preserves arc all about tlie neighbourhood of Clare-street, i'ark-street, I^Ierrion- Jitreet, and that direction. With them, alas I I have nothing to do. My broad acres have long since taken wings to themselves; and I fear a mortgage upon ]\Iouiit O'Urady, as it at present exists, would l.e a poor remedy for an empty pocket. The rich money-lenders despise poor devils like me : they love not con- tingencies ; and, as Macbeth says, ' They have no speculation in their eyes.' For them, my dear Jack, j'ou must have messuages and tenements, and- out-houses, townlands, and turbaries; corn, cattle and cottages; pigs, potatoes, and pea- santry. Tliey love to let their eye range over a rich and swelling scene of woodland, and prairie; for they arc the landscape gardeners of usury — they are the liobbimas and Berghems of the law." Others again, of smaller range and humbler practice, there are, to whom, upon occasion, you assign yonr grandfather's plate and the pictures of your grand-aunts for certain monied con- veniences you stand in need of. These are a kind of Brobdignag pawnbrokers, who have tine houses, the furniture of which is everlastingly changing, each creditor sending his representative, like a minister to a foreign court: with them, also, I have nothing to do. The family have had so little to eat for the last two generations that they trouble themselves but slightly, on the score of silver dishes; and as to j^ictures, I possess but one in the world — a portrait of my father in his wig and robes. This, independent of other reasons, I couldn't part with, as it is one of the only means I possess of controlling Corny, when his temper becomes more than usually untractable. tlpou these occasions, I hang up the ' jidge' over the chimney-piece, and the talisman has never failed yet. " Xow, Jack, my constitueucy live about Fleet-street, and those small, obscure, dingy-looking passages that branch from it on either side. Here live a class of men who, having begun ^ life as our servants or valets, are in perfect jiossession of all our habits of life, our wants, and our necessities. Having amassed enough by retail robbery of us while in our service, to establish some petty tavern, or some low livery stable, they end by cheating us wholesale, for the loan of our own money, at their rate of interest. Well aware that, however deferred, we must pay eventually, they are satisfied, good, easy souls, to renew and renew bills, wliose current ]ier centage varies from five- and-tweaty to forty. And even, notwithstanding all this, Jack, they are, difheult devils to deal with ; any appearance of being 112 JACK HIMTON, THE GUARDS MAM. harel-np, any show of being outat-elbows, rendering a ne- gotiation as diflicult as the assurance of a condemned ship for a China voyage. ISTo, my boy; though your house be besieged by duns, though in every passenger you see a baiUS", and never nap after dinner without dreaming of the Marsh aisea, yet still, the very moment you cross the precincts of their dwelling, you must put your care where your cash ought to be — iu your pocket. You must wear the easy smile of a liappy conscience, and talk of your want of a few hundreds as thuugh it were a question of a pinch of snufF, or a glass of brandy andwaler, while you agree to the exorbitant demands they exf ct, with the careless indifference of one to whom money is no object, rather than with the despair of a wretch, who looks for no benefit in life, save in the act for insolvent debtors. This you'll say is a great bore, and so I once thought too; now, however, I have got somewhat used to it, and sometimes don't actually dislikethe fun. Why, man, I have been at it for three months at a time. I remember when I never blew my nose without pulhng out a writ along with my pocket-handkerchief, and I never was ia better spirits iu all my life. But here we are. This is Billy Pagan's, a well-known drysalter : you'll have to wait for me iu the" front parlour for a moment while I neg itiate with Billy.'' Elbowing our way through a squalid and miserable-looking throng of people that filled the narrow hall of a house in Fleet- street, we forced on till we reached an inner door in which a sliding pannel permitted those within to communicate with others on the outside. Tapping at this with his cane, O'Grady called out something which I could not catch, the panel at once flew back, a red carbuncled face appeared at the opening, the owner of which, with a grin of very peculiar signi- fication, exclaimed — "Ah, it's yourself, captain ? Walk in, sir." With these words the door was opened, and we were admitted into the inner hall. This was also crowded, but with a diii'erent class from what I had seen without. These were apparently men in business, shopkeepers, aud traders who, reduced by bome momentary pressure, to effect a loan, were content to prop up their tottering credit by sapping the very core of their pros- perity. Unlike the others, on whom habitual poverty ii,nd daily misery had stamped its heavy impress, and whose faces too.inured to suffering, betrayed no shame at being seen. These, on the contrary, looked downward or aside; seemed impatient, fretful, and peevish, and indicated in a hundred ways how unused they were to exigencies of this nature, muttering to themselves in angry mood at being detained, and feigning a resolution to depart at every moment. O'Grady, after a confcii'iiee of a few moments with the rubicund Cerberus I have mentioned, beckoned to me to follow him. We proceeded accordingly up a JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 113 narrow crcaklnw stair, into a kind of front drawing-room, in which aliOTit a dozen jiersons were seated, or listlessly lounging in every iinaginablo attitude, some on chairs, some on the window sills, some on the taljles, and one even on the mantle- piece, with his legs gracefully dangling in front of the lire. Perfectly distinct from the other two classes I have mentioned, these were all young men whose dress, look, and bearing bespoke them of rank and condition. Chatting away gaily, laughing, joking, and triling good stories, they seemed but little to care fur the circumstances which brought them there; and, while they quizzed each other about their various debts and diliiculties. seemed to think want of money as about the very best joke a gentleman could laugh at. By all of these O'Grady was welcouKil with a burst of applause, as they eagerly pressed forward to shake hands with him. " I say, O'Grady," cried owo, " we muster strong this morning. I hope Fagan's bank will stand the run on it. AVhat's your figure ? " •' Oh, a couple of hundred," said Phil, carelessly ; " I have got rather a heavy book on the steeple chase." " So I hear," said another, " and they say Ulick Burke won't ride for you ; he knows no one can sit the horse but himself; and Maher, the story goes, has given him a hundred and fifty to leave you in the lurch ! " " How good ! " said Phil, smiling ; for although this intelli- gence came upon him thus suddeidy, he never evinced the slightest surprise, nor the most trifling irritation. " You'll pay forfeit, of course, Phil," said the gentleman on the chimney. " I fancy not." "Then will you take two fifties to one, against your horse? " " Will you give it ? " was the cool reply. " Yes." " And I — and I also," said different voices round the room. "Agreed, gentlemen, with all of you. So if you please we'll Look this. Jack, have you got a pencil ?" As I drew forth my pocket-book I could not help whispering to O'Grady that there seemed something like a coalition among his opponents. Before I could conclude, the red face appeared at the door. O'Grady hastily muttered, "wait for me here," and left the room. During his absence I had abundant time to study those about me ; indeed, a perfect sameness in their characters as in their pursuits, rendered it an easy process, for as with un- garded frankness they spoke of their several difEcultie.«, their stories presented one uniform feature— reckless expenditure and wasteful extra\agance, with limited means and encumbered fortunes ; they had passed through every phase of borrowing, 114 JACK HIiMTU.\\ THE GUARDSMAiW every mode of raising money, and were now reduced to the last rung of the ladder of expediency, to become the prey of the usurer, who meted out to them a few more months of extrava- gance at the cost of many a future year of sorrow and repining. I was beginning to grow impatient as the door gently opened, and I saw my friend, as he emerged from the back drawing- room. Without losing a moment's time I joined him. We descended the stairs together, and walked out into the street. "Are you fond of pickled herrings, Jack ? " said O'Grady, as he took my arm. " Pickled herrings ! Why, what do you mean ? " "Probably," resumed he, in the same dry tone of voice, " you prefer ash bark, or assafoetida ? " " Why, I can't say." " Ah, my boy ! you're difficult to please, then. What do you say to whale oil and Welch wigs 'i " " Confound me if I understand you." " Nothing more easy after all, for of each of these com- modities I'm now a possessor to the amount of some two hundred and twenty pounds. You look surprised, but such is the nature of our transactions here ; and for my bill of five hundred, payable in six months, I have become a general mer- chant to the extent I've told you, not to mention paying eighty more for a certain gig and horse, popularly known in this city as the discount dennet. This," continued he with a sigh, "is about the tenth time I've been the owner of that vile conveyance ; for you must know whenever Pagan advances a good round sum, he always insists upon something of this kind forming part of it, and thus, according to the figure of 3'our loan, you may drive from his door in anything, i'rom a wheel-barrow to a stage-coach. As for the discount dennet, it is as well known as the black-cart that conveys the prisoners to Newgate, and the reputation of him who travels in either, is pretty much on a par. From the crank of the rusty springs, to the limping amble of the malicious old black beast in the shafts, the whole thing has a look of beggary about it. Every jingle of the ragged harness seems to whisper in your ear fifty per cent.; and drive which way you will, it is impossible to get free of the notion that you're not trotting along the road to ruin. To have been seen iij it once is as though you had figured in the pillory, and the very fact of its being in your posses- sion is a blow of a battering-ram to your credit for ever ! " " But why venture into it ? — if you must have it, let it bo like the pickled herrings and the paving stones — so much of pure loss." " I'he fact is, Jack, it is generally passed off on a young hand, the first time he raises money ; — he knows little of the JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 115 town, less of it3 secret practices, and not until he lias furnislirrl a hearty laugh to all his acquaintances does he discover the blunder he has committed; — besides, sometimes you're hard up for something to bring you about. I remember once keeping it an entire winter, and as I painted Latitat a good piebald, and had his legs whitewashed every morning, {ti\s recognised him, except such as had paid for their acquaintance. After this account, probably, you'll not like to drive with me; but as I am going to Loughrea for the race, I've determined to take the dennet down, and try if I can't find a jmrchaser among the country g.?ntlemen ; and now let's think of dinner. What do you say to a cutlet at the Club, and perhaps wo shall strike out something there to finish our evening ? " CHAPTER XVII. AN EVEMNG IX TOWX, We dined at the club-house, and sat chatting over our wine till near ten o'clock : the events of the morning were our i)rincipal topics : for althouL'h 1 longed myself to turn the conversation to the Rooneys, I was deterred from doing so by the fear of another outbreak otO'Gradj'-'s mirth. Meanwhile, the time rolled on, and rapidly too, ior my companion, with an earnestness of manner and a force of expression I little knew he possessed, detailed to mc many anecdotes of his own early career ; from tliese I could glean that while O'Grady suffered himself to be borne along the current of dissipation and excess, yet, in his heart he repudiated the life he led, and, when a moment of ri'fiection came, felt sorrow for the past, and but little hope for the future. " Yes, Jack," said he, on concluding a narrative of continual family misfortune, " there would seem a destiny in these things ; and if we look about us in the world we cannot fail to see, that families, like individuals, have their budding spring of youth and hope, their manhood of pride and power, and their old age of feebleness and decay. As for myself, I am about the last branch of an old tree, and all my endeavour has been, to seem green and cheerful to the last. " ]\iy debts have hung about my neck all through life ; the extravagences of my early 3'ears have sat like a mill-stone upon me, and I who began the world with a heart brimful o*'' hoj^e, and a soul bounding with amliition, have lingered on my path like a truant school-boy, and here I am, at the age cf Ti6 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. three-and-thirty, -witliout having realized a single promise of my boyhood, the poorest of all imaginable things — a gentleman, without fortune— a soldier, without service — a man of energy, without hope." " But why, Phil," said I, " how comes it that you never went out to the Peninsula ? " ''Alas, my boy ! from year to yearlhave gone on expecting my gazette to a regiment on service — too poor to purchase, too proud to solicit, I have waited in anxious expectancy, from some of those with whom, high as was their station, I've lived on terras of intimacy and friendship — that notice they extended to others less known than I was ; but somehow the temperament that would seem to constitute my happiness, has proved my bane, and those qualities which have made me a boon companion, liave left me a beggar. Handed over from one viceroy to another, like a state trumpeter or a butt of sherry, I have been left to linger out my best years a kmd of court jester; my only reward being, the hour of merriment over, that they who laughed with, should laugh at me." There was a tone of almost ferocity in the way he spoke these words ; while the trembling lip, the flashing eye, and the swollen veins of his temple betrayed that the very bitterest of all human emotions — self scorn — was racking his heart within him. For some time we were both silent ; had I even known what to say at such a moment, there was that comfortless exjiression about his face, that look of riveted despair, which would have rendered any effort, on my part, to console him, a vain and presumptuous folly. "But come, Jack," said he, filling his glass and pushing over the decanter to me, " I have learned to put little faitli in patrons; and although the information has been long in acquiring, still it has come at last, and I am determined to profit by it. I am now endeavouring to raise a little money to pay off the most jDressing of my creditors, and have made an application to the Horse-Guards to be appointed to any regiment on service, wherever it may be. If both these succeed, and it is necessary both should, then. Jack, I'll try a new path, and even though it lead to nothing, yet, at least, it will be a more manly one to follow; and if I am to linger on to that period of life when to look back is nearly all that's left us — why, then, the retrospect will be less dashed with shame than, with such a career as this is. Meanwhile, my boy, the decanter is with you, so fill your glass, I'll join you presently." As he spoke he sprang up and walked to the other end of the room, whrre a party of some half-dozen persons were engaged in putting on great coats, and buttoning up previous to departure. In an instant I could hear his voice higli above tho JACK IILXTOX, THE GUARDSMAX. uj rest, that cheerful i-inginsr tone that seemed the very tocsin of a happy lieart, while at some observation he made the wliole party aroimd him were convulsed with laughter. In the midst of all this he drew one of them aside, and conversing eagerly v ilh liim for a few seconds, pointed to me as he spoke. "Tliaiik you, my lord, thank you," said he, as he turned away. "I'll be auswerable for my friend. Now, Hinton,' whispered he, as he leaned his hand upon my shoulder and leant over me, " we're in luck to-niglit. at all events, fur I have just got permission to bring you with me where I am to spend the evening — it's no small iavuur if you knew but all ; so finish your wine, for my friends there are moving alread}'." All my endeavours to ascertain where we were going, or to whose liou.'-e, were in vain ; the only thing 1 eould learn was, that my admission was a prodigious favour — while to satisfy my scruples about dress he infurmed me that no change of costume was necessary. "I perceive," said O'Grady, as he drew the curtain and looked out into the street, " the night is fini; and star-light; so what fc-ay you if we walk ? I must tell you, however, our place of rendezvous is somewhat distant." Agreeint^ to the proposition with ])lcasure, I took his arm, and we salhed forth together. Our way led at first through a most crowded and frequented part of the capital. ^Ve traversed Dame-street, passed by the Castle, and ascended a steep street beyond it ; after this we took a turning to the left, and entered a ])art of the city, to me at least, utterly unknown; for about half-an-hour we continued to wander on, now to the right, now to the lelt ; the streets becoming gradually narrower, less frequented, and less lighted; the shcips were all closed, and few persons stirred in the remote thoroughfares. "I fear I must have made a mistake," said O'Grady, "endeavouring to take a short cut; but here comes a watch- man. I say, is this Kevin-street ? " '•No, sir; the second turning to your right brings you into "Kevin-street!" said I, repeating the name half aloud to myself. "Yes, Jack, so it is called ; but all your ingenuity will prove too little in discovering whither j-ou are going; so come along — leave time to tell you what guessing never will." By this time we arrived at the street in question, wlien very soon after O'Grady called out, — '' All right — here we are ! "' With these words he knocked three times in a peculiar nianner at the door of a large and gloomy-looking house. An ill-trinmied lamp threw a iaint and flickering light upon the old and ruined building, and 1 could trace here and there, Ii8 JACK HINTOy, THE GUARDSMAN. through all the wreck of lime, some remnants of a better day. The windows now, however, were broken in several places, those on the lower story being defended on the outside by a strong iron railing ; not a gleam of light shone through any one of them ; but a darkness unrelieved, save by the yellow gleam of the' street lamp, enveloped the entire building. O'Grady's summons was twice repeated ere there seemed any chance of its being replied to, when, at last, the step of a heavy foot descend- ing the stairs announced the approach of some one. AVhile I continued my survey of the house O'Grady never spoke, and, perceiving that he made a mystery of our visit, I resolved to ask no further questions, but patiently await the result; my impression, however, was, that the place was the resort either of thieves or of some illegal association, of which more than one, at that time, wei-e known to have their meetings in the capital. While I was thus occupied in my conjectures, and wondering Avithm myself how O'Grady had become acquainted with his friends, the deor opened, and a diminutive, mean-looking old man, shading the candle with his hand, stood at the entrance. " Good evening, Mickey," cried O'Grady, as he brushed by him into the hall. " Are they come ? " "Yes, captain," said the little man, as, snuffing the long •wick with his fingers, he held the light up to O'Grady's face. " Yes, captain, about fifteen." " This gentleman's with me — come along, Jack — he is my friend, Mickey." " Oh, I can't do it by no means. Mister Phil," said the dwarf, opposing himself as a barrier to my entrance — •*' you know what they said the last night ; " here he strained himself on his toes, and, as O'Grady stooped down, whispered some words I couldn't catch, while he continued aloud, "and you know after that, captain, I daren't do it." "I tell you, you old fool. I've arranged it all; so get along there, and show us the light up these confounded stairs. I suppose they never mended the hole on the lobby ? " "Troth they didnt," growled the dwarf; '-and it would be chaper for them nor breaking their shins every night." 1 followed O'Grady up the stairs, which creaked and bent beneath us at every step; the hand-rail, broken in many places, swung to and fro with every motion of the stair, and the walls,_ covered with green, and damp mould, looked the very picture of misery and decay. Still grumbling at the breacli t)f order incurred by my admission, tlie old man shuflled along wheezing, coughing, and cursing between times, till at length we reached the landing-place, where the hole of which I heard them speak permitted a view of the hall beneath; stepping across this, we entered a large roomhghted by a lamp upon the chimney-])iece, around the walls were hung a variety of what ajipeared to bo JACK HILTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 119 cloalcg of a li<,fhlisli drab colour, while over each hung a small 8kull-oap of 3'ollo\v leather. " Don't you hear tlio knoeldng below, Mickey? there's some one at the door," said 0"(.! rady. The little man left the room, and as wc were now alone, I expected pome explanation from my friend as to the place we were in, and the people who frequented it. Not so, however; Phil merely detached one of the cloaks from its peg, and proceeded to invest himself in its folds ; he placed the skull- cap on his head, after which, covering the whole with a hood, he fastened the garment around his waist with a girdle of rope, and stood before me the perfect picture of a monk of St. Benedict, as we see them represented in old pictures ; the only irregularity of costume being, tliat instead of a rosary, the string from his girdle sujiported a cork-screw and a horn spoon of most portentous proportions. " Come, my son," said he, rcverentl}-, " indue thy garment ; " so saying, he proceeded to clothe me in a similar manner, after which he took a patient survey of me for a few seconds. " You'll do very well : wear the hood well forward ; and mark me, Jack, I've but one direction to give you — never speak a word, not a syllable, so long as you remain in the house; if spoken to, cross your arms thus upon your breast, aud bow your head in this manner. Try that — perfectly — jou have your lesson ; now don't forget it." O'Grady now, with his arms crossed upon his bosom, and his head bent slightly forward, walked slowly forth, with a solemn gravity, well befitting his costume. Imitating him as well as I was able, I followed him up the stairs. On reach- ing the second landinc;', he tapped twice with his knuckles at a low door, whose pointed arch, and iron grating, were made to represent the postern of a convent. " Bcnediclte,^' said Phil, in a low voice. " Et tu qiwqnc, frdtrr," responded some one from within, and the door was opened. Saluting a venerable-looking figure, who, with a long grey beard, bowed devoutly as we passed, wo entered an apartment, where, so sudden was the change from what I had hitherto seen, I could scarcely trust my eyes. A comfortable, well-carpeted room, with curtained windows, cushioned chairs, and, not least inviting of all, a blazing lire of v/ood upon the hearth, were objects I was little prepared for; but I had little time tu note them, my attention being directed with more curiosity to the living occupants of this strange dwelling. Some fifteen or sixteen persons, costumed like our- selves, either walked u}) and down engafjed in conversation, or sat in little groups around the fire. Card tables there were in different parts of tlie mom, but one only was occujMed. I20 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. At this a party of reverend fathers were busily occupied at whist. In the corner next the fire, seated in a large chair of carvel oak, was a figure, whose air and bearing bespoke authority ; the only diiferonce ia his costume from the others being a larcre eniljroidered cork-screw, which he wore on his left shoulder. " Holy prior, your blessing," said Phil, bowing obsequiously before him. " You have it, my son : much good may it do you," responded the superior, in a voice which, somehow or other, seemed not perfectly new to me. While O'Grady engaged in a whispered conversation with the prior, I turned my eyes towards a large- framed paper which hung above the chimney. It ran thus : — " Kules and regulations to be observed in the monastery of the venerable and pious brothers, the Monks of the Screiv.'' Conceiving it scarcely delicate in a stranger to read over the regulations of a society of which he was not a member, I was turning away, when O'Grady, seizing me by the arm, whispered, " Kemember your lesson ; " then added aloud, " holy father, this is the lay brother of whom I spoke." The prior bowed formally, and extended his hands towards me with a gesture of benediction. " Accipe benedictlonem " "Supper, by the Lord Harry !" cried a jolly voice behind me, and at the same moment a general movement was made by the whole party. The prior now didn't wait to conclude his oration, but tucking up his garments, put himself at the head of the procession which had formed, two and two, in order of march. At the same moment, two fiddles from the supper-room, after a slight prelude, struck up the anthem of the order, which was the popular melody of, " The night before Larry was stretched ! " Marching in measured tread, we entered the supper-room, when, once having made the circuit of the table, at a flourish of the fiddles we assumed our places, the superior seating himself at the head in a chair of state, slightly elevated above tlie rest. A short Latin grace, which I was unfortunate enough not to catch, being said, the work of eating began; and, certaitdy, whatever might have been the feats of the friars of old, when the bell summoned them to the refectory, their humble followers, the ]\Ionks of the Screw, did them no discredit. A profusion of dishes covered the table ; and although the entire service was of wood, and the whole " equipage " of the most plain and simple description, yet the cookery was admirable, and the wines perfection itself While the supper proceeded, scarcely a word was spoken. By the skilful exercise of signs, with which they all seemed familiar, roast ducks, lobsters, veal -pics, and iellies llcw from hand to hand : the decanters also paraded up JACK HIM TON, THE GUARDSMAN. 121 and Jown the table with an alacrity and despatch I liad seldom seen cqiiiilled. Slill, the pious brotliren mamtainod a tacitnru deineanuiir that would have done credit to La Trappe itself. As for me, my astonishment, and curiosity, increased every moment. What could tliey be? "What could they mean? There was something too farcical about it all to suppose that any political society, or any dangerous association, could bo concealed under such a garb ; and if mere conviviality and good fellowship were meant, their unbroken silence and grave demeanour struck me as a most singular mode of promoting either. Supper at length concluded, the dishes were removed by two hunihle i)rctliren of the order, dressed in a species of gray serge ; after which, marching to a solemn tune, audther monk appeared, bearing a huge earthenware bowl, brimful of steam- ing ]iunch — at least so the odour and the floating lemons bespoke it. Each brother was now provided with a small quaint-looking pipkin, after which the domestics withdrew, leaving us in silence as before. For about a second or two this continued, when suddenly the fiddles gave a loud twang, and each monk, springing to his legs, threw back his cowl, and, bowing to the superior, reseated himself. So sudden was the action, so unexpected the effect, for a moment or two I believed it a dream. "What was my surprise, what my amazement, that this den of thieves, this hoard of burglars, this secret council of rebels, was nothing more or less than an assemblage of nearly all the first men of the day in Ireland ! and as my eye ran rapidly over the party, here I could see the Chief Raron, with a venerable dignitary of St. Patrick's ou his right ; there was the Attorney- General ; there the Provost of Trinity College : lower down, with his skull-cap set jauntily on one side, was "Wellesley Pole, the secretary of state; Yelverton, Day, Plunket, Parsons, Toler ; in a word, all those whose names were a guarantee for everything that was brilliant, witty, and amusing, were there; while, conspicuous among the rest, the prior himself was no other than John Philpot Curran ! Scarcely was my rapid survey of the party completed, when the superior, filling liis ])ipkin from the ample bowl before him, rose to give the healtli of the order. Alas me ! that time should have so sapped my mr'mory : I can but give my impression of what I heanl. The speech, which lasted about ten minutes, was a 'kind ot burlesque on speeshes Irom the throne, describing in formal phrase the prosperous state of their institution, its amicable foreign relations, the flourishing condition of its finances — brother Yelverton having paid in the two andsixpence he owed for above two years — concluding all with the hope that by a rigid economy, part of which consisted in limiting John Toler to ten pipkins, they would soon be enabled to carry into efl'eet the 122 JACK HINTON, the GUARDSMAM. proposed works on tlie frontier, and expend the sum of fouf shillings and ninepence in the repair of the lobby : wituling up all with a glowing eulogium on monastic institutions in general, he concluded with recommending to their special ilevotion and unanimous cheers " the Mduks of the Screw." Never, certainly, did men compensate for their previous silence better than the worthy brethren in question. Cheering with an energy I never heard the like of, each man finished his pipkin with just voice enough left to call for the song of the order. Motioning with his hand to the fiddlers to begin, the prior cleared his throat, and, to the same simple but touching melody they had marched in to supper, sang the following ehant : — " GOOD 1/ ' : TO THE FRIARS OF OLD. " Of all trades that flourislicd of old, Before men knew reading and writing, The friars" was best I am told. If one wasn't much given to fighting ; For, rent free, you lived at your ease — You had neither to work nor to labour — You mislit cat of whatever you please. For the prog was supplied by your neighbour. Oh, good luck to the friars of old ! " Your dress was convenient and cheap — A loose robe like this I am wearing : It was pleasant to eat in or sleep And never much given to tearing. Not tightened nor squeezed in the least — How of modern days you might shame us ! With a small bit of cord round your waist— With what vigour you'd chaunt the oremus ! Oh, good luck to the friars of old ! " What Tuiracles then, too, you made The fame to this hour is lasting ; But the strangest to all, it is said. You grew mighty fat upon fasting! And though strictly forbid to touch wine, How the fact all your glory enhances ! You well knew the taste of the vine — Some miraculous gift of St. Francis ! Oh, good luck to the friars of old ! " To trace an example so meek. And repress all our carnal desires, Wc Tiiount two pair stairs every week. And put ou the garment of friars ; ^ACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 123 And our onlcr it?clf it is old — Tlic oldfst. lietween luc and you. sir ; For King David, tiicy say, was enrolled, And a capital Monk of the Screw, sir. So, good luck to the friars of old ! " The song over, and another cheer given to the brethren of the Screw, the j)ipkins were replenished, and the conversation, so luiijLj pent ui>, burst forth in all its plenitude. Xothiug but fun, nothing l)ut wit, nothing but nierrimeut, was heard on either side. Here were not only all the bright spirits of the day, but they were met by appointment ; they came prepared fur the combat, armed for the fight; and, certainly, never war such a joust of wit and brilliancy. Grood stories rained around; jests, repartees, and epigi-ams Hew like iightuing ; and one had but time to catch some sparkling gem as it glittered, ere another and another succeeded. I3ut even already I grow impatient with myself, while I speak of these things. How poor, how vapid, and how meagre is the effort to recall the wit that set the table in a roar ! Not ouly is memory wanting, but how can one convey the incessant roll of fun, the hailstorm of pleasantry, that rattled about our ears ; each good thing that w;is uttered ever suggesting some-' thing still better; the brightest fancy and the most glowing ima- gination stimulated to their ntmost exercise; while powers of voice, of look, and of mimicry xinequalled, lent all their aid to the scene. While I sat entranced and delighted with all I saw and all I heard, I had not remarked tliat O'Grady had been addressing the chair for some time previous. "Reverend brother," replied the prior, "the prayer of thy petition is inadmissible. The fourth rule of our faith says, de coiifessionc : — No subject, mirthful, wilt)'', or jocose, known to, or l)y, any member of the order, shall be withheld i'voin the l)rotlierhood nnder a penalty of the heaviest kind. And it goes on to say, that whether the jest involve your father or your mother, your wife, your sister, or the aunt from whom you expect ii legacy, no exception can be made. What you then look, for is clearly impossible ; make a clean breast of it, and begin." This being a question of order, a silence was soon established, when, what was my horror to find that Phil O'Grady began the whole narrative of my mother's letter on the subject of the Kooncys : not limiting himself, however, to the meagre docu- ment in question, but colouring the story with all the force of his imagination, he displayed to the brethren the ludicrous ex- tremes of character i:)ersonated by the London fine lady, and the Dublin attorney's wife ! Shocked as I was at first, he had 124 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAX. not proceeded far, when I was forced to join the laughter : the whole table pounced upon the story ; the Eooneys were well known to them all ; and the idea of poor Paul, who dispensed his hospitalities with a princely hand, having his mansion degraded to the character of a chop-house, almost convulsed them with laughter. " I am going over to Londou next week," said Parsons, " with old Lambei-t; and if I thought I should meet this Lady Charlotte Hinton I'd certainly contrive to have him iDresented to her as Mr. Paul Rooney." This observation created a diversion in favour of my lady mother, to which I had the satisfaction of listening, without the power to check. " She has," said Dawson, " most admirable and original views; about Ireland ; and were it only for the fact of calliug on the Rooneys for their bill, deserves our gratitude. I humbly move, therefore, that we drink to the health- of our worthy sister, Lady Charlotte Hinton." The next moment found me hip, hipping, in derision, to my mother's health, the only consolation being, that I was escaping unnoticed and unknown. " Well, Bairington, the duke was delighted with the corps ; nothing could be more soldier-like than their appearance, as they marched past." "Ah, the attorneys', isn't it? the Devil's Own, as Curran calls them." "Yes, and remarkably well they looked. I say, Parsons, you heard what poor Rooney said, wheu 8ir Charles Asgill read aloud tbe general order, complimenting them — ' May I beg. Sir Charles,' said he, 'to ask, if the document in your hand be an attested copy ? ' " Capital faith ! By- the-bye, what's the reason, can anyone tell me, Paul has never invited me to dine for the last two years ? " "Indeed !" said Curran ; "then your cha.nce is a bad one, for the statute of limitations is clearly against yon." " Ah, Kellar, the Rooneys have cut all their low acquain- tances, and your prospects look very gloomy. You know what took place between Paul and Lord Manners ? " " No, Barrington ; let's hear it, by all means !" "Paul had met him at Kinnegad, where both had stopped to change horses — ' A glass of sherry, my lord ? ' quoth Paul, wth a most insinuating look. " ' No, sir, thank yon,' was the distant reply. " ' A bowl of gravy, then, my lord ? ' rejoined he. " ' Pray, excuse me,' more coldly than before. " ' May be a chop and a crisped potato would tempt your Iordshi[)? ' " ' Neither, Sir, I assure you.' JACK J/L\TOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 125 "'2vi>r a t,'l:iss of egg-Hip?' repeated Paul, in an accent borJn-iiig on di'spair " \N'(ir even tlie I'j,'!,' flip,' rejoined his lordship, in the most ponipDiis manner. '■ 'Tlii'n, my lord.' said raid, drawinc^ himself up to his full liei^rlit, and looking liiiii fniiily in the face, ' I've only to say, ll>o "onus '■ is now on you.' \\'itli which hi' stalked out of the room, leaviiii,^ the chancellor to liis own rctlections." " Hivthren, the .saint ! " cried out the prior, as he rose from the cliair. "The saint ! the saint ! " reechoed from lip to lip; and at the same moment the door opened, and a monk appeared, bearing a silver image of St. Patrick, about a foot and a half high, which lie depo.-ited in the middle of the taljle with the utmost rever- ence. All the monks rose, illlinE^ their ]iipkins, while the junior of the order, a fat little monk with si)ectacles, began the follow- ing dilt3% in which all the rest joined, with every energy of voice and manner : — "When St. Patrick our orJer created, And culled us the Jlonks of the Screw, Good rules lie revealed to our abbot To guide us in what we should do. II. '■' r.ut fir.st he r;pleni&hed his fountain With li(iuor the \ est in the sky, And he swore by the word of iiis saintship 'ihat fountain tiiould never run dry. III. "My children, be chaste, till you're tempted; \VhiIe sober, be wise and discreet ; And humble your bodies with fasting Whene'er jou've nothing to eat. IV. "Then be not a plnss in the convent, Except on a festival, found ; And this rule to enforce, 1 ordain i A ftfslival all the 3 ear round." A hip, hip, hurrah! that made the very saint totter on his legs, shook the room ; and once more the reverend fathers re-seated themselves to resume their labours. Agiiu the conversation flowed on in its broader channel, and 126 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. scarcely was tlie laughter caused by one anecdote at an end Avhen another succeeded ; the strangest feature of all this being, that he who related the story was, in almost in every instance, less the source of amusement to the party than they who, listening to the recital, threw a hundred varied lights upon it, making even the tamest imaginable adventure the origin of in- numerable ludicrous situations, and absurd fancies. Besides all this, there were characteristic differences in the powers of the party, which deprived the display of any trace or ajipearance ot sameness: the epigrammatic terseness and nicety of Curran — the jovial good humour, and mellow raciness of Lawrence Parsons — the happy facility of converting all before him into a pun or a repartee, so eminently possessed by Toler — and, per- haps more striking than all, the caustic irony and piercing sarcasm of Plunket's wit, relieved and displayed each other; each man's talent having only so much of rivalry as to excite opposi- tion and give interest to the combat, yet never by any accident originating a particle of animosity, or even eliciting a shade of passing irritation. With what pleasure could I continue to recount the stories, the songs, the sayings, I listened to. With what satisfaction do I yet look back upon that brilliant scene^ nearly all the actors in which have since risen to high rank and eminence in the couutry. How often, too, in their bright career, when 1 have heard the warm praise of the world bestowed upon their triumphs and their successes, has my memory carried me back to that glorious night, when with hearts untrammelled by care, high in hope, and higher in ambition, these bright spirits sported in all the wanton exuberance of their genius, scattering w4th pro- fusion the rich ore of their talent, careless of the depths to which the mine should be shafted hereafter. Yes, it is true there were giants in those days ! However much one may be disposed to look upon the eulogist of the past, as one whose fancy is more ardent than his memory is tenacious, yet with respect to this, there is no denial of the fact, that great convivial gifts, great conversational power, no longer exist as they did some thirty or forty years ago. I speak more particularly of the country where I passed my youth — of Ireland: and who that remembers those names 1 have mentioned, — who that can recall the fascination, and charm, which almost every dinner- party of the day could boast,— who that can bring to mind the brilUancy of Curran, the impetuous power of Plunkct, or the f-legance of manner and classical perfection of wit that made Burke the Cicero of his nation, — who, I say, with all these things before his memory, can venture to comjuire the society of tiiat period with the present? No, no; the grey hairs that mingle with our brown may convict us of being a pre- JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. \rj juclicecl witness, but we would call into court every one whoso testimony is available, and confidently await the verdict. " And so they ran away!" said the ]irior, turning towards a tall, <,'annt-looking monk, who with a hollow voice, and solemn manner, was recordintf tlic singular disappearance of the nnlitia regiment he commanded on the morning they were to emharl: for England. " The story we hoard," resumed the prior, " was. that when drawn up in tlic Fifteen Acres, one of the light company caught sight of a hare, and Hung his musket at it. — The grenadiers followed the exam])le, and that then the whole battalion broke loose, with a loud yell, and set oft' in pur- suit " •'No, Sir," said the gaunt man, waving his hand to suppress the laughter around him. " They were assembled on the light- house wall, as it might be here, and we told them off" by taUies as they marched on board, not perceiving, however, that as fast as they entered the packet on one side they left it on the opposite, there being two jolly boats in waiting to receive them ; and as it was dusk at the time, the scheme was undetected, until the corporal of a flank company shouted out for them to wait for him, that being his boat. At this time we had fifty men, of our four hundred and eighty." "Ay, ay, holy father," cried the prior, as he helped himself to a devilled bone, '' your fellows were like the grilled bone before me; when they were mustered, they would not wait to bo peppered." This sally produced a roar of laughter, not the less hearty that the grim-visaged hero it was addressed to never relaxed a muscle of his face. It was now late, and what between the noise, the wine, and the laughtei', my faculties were none of the clearest. "Without having drunk much, I felt all the intoxica- tion of liquor, and a whirlwind of confusion in my ideas, that almost resembled madness. To this state one pjart of their pro- ceedings in a great measure contributed ; for every now and tiicn, on some signal from the prior, the whole party would fake hands and dance round the table to the measure of au Iri.sh jig, wilder and even more eccentric, than their own orgies. Indeed, I think this religious exercise finished me; for, after the thinl time oi its perlornumco. the wholo sctMio became a confused aiul disturbed mass, and, amid the crash of voices, the ringing of laughter, the tramping of feet, I sank into something which, if not sleep, was at least unconsciousness; and thus is a wet sjjonge drawn over the immediately succeeding portion of my histor}'. Some faint recollection I have of terrifying old Corny by my costume ; but what the circumstances, or how thoy happened, I cannot remember. I can only call to mind one act in vindica- tiou of my wisdom — I went to bed. 128 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN, CHAPTER XVIII. A CONFIDENCE. I SLEPT late on the morning after my introduction to the Monks of the Screw, and probably should have continued to indulged still longer, had not O'Grady awoke me. " Come, Jack," he cried, "this is the third time I have been here to-day. I can't have mei-cy on you any longer ; so rub your eyes, and try if you can't wake sufficiently to listen to me. I have just received my appointment as captain in the 41st, "with an order to repair immediately to Chatham to join the regiment, which is under orders for foreign service." " And when do you go, Phil "^ " " To-night, at eight o'clock. A private note from a friend at the Horse Guards tells me not to lose a moment ; and as I shall have to wait on the duke to thank him for his great kindness to me, I have no time to spare." This news so stunned me that for a moment or two I couldn't reply. O'Grady perceived it, and, patting me gaily on the shoulder, said — " Yes, Jack, I am sorry we are to separate : but as for me, no other course was open ; and as to you, with all your indepen- dence from fortune, and with all your family influence to push your promotion, the time is not very distant when you will begin to feel the life you are leading vapid and tiresome. You ■will long for an excitement more vigorous aud more healthy in its character ; and then, my boy, my dearest hope is, that we may be thrown once more together." Had my friend been able at the moment to have looked into the secret recesses of^my heart, and read there my inmost thoughts, he could not more perfectly have depicted my feelings, nor pictured the impressions, that, at the very moment he spoke, were agitating my mind. The time he alluded to had indeed arrived. The hour had come, when I wished to be a soldier in more than the mere garb : but with that wish came linked another even stronger still; and this was, that, before I went on services. I should once more see Louisa Bellew, explain to her the nature aud extent of my attachment to her, and obtain, if possible, some pledge on her part that, with the dis- tinction I hoped to acquire I should look to the j^ossession of her love as my reward and my recompense. Young as I was, I felt ashamed at avowing to O'Grady the rapid progress of my passion. I had not courage to confess upon what slight encouragement X built my hopes, and, at the same time, was JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 125 abashed at being compelled to listen tamely to his prophecy, when the very thoughts that flashed across me would have indicatetl my resolve. While I thus maintained an awkward silence, be once more resumed. " jMoau while, JacL', you can serve me, and I shall make no apologies for enlisting you. You've beard me speak of this great Longhrea steeple-chase : now, somehow or other, with my usual ]>ruiJence, I have gone on adding wager to wager, until at last I find m3\self with a book of some eight hundred pounds— to lose which at a moment like this, I need not sa)% would almost ruin all my plans. To be free of the transaction, I this morning oflx-rcd to pay half forfeit, and they refused mo. Yes, Hinton, they knew every man of them the position I stood in. They saw that not only my prospects, but my honour, was engaged; that before a week I should be far away, without any power to control, without any means to observe them ; they knew well that, thus circumstanced, I must lose; and if I lost, I must sell my commission, and leave the army beggared in character and in furlune." " And now, my dear friend," said I, interrupting, " how happens it that you bet with men of this stamp ? I understood you it was a friendly match, got up at a dinner party." " Even so, Jack. The dinner was in my own rooms, the claret mine, the men my friends. You may smile, but so the world is pleased to call those with whom from day to day we associate, with no other bond of union than the similarity of a pursuit which has nothing more re])rchensible in it than the character of the intimacies it engenders. Yes, Hinton, these are my sporting friends, sipping my wine while they plot my wretchedness. Conviviality with them is not the hapj)y abandonment to good fellowship and enjoyment, but the season of cold and studied calculation — the hour when, unexcited themselves, they trade upon the unguarded and unwary feelings of others. They know how imperative is the code of honour as regards a bet, and they make a virtue to themselves in the un- flinching firmness of their exaction, as a cruel judge would seek applause for the stern justice with which he condemns a felon. It is iisual, however, to accept half forfeit in circumstances like these of mine : the condition did not happen to be inserted, aird they rejected my oflFer." " Is this possible," said I, " and that these men call them- selves your friends? " " Yes, Jack ; a betting book is like Shylock's bond, and the holder of one pretty much about as merciful as the worthy Israelite. But come, come: it is but boyish weakness in one like me to complain of these things : nor, ind' e,l, would 1 s eak 130 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. of them now, but with the hope that my words may prove a warning to you, while they serve to explain the service I look for from you, and give you some insight into the character of those with whom you'll have to deal." "Only tell me," said I, "only explain, my dear O'Grady, what I can do, and how : it is needless for me to say I'm ready." " I thought as much : now listen to me. When I made this unlucky match it was, as I have said, over a dinner party, when, excited by wine and carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, I made a proposition which, with a calmer head, I should never have ventured. For a second or two it was not accepted, and Mr. Burke, of whom you've heard me speak, called out from the end of the table, ' A sporting offer, by Jove ! and I'll ride for you myself.' This I knew was to give me one of the first horsemen in Ireland ; so, while filling my glass, I nodded, to him, and accepted his offer, I cried out, 'Two to one against any horse named at this moment.' The words were not spoken when I was taken up, at both sides of the table ; and as I leaned across to borrow a pencil from a friend, I saw that a smile was curling every lip, and that Burke himself endeavoured with his wine glass to conceal the expression of his face. I needed no stronger proof that the whole match had been a preconcerted scheme between the parties, and that I had fallen into a snare h^id purposely to entrap me. It was too late, however, to retract — I booked my bets, drank my wine, congeed my frierds, went to bed, and woke the next morning to feel myself a dupe. But come. Jack; at this rate, I shall never have done. The match was booked, the ground chosen, Mr. Burke to bo my jockey, and, in fact, everything arranged, when, what was my surprise, my indignation, to find that the horse I destined for the race (at that time m possession of a friend) was bought up for five hundred, and sent off to England. This disclosed to me how completely I was entrapped. ISTothing remained for me then but to purchase one which off'ered at the moment, and this one, I've told you already, has the pleasant reputation of being the most wicked devil and the hardest to ride in the whole west: in fact, except Burke him- self, nobody would mount him on a road, and as to crossing a country with him, even he, they say, has no fancy for it. In any case, he made it the ground of a demand which I could not refuse — that, in the event of my winning, he was to claim a third of the stakes. At length the horse is put in training, improves every hour, and matters seem to be taking a favour- able turn. In the midst of this, however, the report reaches me, as you heard yourself yesterday morning, that Burke will not ride : however I affected, to discredit it at the moment, I had yACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 131 groat difficulty to preserve the appearance of calm. 'I'his morning settles the question by this letter: "' Dear Si«, — A friendly hint has just reached me that I am to In! ancsted on the morning of lln' Loughroa race for a trilie of a hundred ami ciL^litt'L-n puumls and some odd shillings. If it Piiits your convenience to pay the money, or enti-r into biiil for the amount, I'll be very happy to ride your horse; for, although I don't care for a double ditcli, I've no fancy to take the wall of the county gaol, even on the back of as good a horse as Moddidediroo. — Yours truly, " ' UucK Burke. " 'Wednesday I\roriiing, Red House.' " " "Well,'' said I, as, after some difficulty, I spelled through this ill-written and dirty epistle, "and what do you mean to do her.' ? " " If you ask me," said Phil, " what I'd like to do, I tell you fairly it would be to horsewhip my friend Mr. Burke as a pre- liminary, pay the stakes, withdraw my horse, and cut the whole concern; but my present position is, unhappily, opposed to each of these steps. In the first place, a rencontre with Burke would do me infinite disservice at the Horse Guards, and as to the payment of eight hundred pounds, I don't think I could raise the money, without someone would advance five hundred of it for a mortgage on Corny Delany. But to be serious, Jack, and, as time passes, I must be serious, I believe the best way on this occasion is to give Burke the money (for as to the bill, that's an invention) ; but, as I must start to-night for England, and the aifair will require some manaiiement, 1 must put the whole matter into your hands, with full instructions how to act" " I am quite ready, and willing," said I, " only give me the ' carlo- (In pdijs.' " " Well, then, my boy, you'll go down to Loughrea for me, the day before the race, establish yourself as quietly as you can in tlie hotel, and, as the riders must be named on the day before the running, contrive to see Mr. Burke, and inform him that his de- mand will be complied with. Have no delicacy with him, it is a mere money question ; and although, by the courtesy of the turf, he is a gentleman, yet there is no occasion to treat hiui with more of ceremony than is due to yourself in your negotiation. This letter contains the sum ho mentions. In addition to that, I have enclosed a bank cheque for whatever you like to give him ; only remember one thing, Hintou--7te must ride, and I must win." All the calmness with which O'Grady had hitherto spoken deserted him at this moment; his face became scarlet, his brow 132 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. •was bent, and his lip quivered with passion, while, as he walked the room with hurried stejjs he muttered between his teeth — " Yes, though it cost my last shilling, I'll win the race. They thought to ruin me ; the scheme was deeply laid and well planned too, but they shall fiul. No, Hinton," resumed he in a louder tone; " no, Hinton ; believe me, poor man that I am, this is not with me a question of so many pounds : it is the wounded 'anwur 'jiropre ' of a man who, all through his life held out the right hand of fellowship to those very men wh) now conspire to be his ruin. And such, my dear boy, such, ior the most part, are the dealings of the turf. I do not mean to fiay that men of high honour and unblemished integrity are not foremost in the encouragement of a sport which, from its bold and manly character, is essentially au English one ; but this I would assert, that probity, truth, and honour, are the gifts of but a very small number of those who make a traitic ot the turf, and are, what the world calls, ' racing men : ' and oh ! how very hard the struggle, how nice the difficulty of him who makes these men his daily companions, to avoid the many artifices which the etiquette of the race-course permits, but which the feelings of a gentleman would reject as unfair and ■unworthy ! How contaminating that laxity of principle that admits of every stratagem, every trick, as legitimate, with the sole proviso that it be successful ! and what a position is it that admits of no alternative save being the dnpe or tha black-leg ! How hard for the young fellow entering upon life with all the ardour, all the unsuspecting freshness of youth about him, to stop short at one, without passing on to the other stnge! How difficult, with offended pride and wounded self-love, to find himself the mere tool of sharpers ! How very difficult to check the indignant spirit, that whispers retaliation by the very arts by which he has been cheated! Is not such a trial as tnis too much for any boy of twenty ? and is it not to be feared that, in the estimation he sees those held in whose blackguardism is their pre-eminence, a perverted ambition to be what is called a sharp fellow, may sap and undermine every honourable I'eeling of the heart, break down the barriers of rigid truth and scru- pulous fidelity, teaching him to exult at what formerly he had blushed, and to recognise no folly so contemptible, as that o,^ him who believes the word of another ? Such a career as this has many a one pursued, abandoning bit by bit eveiy grace, every virtue, and every charm of his character, that, at the end, he should come forth a ' sporting gentleman.' " He paused for a few seconds, and then, turning towards me, added, in a voice tremulous from emotion, "And yet, my boy, to men like this I would now expose you! No, no. Jack ; I'll not do it. I care not what turn the thing may take ; I'll nob embitter my life JACK IIINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 133 witli this refif^ction." He seized the letter, and crushing it in his hiind, walked towards the window. " Come, come, O'Grady," said I, "this is not fair; you first draw a stronf^ ])icture of these men, and then you deem mo wculc enough to tall into their snares ; that would hardly say much for my judgment and good sense ; besides, you have htiiiuilated my curiosity, and I shall be sadly disappointed if I'm not to see them." "Be it so. Jack! " said he with a sigh ; " I shall give you a couple of letters to some friends of mine down there, and I know but one recompense you'll have for all the trouble and annnoyauce of this business — your jjretty friend, ^liss Bellew, is on a visit in the neighbourhood, and is certain to be at the race." ]lad O'Grady looked at me while he spoke he would have seen how deeply this intelligence affected me, while I, myself, could with dilliculty restrain the increased interest I now felt in all about the matter, questioning him on every par- ticular, inquiring into a hundred minute points, and, iu fact, dis|ilaying an ardour on the suliject that nothing short of my friend's pre-occupation could have failed in detecting the source of. My mind now ti.xed on one object, I could scarcely follow him in his directions as to travelling down, secrecy, &c. I heard something about the canal-boat, and some confused impression was on my mind about a cross-road and a jaunting- car; but the prospect of meeting Louisa, the hope of again being in her society, rendered me indifferent to all else; and as I thrust the letters he gave me into my coat pocket, and promised an implicit observance of all his directions, I should have been sorely puzzled had he asked me to repeat them. '' Now," continued O'Grady, at the end of about half-an- hour's rapid speaking, " I believe I've put you in possession of all the bearings of this case. You understand, I hope, the kind of men you have to deal with, and I trust Mr. Ulick Knrke is thoroughly known to you by this time?" " Oh, perfectly," said I, half mechanically. " "Well, then, my boy, I believe 1 had better sa}', good-bye : something tells me we shall meet ere long; meanwhile. Jack, you have my best wishes." He paused tor a moment and turned away his head, evidently affected, then added, " You'll •write to me soon, of course, and as that old fool. Corny, follows me in a week " " And is Corny going abroad ? " " Ay ! confound him, like the old man in Sindbad, there's no getting him off one's shoulders ; besides, he has a kind of superstition that he ought to close the eyes of tlie last of the family, and as he has frankly confessed to mo this morning 134 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. he knows I am in that predicament, lie esteems it a point of duty to accompany me. Poor fellow, with all his faults, I can't help feeling attached to him, and were I to leave him behind me, what would become of him ? No, Jack, I am fully sensible of all the inconvenience, all the ridicule of his step, but, faith, I prefer both, to the embittering reflection I should have, did I desert him." " Why does he remain after you, Phil ? — he'll never find his way to London." " Oh, trust him ! What ! with scolding, cursing, and abusing everyone he meets, he'll attract notice enough on the road never to be forgotten, or left behind; but the fact is, it is his own proposition, and Corny has asked for a few days' leave of absence, for the first time for seven-and-twenty years ! " "And what the deuce can that be for?" "You'd never guess if you tried until to-morrow — to see his mother.' ' " Corny's mother ! — Corny Delany's mother! " "Just so— his mother. Ah, Hinton ! you still have much to learn about us all here, and now, before we part, let me instruct you on this point; not that I pretend to have a reason for it, nor do I know that there is any, but somehow ril_ venture to say, that whenever yon meet with a little cross- grained, ill-conditioned ill-thriven old fellow, with a face as if carved in the knot of a cr;ib-tree, the odds are about fifteen to one that the little wretch has a mother alive ; whether it is that the tenacity of life among such people is greater, or whether nature has any peculiar objects of her own in view in the matter, I can't say, but trust me for the fact ; and now, I believe, I have run myself close to time, so once more, Jack, good-bye, and God bless you." He hurried from the room as he spoke, but as the door was closing I saw that his lip trembled and his cheek was pale, while I leaned against the window shutter and looked atter him with a heavy and ojipressed heart ; for he was my first friend in the world. CHAPTER XIX. T IT K CANAL 15 A T. In obedience to O'Grady's directions, of which, fortunately for me, he left a memorandum in writing, I started from Portobello in the canal boat on the afternoon of the day after JACK iriNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 135 Ins departure. The day was dark and lourinrr, with occasional showers of cold and sleety rain; however, the casual qlauce I took of the gloomy cell, denominated cabin, deterred me from seeking shelter there, and buttoned up in my great coat and with my travelling cap drawn firmly over my eyes. I walked the deck for several hours, my own tlioughls affording me suilicient occupation, and even had the opportunity presented itself, I should not have desired any other ; on this score, how- ever, there was no temptation, and as 1 looked at my fellow-pas- sengers, there was nothing, cither in their voice, air, or appear- ance, to induce nic to care for any closer intimacy. The .majority of them were stout, plain-looking country folk, with coats of brown or gray frieze, leather gaiters, and thick shoes, returning, as I could guess from some chance expressions they dropped, from the Dublin market, whither they had proceeded, with certain droves of bullocks, wethers, and hoggets, the qualities of which formed the stai)le of conversation ; there were also some lady passengers, one a rather good-looking woman, with a certain air of half gentility about her, \yhich enabled her at times to display to her companion her profound contempt for the rest of the company; this companion was a poor subdued-looking girl of about eighteen or twenty year.«, who scarcely ventured to raise her haggard eyes, and spoke with an accent painful from agitation ; her depressed look, and her hnmble manner, did not conceal, however, a certain air of composed and quiet dignity, which spoke of happier days. A host of ill-bred, noisy, and unmannerly children accompanied them, and I soon discovered that the mother was the wife of the great shopkeeper in Loughrea, and her pale companion a governess she had just procured in Dublin, to initiate the promising offspring in the accomplislied acquirements of French and Italian, music, and painting ; their only acquaint- ance on board seemed to be a jolly-looking man, who, although intimate with everyone, seemed, somehow, not to suffer in the grand lady's esteem from the familiarities he dispensed on all sides. He was a short, ilorid-looking, little fellow, with a round bullet head, the features of which seemed, at first sight, so incongruous that it was difficult to decide on their prevailing expression ; his large grey eyes, which rolled, and twinkled with fun, caught a character of severity from his heavy overhanging eyebrows, and there was a stern determination in his compressed lips that every moment gave way to some burst of jocular good humour, as he accosted one or other of his friends; his voice, however, was the most remarkable thing about him, for while at one moment he would declaim in the full round tone of a person accustomed to speak in public, in the next he would drop down into an easy and familar accent, to which the mellowness of his brogue imparted a raciness quite peculiar. 136 "^ACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. His dress was a suit of rusty black, with leather breeches of ihe same colour, and high boots : this costume, which pronounced him a priest, might also, had I known more of the country, have . explained the secret of that universal understanding he raain- lained with all on board; he knew every one's business, whither they were going, where they had been, what success had attended them in the market, how much the black heifer brought, what the pigs were sold for ; he asked why Tim didn't come to his duties, and if Molly's child was well of the measles ; — he had a word too for the shopkeeper's wife, but that was said in a whisper; and then producing a copper snuff-box, about the size of a saucer, he presented it to me with a gracful bow, saying, " This is not the first time I have had the honour of being your fellow-traveller. Captain. We came over from Liverpool together." I now remembered that this was the same priest whose con- troversial powers had kept me awake for nearly half the night, and whose convivial ones filled up the remainder. I was de- lighted, however, to renew my acquaintance, and we soon cemented an intimacy, which ended in his proposing that we should sit together to dinner, to which I at once assented. " Dacent people, dacent people, captain : but bastes, after all, in the ways of the world ; none of the iisage de societe, as we used to say at St. Omer's. No, no ; fera nature, devil a more ; but here comes the dinner: the owld story, — leg of mutton and turnips — boiled chickens and ham — a cod and potatoes ! by the mass, they would boil one's father if they had him on board," while he added in a whisper — "by rason they can't roast; so now, will you move down, if you please." " After your reverence ; if you'll permit. Anna cedant for/(C.'" "Thrue for you, my son, sacerdotrs 2mores ; and though I am only a priest " " More's the pity," said I interrupting " You're right,"_ said, he with a slight pinch of my arm, " whether you ai-e joking or not." The dinner was not a veiy appetizing one — nor indeed the company over seductive, so that I disappeared with the cloth, glad to find myself once more in the open air, with the deck to myself: for my fellow-travellers had, one and all, begun a very vigorous attack upon sundry jugs of hot water, and crucibles, full of whiskey, the fumes of which, added to the heat, the smoke, and other disagreeables, made me right happy to escape. As the evening wore late, the noise and uproar grew louder and more vociferous, and had not frequent bursts of laughter pro- claimed the spirit of the conviviality, I should have been tempted to believe the party were engaged in deadly strife. Sometimes a single narrator would seem to hold the company in attentive silence — then a general chorus of the whole would JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 137 break in, with shouts of merriment, knocking of knuckles on the table, stamping of feet, and other signs of approbation and applause. As this had now continued for some time, and it was already verging towards midnight, I began to grow im* patient, for as sleep stole over my eyelids, I was desirous of some little quiet, to indulge myself iu a nap. Blessings on my innocent delusion, — the gentlemen below stairs had as much notion of swimming as .sleeping. Of this, a rapid glance through a little window, at the e.xtremity of the cabin, soon BatisHed me. As well as the steamed and heated glass would permit my seeing, the scene was a strange one. About forty persons were seated iround a narrow table, so closely packed that any attitude, but the bolt upright, was impracticiible; there they were, of every age and sex ; some asleep, with ^Velsh wigs and red pocket-handkerchiefs, screening their heads from cold, and their ears as well as might be from ujiroar ; some were endeavouring to read by the liglit of mutton candles, with wicks like a light infantry feather, with a nob at the head; others, with their heads bent down together, were confidentially exchanging the secrets of the last market; while here and there were scattered about little convivial knots of jolly souls, whose noisy fnn, and loud laughter, indicated but slight respect for their drowsy neighbours. I'he group, however, which attracted most of my attention was one near the tire at the end : this consisted of his reverence, Father Tom, a stout, builey-looking old farmer opposite him, the austere lady from Loughrea, and a little dried-up, potted- herring ot a man, who, witli a light brown coat and standing collar, sat up perpendicularly on his seat, and looked about him with an eye as lively, and au accent as sharp, as though it were only noon-day. This little personage, who came from that Irish Pensylvania called Moate, was endeavouring to maintain a controversy with the worthy priest, who, iu addition to his polemics, was deep in a game of spoiled hve with the farmer and carrying on besides another species of warfare with his fair neighbour. The diversity of all these occupations might pos- sibly liave been overmuch for him, were it not for the aid of a suspicious-looking little kettle, that sat hissing and rocking on the hob with a look of pert satisfaction, that convinced me its contents were something stronger than water. Perceiving a small space yet unoccupied in the party, I made my way thither by the stair near it, and soon had the satisfac- tion to find myself safely installed, without attracting any other notice from the party than a proud stare from the lady, as she removed a little farther from beside the priest. As to his reverence, far too deeply interested in his immediate jiursuits to pay any attention to me, he had quite enough on his hands with his three antagonists, none of whom did he ever 138 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. for a moment permitto edge in even aword. Conducting his varied warfare with the skill of a general, who made the artillery, the infantry, and the calvary of mutual aid, and assistance to each other, he continued to keep the church, the courtship, and the cards, all moving together, in a manner perfectly miraculous. The vehemence with which he thumped down a trump upon the table serving as a point in his argument, while the energy of the action permitted a squeeze of the lady's hand with the other. " There ye go, six of spades. Play a spade, av ye have one, Mr. Larkins For a set of shrivelled up craytures, with nothing but thee, and thou, for a creed, to deny the real onld ancient faith, that Saint Peter and the ace of diamonds ; ^// a/! tickled you under the short ribs — not you, Mrs. Carney — i'or a sore time you have of it ; and an angel of a woman ye are ; and the husband that could be cruel to you, and take — The odd trick out of you, Mr. Larkins. Ko, no, I deny it — nego iii onoiihus, Domiiie. What does Origen say.P The rock, says he, is Peter; and if you translate the passage without Another kettle-full, if you please. I go for the ten, Misther Larkins. Trumps ! another — another — hurroo I By the tower of Clonmacnoise, Pil beggar the bank to-night. Malli ereu.v au jevx, heurctix en amour, as we used to say formerly. God forgive us ! " Whether it was the French, or the look that accompanied it, I cannot aver, but, certainly, the lady blushed and looked down. In vain did the poor Quaker essay a word of explanation. — In vain did Mrs. Carney herself try to escape from the awkard inferences some of his allusions seemed to lead to. Even the old farmer saw his tricks confiscated, and his games estreated, without a chance ox recovery : for, like Coeur de Lion with his iron mace, the good priest laid about him, smashing, slaying, and upsetting all before him, and never giving his adversaries a moment to recover Irom one blow, ere he dealt another, at their heads. " To be sure, Mrs. Carney, and why not.^^ it's as mild as mother's milk. Come, ould square-toes, take a thimble-full of it, and maybe it'll lead you to a better understanding. I play the five fingers, Mr. Larkins. There goes Jack, my jewel. Play to that — the trick is mine. Don't be laughing, I've a bit of fat in the heel of my list for you yet. There Jiow, what are you looking at ? Dun't you see the cards ? Troth, you're as bad as the Quaker, you won't believe your own eyes; and ye see, ma'am" — here he whispered something in the lady's ear for a few seconds, adding, as he concluded — " and thim, IMrs. Carney, thini's the rights of the' Church. Friends, indeed ! ye call yourselves friends ! faix, ye're the least social friends I ever forgathered with, even ■;.lie bare look of yon wasn't an antidote to all kinds of amuse- JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 239 mcnts Cut, Mr. Larkins And its purgatory ye don't like. Ye know what Father O'Leary saiJ — some of ye may go farther and fare worse — not to speak of what a place hcaveti would be. with the likes of you in it. Av it was Mrs. Carney, indeed. Yes, IMary, your own beautiful self, that's iit to be an angel aiiyday, and discourse witli angels Ilowld, av you pleiise, I've a club for that Don't you see what nonsense you're talking, the little kittle is laughing at you What's that you're mumbling, about my time of life? Show me the man that'll carry twelve tumblers with me — show me the man that'll cross a country — show me the man that'll Never mind, Mrs. Carney Time of life, indeed ! Faix, I'll give you A\'ith these words, the priest pushed the cards aside, replen- ished the glasses, and began the following melody to au air much resembling Sir Eoger de Coverley. "To morrow I'll just be threescore ; I\hiy never worse fortune betiJe me, TIj.ui to have a hot tumbler before, And a beautiful crayture beside me. If this world's a stage, as they say. And that men are tlie actors, I'm certain, In the after-piece I'd like to play, And be there at the fall of the curtain. \Yback ! fol lol." "No, no, Mrs. Carney, I'll take the vestment on it, nothing of the kind — the allusion is most discreet — but there is more." " For the pleasures of youtb are a flam ; To try them again, i ray excuse me ; I'd rather be priest that I am, With the rights of the Cimrch to amuse mc. Sure there's nought like a jolly old age, And the patriarchs knew this, it .said is ; For though they looked sober and sage, J'aith they had there own fun w ith the ladies ! Whack 1 fol lol." " Come now. captain, you are a man that knows his hunianities; I'll be judged by you." *' I ]irotest," said I, laughingly, "I'd rather pronounce ou your punch than your polemics." " No, would you though ? " said the priest, with a joyous twinkle in his eye, that showed which controversy had more at- traction for him. Faix, then, you shall have a fair trial, lieach me that glass, Mr. Larkins ; and if it isn't sweet enough, maybe Mrs. Carney would stir it for you with her finger. There now, I40 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. we'll be comfortable and social, and. have no more bother about creeds, nor councils ; for although it is only child's play for me to demolish a hundred like you, I'd rather be merciful, and leave you, like Alexander the coppersmith, to get the reward of your works." Whether it ^t^as the polite attention bestowed upon me by his reverence, or that the magical word " Captain," so generic for all things military in Ireland, had its effect, or that any purely personal reasons were the cause, I cannot aver; but, certainly, Mrs. Carney's manner becam. wonderfully softened. She smiled at me slyly, when the priest wasn't looking, and vouchsafed an inquiry, as to whether 1 had ever served in the Eoscommon yeomanry. The kettle once more sent forth its fragrant steam, the glasses were filled, the vanquished Quaker had extinguished both him- self and his argument beneath his broad beaver; and Father Tom, with a glance of pleasure at the party, pronounced our arrangements perfect, and suggested a round game, by way of passing the time. " We are now," said he, "on the long level for eighteen miles; there's neither a lock nor a town to disturb us. Give Mrs. Carney the cards. The proposition was met with hearty approval : and thus did I, Lieutenant Hinton, of the Grenadier Guards, extra aide-de- camp to the viceroy, discover myself at four in the morning en- gaged at a game of loo, whose pecuniary limits were fourpence, but whose boundaries as to joke, and broad humour, were wide as the great Atlantic. Day broke, and I found myself richer by some tumbler of the very strongest whitskey punch, a con- founded headache, and two-and-eightpence in bad copper jingling in my pocket. CHAPTER XX. SHANNON II A K S U R . Little does he know, who voyages in a canal-boat, dragged along some three miles and a half per hour, ignominiously at the tails of two ambling hackneys, what pride, jiomp, and cir- cumstance await him at the first town ho enters. Seated on tlie deck, watching with a Ducthmau's apathy the sedgy banks,, whose tall Haggers bow their heads beneath the ripple that eddies from the bow: now lifting his eyes from earth to sky, with nothing to interest, nothing to attract him ; turning from the gaze of the long dreary tract of bog and moorland, to look u]ion his fellow-travellers, whose features are perhaps neither JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 141 more striking nor more pleasing— the monotonous jog of the j)ostillion before, tlio impassive placidity of the helmsman behind —the lazy smoke that seems to luck energy, to issue from the littlo chimney — the brown anrl leaden look of all around — have something dreamy and sleep-compelling, almost impossible to resist. And. already, as the voyager droops his head, and lets fall his eyelids, a confused and misty sense of some everlasting journey, toilsome, tedious, and slow, creeps over his besotted faculties; when suddenly the loud bray of tiie horn breaks upon his ears — the sound is re-echoed from a distance — the far-off tinkle of a bell is borne along the water, and he sees before him, as if conjured up by some magician's wand, the roofs and chimneys of a little village. IMcanwhile, the excitement about him increases: the deck is lumbered with hampers, and boxes, and parcels — the note of departure to many a cloaked and frieze-coated passenger has rung ; for strange as it may seem, in that little assemblage of mud hovels, with their dung-hills and their duck-pools around them, with its one-slated house and its square chapel — yet there are people who live there; and, stranger still, some of those who have left it, and seen other places, are going back there again, to drag on- life as before. But the plot is thickening: the large brass bell at the stern of the boat is thundering away with its clanging .sound ; the banks are crowded with people ; and as if to favour the melo-dramatic magic of the scene, the track-rope is cast off, the weary posters trot away towards their stable, and the stately barge floats on, to its destined haven, without the aid of any visible influence. He who watches the look of jiroud important bearing that beams upon " the captain's" face at a moment like this, may philoso- hize upon the charms of that power which man wields above is fellow-men; such, at least, were some of my reflections — and I could not help muttering to myself, if a man like this feel pride of station, what a glorous service must be the navy. Watching, with interest, the nautical skill with which, having fastened a rope to the stern, the boat was swung round, with her head in tlie lUrectiou from whence she came, intimating thereby the monotonous character of her avocations, I did not perceive that one by one the passengers were taking their departure. " Good-bye, captain," cried Father Tom] as he extended his ample hand to me ; " we'll meet again in Loughrea. I'm going on Mrs. Carney's car, or I'd be delighted to join you in a con- veyance, but you'll easily get one at the hotel." I had barely time to thank the good father for his kind advice, when I perceived him adjusting various duodecimo Carneys in the well of the car, and then having carefully in- cluded himself in the frieze coat that wrapt Mrs. Carney— he gave the word to drive on. I 142 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. As the day following was the time appointed for naming the horses and the riders, I had no reason for haste. Loaghrea, from what I had heard, was a common-jjlace country town, in which, as in all similar places, every new comer was canvassed with a prying and searching curiosity. I resolved, therefore, to stop where I was ; not, indeed that the scenery possessed any attractions: a prospect more bleak, more desolate, and more barren, it would be impossible to conceive — a wide river with low and reedy banks, moving sluggishly on its yellow current, between bi*oad tracts of bog or callow meadow-land ; no trace of cultivation, not even a tree was to be seen. Such is Shannon Harbour. No matter, thought I, the hotel at least looks well. This consolatory reflection of mine was elicited by the pospect of a large stone building of some stories high, whose gi-anite portico and wide steps stood in strange contrast to the miserable mud hovels that flanked it on either side. It was a strange thought to have placed such a building in such a situation. I dismissed the ungrateful notion, as I re- membered my own position, and how happy I felt to accept its hospitality. A solitary jaunting-car stood on the canal side — the poorest specimen of its class I had ever seen ; the car — a few boards cobbled up by some country carpenter — seemed to threaten dis- union even with the coughing of the wretched beast that wheezed between its shafts, while the driver, an emaciated creature of any age from sixteen to sixty, sat shivering upon the seat, striking from time to time with his whip at the flies that played about the animal's ears, as though anticipating their prey. " Banagher, yer honour. Loughrea, sir. Rowl j-e over in an hour and a half. Is it Portumna, sir ? " " No, my good friend," replied I, " I stop at the hotel." Had I i^roposed to take a sail down the Shannon on my port- manteau, I don't think the astonishment could have been greater. The bystanders, and they were numerous enough by this time, looked from one to the other, with expressions of mingled sur- prise and dread ; and indeed had I, like some sturdy kniglit errant of old, announced my determination to pass the night in a l)aunted chamber, more unequivocal evidences of their ad- miration and fear could not have been evoked. " In the hotel," said one. " He is going to stop at the hotel," cried another. "Blessed hour," said a third, "wonders will never cease. " Short as had been my residence in Ireland, it had at least taught me one lesson — never to be surprised at anything I met with. So many views of life peculiar to the laud met me at every turn — so many strange prejudices— so many singular notions,that •were I to apply my previous knowledge of the world, such as it JACK HI NT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. 143 was, to my guidance here, I sliould br like a man endeavouring to snuml ilie depths ut tlie sen witli an instruiiiciit intended to ascertain tlie distance of a star. Lcavinff, tlicrefore, to time the exphinatiou of the mysterious astonishment around me, I gathered together my baggage, and left the boat. The first impressions of a traveller are not uncommonly his best. The finer and more distinctive features of a land require deep study and long acquaiutanco, but the broader traits ol nationality are caught iu an instant, or not caught at all. Familiarity with, destroys them, and it is only at first blush that we learn to appreciate them with force. A\'ho that has landed at Calais, at Eotterdam, or at Leghorn, has not felt this .^ The Flemish peasant, with her long-eared cap and heavy sabots — the dark Italian, basking his swarthy features in the sun, arc striking objects when we first look on them. But days and weeks roll on, the wider characteristics of human nature swallow up the smaller and more narrow features of nationality, and in a short time we forget that the things which have sur- prised us at first are not what we have been used to from our infancy. Gifted with but slender powers of observation, such as they were, this was to me always a moment of their exercise. How often in the rural districts of my own country had the air of cheery comfort, and healthy contentment, spoken to my heart ; how frequently, in the manufacturing ones, had the din of hammers, the black smoke, or the lurid flame of furnaces, turned my thoughts to thi se great sources of our national wealth, •and made me look on every dark and swarthy face that passed, as on one who ministered to his country's weal. But now I was to view a new, and very different scene. Scarcely had I put foot on shore when the whole population of the village thronged around me. What are these, thought I ? AVhat art do they practise .^ What trade do they profess? Alas! their wan looks, their tattered garments, their outstretched hands, and imploring voices, gave the answer— they were all beggars! It was not as if the old, the decrepit, the sickly, or the feeble, had fallen on the charity of their fellow-men in their hour of need; but here were all — all — the old man and the infant, the husband and the wife, the aged grandfather and the tottering grandchild, the white locks of youth, the whiter hairs of age — pale, pallid, and sickly — trembling between starvation and suspense, watching with the hectic eye of fever, every gesture of him on whom their momentary hope was fixed ; canvassing, iu muttered tones, every step of his proceeding, and hazarding a doubt upon its bearing on their own fate. " Oh ! the heavens be your bed, noble gentleman, look at me, The Lord reward you for the little sixpence that you have in your fingers there. I'm the mother of ten of them." 144 JACK niNTUN, THE GUARDSMAN. " Billy Croiiin, yei* honour, I'm dark since I was nine years old." "I'm tlie ouldest man in ihe town-land," said an old fellow with a white beard, and a })lanket strapped round him. While bursting throngh the crowd, came a strange odd-looking figure, in a hnntsman's coat and cap, but both so patched and tattered, it was ditKcult to det-ect their colour. " Here's Joe, your honour," cried he, putting his hand to his mouth at the same moment. "Tally ho! ye ho ! ye ho ! " he shouted, with :i mellow cadence I never heard surpassed. " Yow ! yow ! yow ! '' he cried, imitating the barking of dogs, and then uttering a long low wail, like the bay of abound, he shouted out, " Hark away ! hark away ! " and at the same moment pranced into the thickest of the crowd, upsetting men, women, and children, as he went : the curses of some, the cries of others, aud the laughter of nearly all, ringing through the motley mass, maldng their misery look still more frightful. Throwing what silver I had about me amongst them, I made mv way towards the hotel, not alone, however, but heading a procession ot my rugged friends, who with loud praises of my liberality, testified their gratitude by bearinsr me company. Arrived at the porch, T took my luggage from the carrier, and entered the house. Unlike any other hotel I had ever seen, there was neither stir nor bustle, no l>ur]y landlord, no buxom land- lady, no dapper waiter with napkin on his arm, no pert-looking chambermaid with a bed-ronin candlestick. A large hall, dirty, and unfurnished, led into a kind of bar, upon whose unpainted shelves a few straggling bottles were ranged togethei', with some pewter measures and tobacco pipes ; wliile the walls were covered with placards, setting forth the regulations for the " Grand Canal Hotel," with a list, copious and abundant, of all the good things to l;e found therein, with the prices annexed ; and a pressing entreaty to the traveller, should he not feel satisfied with his reception, to mention it in a " book kept for that purpose by the landlord.'' I cast my eye along the bill of fare, so ostenta- tiously put forth — I read of rump steaks and roast- fowls, of red rounds and sirloins, and I turned from the spot resolved to explore further. The room ojiposite was large and spacious, and ])robably destined for the cotiee-room, but ]t also was empty ; it had neither chair nor table, and save a pictorial representation of a canal-boat, drawn by some native artist with a burnt stick upon the wall, it had no decoration. Having amused myself with the " Lady Caher," such was the vessel called, I again set forth on my voyage of discovery, aud bent my steps towards the kitchen. Alas! my success was no bet'er there — the goodly grate, before which should have stood some of that luscious fare of which I had been reading, was cold and deserted ; in one corner, it was true, three sods of earth, scarce lighted, sup- yACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 145 porU'tl iiu antiquated kettle, whose twisted spout was turned up with !i misaiithr<>])ic curl at the misery of its existence. I ascoiidfd the stairs, my footsteps rchu' d alonor tlie silent CTirridor, but still n(» trace of human haliitant could I see, and 1 bc^an to believe that eteu the landlord had departed with the lartlcr. At this moment the low murmur of voices caught my ear. I listened, and could distinctly catch the sound of persons talking together, at the end ot the corridor. Following along this, I came to a, door, at which having knocked twice with my knuckles, T waited for the invitation to enter. Either indis- posed to admit me, or not having heard my summons, they did not reply ; so tinning the handle gently, I opened the door, and entered the room unobserved. For some minutes I profited but little by this step ; the apartment, a small one, was literally full of smoke, and it was only when 1 had wiped the tears from my eyes three times that I at length began to recognize the obiects belore me. Seated \\\)on two low stools, beside a miserable fire of green wood, that smoked, not bla/.cd upon tlie hearth, were a man and a woman. Between them a small and rickety table supported a tea equipage of the humblest description, and a plate of fish whose odour ]ironounced them red herrings. Of the man I could see but little, as his back was turned toward me, but had it been otherwise, I could scarcely have withdrawn my looks from the figure of his companion. Never had my eyes fallen on an object so strange and so unearthly. She was an old woman, so old, indeed, as to have uuiubered nearly a hundred years ; her head uncovered by cap, or quoif, displayed a mass of white hair that hung down her back and shoulders, and even partly across her face, not sufficiently, however, to conceal two dark orbits, within which her dimmed eyes faintly glimmered ; her nose was thin and jiointed, and projecting to tlie very mouth, which, drawn backwards at the angles by the tense muscles, wore an expression of hideous laughter. Over her coarse dress of some country stuff she wore, for warmth, the cast-off coat of a soldier, giving to her uncouth figure the sem- blance of an aged baboon at a village-show. Her voice, broken with coughing, was a low feeble treble, that seemed to issue from ])assages where lingering life had left scarce a trace of vitality; and yet she talked on, without ceasing, and moved her skinny fingers among the teacups, and knives ujion the table, with a fidgety restlessness, as though in search of some- thing. "There, acushla, don't smoke, don't now: sure it is the ruin t)f your complexion. 1 never see boys take to tobacco this way when 1 was young." "Whibht, luother, aud don't be bothering me," was the 146 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. cranky reply given in a voice wliicli, strange to say, was not quite unknown to me. "Ay, ay," said the old crone; "always the same, never mindin' a word I say; and maybe in a few years I won't be to the fore to look after you and watch you." Here the painful thought of leaving a world, so full of its seductions, and sweets, seemed too much for her feelings, and she began to cry. Her companion, however, appeared but little afi'ected, but puffed away his pipe at his ease, waiting with patience till the paroxysm was past. " There, now," said the old lady, brightening up; " take away the tay-things, and you may go and take a run on tlie common; but mind you don't be pelting Jack Moore's goose, and take care of Bryan's sow, she is as wicked as the divil, now that she has boneens after her. D'ye hear me, darliu', or is it sick you are? Och ! wiri-a ! wirra ! What's the matter with you, Corny mabouchal ? " " Corny," exclaimed I, forgetful of my incognito. " Ay, Corny, nayther more nor less than Corny himself," said that redoubted personage, as rising to his legs, he deposited his pipe upon the table, thrust his hands into his pockets, and seemed prepared to give battle. " Oh, Corny," said I, " I am deliglited to find you here. Perhaps you can assist me. I thought this was an hotel." "And why wouldn't you think it an hotel.'' hasn't it a bar and a coffee-room ? — Isn't the regulations of the house printed, and stuck up on all the walls ? — Ay, that's what the directors did — put the price on everything, as it' one was going to cheat the people. And signs on it, look at the place now — ugh ! the Haythens! the Turks!" "Yes indeed, Corny, look at the place now ; " glad to have an opportunity to chime in with my fi'iend's opinions. "Well, and look at it," replied he, bristling up, "and what have you to say agin it ? isn't it the Grand Canal Hotel ? " " Yes ; but," said I, conciliatingly, " an hotel ought at least to have a landlord, or a landUidy." " And what do you call my mother there ? " said he, with indignant energy. " Don't bate Corny, sir! don't strike the child!" screamed the old woman, in an accent of heart-rending terror. " Sure he doesn't know what he is saying." " He is telling me it isn't the Grand Canal Hotel, mother," shouted Corny, in the old lady's ears, while at the same moment he burst into a iit of most discordant laughter. By some strange sympathy the old woman joined in, and I myself, unable to resist the ludicrous effect of a scene whicli still had tonrhed my feelings, gave way also, and thus we all three laughed on for several minutes. ' JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 147 Suddenly recovering himself in tlie midst of his cachinnations, Corny turned briskly round, iixcd his fiery eyes upon me, and said, — "And did you come all the way from town to laugh at my mother and me ? " I hastened to exonerate myself from such a charge, and in a few words informed him of the object of my journey, whither I was going, and under what [jaiuful delusion I laboured, in oup- posing the internal arrangements of the Grand Canal Hotel bore any relation to its imi^osing exterior. " I thought I could have dined here? "' "No, you can't," was the reply, "av ye're not fond of herrins." "And had a bed too ? " " Nor that either, av j'e don't like straw." " And has your mother nothing better than that?" said I, pointing to tlie miserable plate offish. " Whisht, I tell you, and don't be putting the like in her head : sometimes she hears as well as you or me " — here he droi)ped his voice to a whisper — " herrins is so cheap that we alwa3's make her believe it's lent — this is nine years now she's fasting ; " hero a fit of laughing at the success of this in- nocent "?'use," again broke from Corny, in which, as before, his mother joined. " Then what am I to do," asked I, " it I can get nothing to eat here ? Is there no other house in the village ? " " No, devil a one." " How far is it to Loughrea ? " " Fourteen miles and a bit." " I can get a car, I suppose ? " " Ay, if JNIary Doolan's boy is not gone back." The old woman, whose eyes were impatiently fixed upon me during this colloquy, but who heard not a word of what was going forward, now broke in. " Why doesn't he pay the bill and go away ? Devil a farthing I'll take off it. Sure av j^e were a raal gentleman ye'd be'giviu' a fippeiiny-bit to the gossoon there, that sarvod you. IS^ever mind, Corny dear, I'll buy a bag of marbles for you at Banagher." Fearful of once more giving way to imseasonable mirth I rushed from the xooxxi and hurried down stairs; the crowd that had so lately accomjianied me was now scattered, each to his several home. The only one who lingered near the door was the poor idiot (for such he was) that wore the huntsman's dress. _ " Is the Loughrea car gone, Joe ? " said I, for I remembered his name. " She is, yer honour, she's away." 148 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAI^. "Is there any means of getting over to-niglit? " " Barrin' walking, there's none." "Ay; but," said I, "were I even disposed for that, I have got my luggage." " Is it heavy ? " said Joe. " This portmanteau and the carpet-bag you see there." " I'll carry them," was the brief reply. " You'll not be able, my poor fellow," said I. " Ay, and you on the top of them." " You don't know how heavy I am," said I, laughingly. " Be gorra, I wish you was heavier." " And. why so, Joe." "Because one that was so good to the poor is worth his weight in goold any day." I do not pretend to say whether it was the flattery, or the promise these words gave me of an agreeable companion, en route ; but, certain it is, I at once closed with his proposal, and, with a ceremonious bow to the Grand Canal Hotel, took my departure, and set out for Loughrea. CHAPTER XXI. LOUGHREA. With the innate courtesy of his country, my humble companion endeavoured to lighten the road by song and story. There was not a blackened gable, not a ruined tower, not even a well we passed, without its legend. The very moun- tains themselves, that reared their mighty peaks towards the clouds, had their tale of superstitious horror ; and, though these stories were simple in themselves, there was some- thing in the association of the scene, something in the warm fervour of his enthusiasm that touched and thrilled my heart. Like a lamp, whose fitful glare flickers through the gloomy vault of some rocky cavern, too feeble to illumine it, but yet calling up wild and goblin shapes on every side, and peopling space with flickering spectres, so did the small modicum of intellect this poor fellow possessed enable him to look at life, with strange distorted views. Accustomed to pass his days in the open air — the fields, the flowers, the streams, his com- panions — hehada sympathy in the eddying current that flowed on beneath — in the white cloud that rolled above him; happy, for he had no care, he journeyed about from one county to another. In the hunting season he would be seen lounging about a kennel, making or renewing his intimacy with the JACK: HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 149 dogs, who knew and loved him ; then he was alsvays ready to cariT a draronounce for you ; it's rather beyond my English tongue; but I know that his colour's grey, and that he has one cropped ear." "That's Modirideroo ! " shouted Joe, as throwing my portmanteau to the ground, he seated himself leisurely on it, and seemed lost in raeilitation. " Begorra," said he at length, "he chose a good-tempered one, when he was about it; there never was such a horse ioaled in them parts. Ye heard what he did to Mr. Shea, the man that bred him ? he threw him over a wall, and then jumped after him, and if it wasn't that his guardian-angel made his leather breeches so strong, he'd have ate him up entirely. Sure, there's no one can ride him barriu' the man I was talking of." " Well, Joe, I believe Mr. Burke is to ride him." " Musha ! but I am sorry for it ! " " And why so ? you seem to think highly of his horsemanship." ''There's no misliking that, av it was fair; but then, you see, he has as many tricks in him as the devil. Sometimes he'll break his stirrup leather, or he'll come iu a pound too heavy, or he'll slip the snaffle out of the mouth ; for lie doesn't care for his neck. Once I see him stake his baste, and bring him in, dead lame." Here ended our conversation ; for by this time we entered the town, and jiroceeded to Mrs. Doolan's. The house was full, or the apartments bespoke ; and I was turning away in disappoint- ment, when I accidentlly overheard the landlady mention the two rooms ordered by Captain O'Grady. A little explanation ensued, and I discovered, to my delight, that these were destined for me by my friend, who had written some time before to secure them. A few minuitcs more saw me comfortably in- 152 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. stalled ill the little inn, whose unpretending exterior, and cheer- ful comfort within doors, were the direct antithesis to the solemn humbug I had left at Shannon Harbour. Under Joe's auspices— for he had estabhshed himself as my own man — tea and rashers made their appearance. My clothea were unpacked and put by ; and as he placed my dressing gown and slippers in readiness before the fire, I could not help observing the servant-like alacrity of his manner, perfect in evei'ythiug, save in his habit of singing to himself as he went, which I can't say, however, that I disliked, and certaingly never dreamed of checking. Having written a few lines to Mr. Burke, expressing my de- sire for a few minutes' interview the following morning, I des- patched the note, and prepared for bed. I had often listened with apathy to the wise saws of people who, never having felt either hunger or fatigue, are so fond of pronouncing a glowing eulogium on such luxuries, when the period of their gratification has arrived ; but, I confess, as I lay down that night in bed, and drew the clothes around me, I began to believe that they had underrated the pleasures they spoke of. The house clock ticked pleasantly in the room without; the cheerful turf fira threw its mild red light across the room ; the sounds from the street were those of happy voices and meri'y laughter, and when I ceased to hear them I had fallen into a sound and peaceful sleep. It was after about a dozen eftbrts, iu which I had gone through all the usual formula on such occasions — rubbing my eyes, stretching, and even pinching myself, before I could awake on the following morning. I felt somewhat stiffened from the unaccustomed exertions of the day before, but, somehow, ray spirits were unusually high, and my heart in its very lightest mood. I looked about me through the little room, where all was ordei*, neatness, and propriety. My clothes care- fully brushed and folded, my boots resplendent in their blacking, stood basking before the fire ; even my hat, placed gently on one side, with my gloves carefully flattened, were laid out in true valet fashion. The door into my little sitting-room lay open, and I could mark the neat and comfortable preparations for my breakfast, while at a little distant from the table, and in an attitude of patient attention, stood poor Joe himself, who, with a napkin across his arm, was quietly waiting the moment of my awaking. I know not if my reader will have any sympathy with the confession ; but, I own, I have always felt a higher degree of satisfaction from the unbought, and homely courtesy, chance has thrown in my way, than from the more practised, and dearly paid for attentions, of the most disciplined household. There is something flattering in the personal devotion which JACK II/XTOK, THE GUARDSMAN, 153 seems to spriiif^ from pure pood-will, that insonsihly raises one in their own esteem. In some such rellection as this was 1 lost, when the door of my outer room was opened, and a voice inquired if I\lr. Hintoii stopped there. "Yes, sir," replied .foe; " iie i-i in bed and asleep." " Ah ! it is 3'ou, Joe? " replied the other ; " so you are turned fo itman, I see. If the master be like the man, it oui,'ht to he a shn'wd establishment." '■ No," replied Joe, carelessly ; " he's not very like anything down in these parts ; for he appears to be a gentleman." " Tell him I am here, and be d d to yon," was the indiq;- nant reply, as the speaker threw himself into hio chair and stirred the lire with his fooL Suspecting at once who my visitor was, I motioned to Joe to leave the room, and proceeded to dress myself with all despatch. During the operation, however, my friend without mcanifested several symptoms of impatipnce : now walking the room with rapid strides, as he whistled a quick step ; now beating the bars of the grate with a poker; and occasionally performing that popular war dance, " the Devil's Tattoo," with his knuckles upon the table. At length his endurance seemed pushed to its length, and he knocked sharply at the door, calling out at the same moment, — ■ " I say, sir, time's up, if )'ou please." The ne.xt moment I was before him. j\lr. Ulick iiurke — for I need not say it was he — was a well- looking man, of about eight-andtwenty or thirty years of age. Although his height was below the middle size, he was power- fully and strongly made; his features would have been hand- some, were it not for a certain expression of vulgar suspicion that played about the eyes, giving him aside-long look when he spoke ; this, and the loss of two front teeth, iVom a fall, dis- figured a face originally pleasing. His whiskers were large, bushy, and meeting beneath his chin. As to his dress, it was in character with his calling, a green coat cut round in jockey fashion, over which he wore a white " bang-up," as it was called, in one pocket of which was carelessly thrust a lash whip; a belcher handkerchief, knotted loosely about his neck, buckskin breeches, reaching far down upon the leg.and top brotscomploted his costume. 1 had almost forgotten a hat, perhaps the most char- acteristic thing of all : this, which once had been white, was now, by stress of time and weather, of a dirty drab colour, its crown dinged in several places, and the leaf jagged and broken, bespoke the hard usage to which it was subjected. While speaking, he held it firmly clutched in his ungloved hand, and from time to time struck it against his thigh, with an energy of manner that seemed habitual. His manner was a mi.xture of timid embarrassment and vulgar assurance, 154 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. feeling his way, as it were witli one, while he forgot himself with the other. With certain remnants of the class he originally- belonged to, he had associated the low habitudes, and slang phraseology of his daily associates, making it difficult for one, at first sight, to discover to which order he belonged. In the language of his companions, Ulick Burke " could be a gen- tleman when he pleased it." How often have we heard this phrase : and with what a fatal mistake is it generally applied. He who can be a gentleman when he pleases, never pleases to be anything else. Circumstances may, and do, every day in life, throw men of cultivated minds and refined habits into the society of their inferiors ; but while; with the tact and readiness that is their especial prerogative, they make themselves welcome among those with whom they have few, if any, sympathies in common ; yet never by any accident do they derogate from that high standard that makes them gentlemen. So, on the other hand, the man of vulgar tastes and coarse propensities may simulate, if he be able, the outward habitudes of society, speaking with practised intonation, and bowing with well-studied grace ; yet is he no more a gentleman in his thought, or feeling, than is the tinselled actor, who struts the board, the monarch his costume would bespeak him. This being the "gentleman when he likes," is but the mere performance of the character. It has all the smell of the orange-peel and the foot- lights about it, and never can be mistaken by anyone who knows the world. But to come back to Mr. Burke. Having eyed me for a second or two, with a look of mingled distrust and imi^ertinence, he unfolded my note, which he held beneath his fingers, and said — - " I received this from you last night, Mr. ." " Hinton," said I, assisting him. " Mr. Hinton," repeated he slowly. " Won't you be seated ? " said I, pointing to a chair, and taking one myself. He nodded familiarly, and jDlacing himself on the window- sill, with one foot upon a chair, resumed, — " It's about O'Grady's business, I suppose you've come down here ; the captain has treated me very ill." " You are quite right," said I coolly, " in guessing the object of my visit ; but I must also let you know, that in any observa- tions you make concerning Captain O'Grady, they aremade to a friend, who will no more permit his name to be slightingly treated than his own." " Of course," pronounced with a smile of the most insulting coolness, was the only reply. "That, however, is not the mat- ter in hand : your friend, the captain, never condescended to answer my letter." " He only received it a few days ago." JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 155 " Wliy isn't he here himself ? Is a fjentleman rider to be treated like a common jockey that's paid for his race?" T confess the distinction was too subtle for me, but I said nothing in reply. " I don't even know where the horse is, nor if he is here at all — will you call that handsome treatment, !Mr. Ilinton ? " "Onethinf,' I am quite sure of, Mr. Burke — Captain O'Grady is incapable of anytliinir unworthy or unbecoming a gentleman ; the haste of his departure for foreign service may have pre- vented him observing certain matters of etiquette towards you, but he has commissioned me to accept your terms. The horse is, or will be here to night, and I trust nothing will in- terrupt the good understanding that has hitherto subsisted between you." " Ajid will he take up the writ? " " He will," said I lirmly. " He must have a heavy book on the race." " ISTearly a thousand pounds." " I'm sorry for it for his sake," was the cool reply, " for he'll lose his money." " Indeed ! '' said I, " I understand that you thought well of his horse, and that with your riding " " Ay ; but I won't ride for him." " You won't ride !— not on your own term ? " " No ; not even on ray own terms. Don't be putting yourself into a passion, Mr. Hinton — you've come down to a country where that never does any good ; we settle all our little matters here in a social, pleasant way of our own — but, I repeat it, I won't ride for your friend ; so you may withdraw his horse as soon as you like ; except," added he with a most contemptuous sneer, ''you have a fancy for riding him yourself." Resolving that whatever course I should follow I should at least keep my temper for the present— I assumed as much calmness as I could command, and said. — " And what is there against 0' Grady's horse ? " " A chesnut mare of Tom MoUoy's, that can beat him over any country — the rest are withdrawn ; so that I'll have a ' ride over 'for my pains." " Then you ride for Mr. Molloy ? '' said I. " You've guessed it," rejolied he with a Avink, as throwing his hat carelessly on one side of his head he gave me an insolent nod, and lounged out of the room. I need noli say that my breakfast appetite was not improved by Mr. Burke's visit; in fact, never was a man more embar- rassed than I was. Independent of the loss of his money, I knew how poor Phil would suiier from the duplicity of the transaction; and in my sorrow for his sake I could not help accusing myself of ill-management in the matter : had 156 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. I been more conciliating or more blunt — had I bullied, or bid liigher, perhaps a different result might have followed. Alas! in all my calculations, I knew little or nothing of him with whom I had to deal. Puzzled and perplexed, uncertain how to act — now resolving on one course, now deciding on the opposite, I paced my little room for above an hour. The only conviction I could come to being the unhappy choice that poor O'Grady had made when be selected me for his negotiator. The town clock struck twelve — I remembered suddenly that was the hour when the arrangements for the race were to be ratified, and without a thought of what course I should pursue, what plan I should adopt, 1 took my hat and sallied forth. The main street of the little town was crowded with people, most of them of that class which, in Iri.sh phrase, goes V)y the api^ellation of squireen, a species of human lurcher, without any of the good properties of either class from which it derives its origin, but abounding in the bad traits of both. They lounged along, followed by pointers and wn-e-haired greyhounds, their hands stuck in their coat pockets, and their hats set well back on their heads. Following in the train of this respectable cortege, I reached the market-house, upon the steps of which several " sporting gentlemen "' of a higher order were assembled. Elbow- ing my way with some difticulty through these I mounted a dirty and sandy stair, to a large room, usually employed by the magi- strates for their weekly sessions ; here, at a long table, sat the race committee: an imposing display of books, ]iens, and papers before them. A short little man, with a powdered liead, and a certain wheezing chuckle when he spoke, that involuntarily suggested the thought of apoplexy, seemed to be the president of the meeting. The room was so crowded with persons of every class that I could with difficulty catch what was going forward. I looked anxiously round to see if I could not recognize some friend or acquaintance, but every face was strange to me. The only one I had ever seen before was Mr. Burke himself, who with his back to the fire, was edifying a select circle of his friends by what I discovered, ft-om the laughter of his auditory, was a narrative of his visit to myself. The recital must have owed something to his ingenuity in telling, for indeed, the gentlemen seemed convulsed with mirth; and when Mr. Burke concluded, it was plain to see that he stood several feet higher, in the esti- mation of his acquaintances. " Silence ! " wheezed the little man with the white head : " it is a quarter past twelve o'clock, and I'll not wait any longer." " liead the list, Maurice," cried some one. "As it is only ' a walk over,' you needn't lose any time." " Here, then, No. 1 : Captain Fortescue's Tramp." " Withdrawn," said a voice in the crowd. yACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 157 " No. 2 : Harry Stnddard's Devil-may-care ! " "I'aiJ Ibrfeit," cried another. "No. 3 : Sir George O'JJrien's Eilly-tlic-bowl ! " " Gone home attain," wa.s the answer. " No. 4 : Tom Molluy'.s (Kathleen ! " " All right !" shouted Air. Burke, from the fire place. " Who rides ? " asked the president. " Ulick ! " repeated half-a-dozen voices together. " Eleven stone eight," said the little man. "And a pound for the martingale," chimed in Air. Burke. " Well, 1 believe that's all No : there's another horse — Captain (J'Grady's Alodirideroo." *' Scratch him out with the rest," said Air. Burke. " No ! " said I, from tlie back of the room. The word seemed electric : every eye was turned towards the quarter where I stood ; and as I moved forward towards the table the crowd receded to permit my passage. " Are you on the part of Air. O'Grad}', sir?" said the little man, with a polite smile. I bowed an affirmative. " He does not withdraw his horse, then ? " said he. " No ! " said I again. " But you are aware, sir, that Air. Burke is going to ride for my friend, Air. Alolloy, here. Are you prepared with another gentleman ? " I nodded shortly. " His name, may I ask ? " continued he. " Air. Hinton," By this time Air. Buvke, attracted by the colloquy, had ap- proached the table, and, stooping down, whispered some words in the president's ear. " You will forgive me, I'm sure," said the latter, addressing me, " if I ask, as the name is unknown to me, if this be a gentleman rider?" The blood rushed to my face and temple-^. I knew at once from whom this insult proceeded. It was no time, however, to uotic it, so I simply replied, — " Air. Hinton is an otHcer of the Gnai'ds, an aide-de-camp to the Lord Lieutenant, and I beg leave respectfully to present him to you."' The obsequious civility exhibited by the party, as I pro- nounced these few words, were an ample amende for what I had su tiered a few minutes before. Alf an while. Air. Burlce had resumed his place at the fire, once more surrounded by his admiring satellites. Bi'ing accommodated wiih a chair at the table, I proceeded to read over and sign the usual papers, by which I bound myself to abide by the regulations of the course, and conform in N 158 JACK mNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. all things-to tlie decision of the stewards. Scarcely had I con- cluded, wlien Mr. Burke called out, — " Who'll take eight to one on the race ? " Not a word was spoken in reply. " Who'll take fifty to five : " cried he again. '' I will," said a voice from the door. " Who is that takes my bet ? What is his name ? " " Tom Loftus, P.P. of Murranakilty.'' " A better fellow nor an honester couldn't do it," said the jDresident. "Book your bet, sir," said Mr. Burke ; " or if it is equally con- venient for you, you can pay it at present." " I never make a memorandum of such trifles,"said the priest ; "but ril stake the money in some decent man's hands.'' A roar of laughter followed the priest's proposition, than •which nothing could be less to Mr. Burke's taste. This time, however, he was in funds : and while the good father disengaged his five pound-note from the folds of a black leather pocket-book, as large as a portfolio, his antagonist threw a fifty on the table, ■with an air of swaggering importance. I turned now to shake hands with my friend, but to my surprise and astonishment he gave me a look of cold and impressive import, that showed me at once he did not wish to be recognized, and the next moment left the room. My business there was also concluded, and having promised to be forthcoming the following day, at two o'clock, I bowed to the chairman and withdrew. CHAPTER XXII. A MOONLIGHT CANTEK. I WAS not quite satisfied with the good priest for his having cut me, no matter what his reasons — I was not over much so with the tone of the whole meeting itself, and certainly I was very little satisfied with the part I had myself taken therein; for as cooler judgment succeded to hot excitement, I perceived in what a mess of dilficulty I had involved myself, and how a momentary flush of passionate indignation had cai-ried me away beyond the bounds of reason and sense, to undertake what but half an hour previously 1 should have shrunk from, with shame, and the very thought of which now filled mo with apprehension and dread, not indeed as to the consequences to myself, physically considered, for most wilhngly would I have compounded, for a fractured Umb, or even two, to escape the ridicule I was almost JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 159 certain of incurring ; this it was which I could not bear, and my licart, amour propre, recoiled from the thoufjlit of being a laughing-stock to tho under-bred and ill-born horde that would assemble to witness me. When I arrived at the inn poor Joe was there awaiting me; he had been down to see the horse, which for precaution's sake was kept at a mill a little distance from the town, and of whose heart and condition he spoke in glowing terms. " Och ! he is a raal beauty — a little thick in fat about the crest, but they say he always trains fleshy, and his legs are as clean as a whistle. Sorra bit, but it will give Mr. Ulick as much as he can do to ride him to-raon-ow. I know by the way he turns his eyes round to you in the stable he's in the devil's temper." " But it is not Mr. Burke, Joe — I am going to ride him."' " You are going to do it ! You ! Oh ! by the powers, Mr. Ulick wasn't far out when he said the master was as mad as the man. ' Tell me your company,' says the old proverb ; and you see there it is — what comes of it? If you lie down with dogs, you'll get up with Heas, and that's the fruits of travelling with a fool." I was in no temper for badinage at the moment, and replied to the poor fellow in a somewhat harsher tone than I should have used ; and as he left the room without speaking, I felt ashamed and angry with myself, for thus banishing the only one that seemed to feel an interest in my fortunes. I sat down to my dinner discontented and unhappy. But a few hours previous, and I awoke high in heart and hope ; and now without any adverse stroke of fortune, without any of those casualties of fate which come on us imlookcd for and unthought of, but simply by the unguided exercise of a passionate tempera- ment, I found myself surrounded by embarrassments, and en- vironed by dilliculties, without one friend to counsel or advise me. _ Yes : I could not conceal it from myself— my determination to ride the steeple-chase was the mere outbreak of passion. The taunting insolence of Burke had stung me to adopt a course which I had neither previously considered, nor if suggested by another, could ever have consented to. True I was what could be called a good horseman. In the two seasons I had spent in Leicestershire, on a visit to a relative, I had acquitted myself with credit and character ; but a light weight splendidly mounted on a trained hunter, over his accustomed country, has no parallel with the same individual upon a horse he has never crossed, oyer a country he has never seen. These, and a hundred similar considerations came rushing on me now when it was too late ; however, the thing was done, and there being no possible way of undoing it, there was but one road, the straight forward, to follow in the case. Alas ! half of our philosophy in difficulties ,i6o JACK HINTON, THE GUAEDSMAN. consists in shutting our eyes firmly against consequences, and fete haissee, rushing headlong at the future. Though few_ may he found willing to admit that the bull in the china-shop is the model of their prudence— I freely own it was mine, and that I made up my mind to ride the horse with the unspeakable name, as long as he would permit me to ride him, at everything, oyer everything, or through everything, before me. This conclusion at length come to, Ibegan to feel more easy in my mind. Like the felon, that feels there is no chance of a reprieve, I could look my fate more steadily in the face. I had no great appetite for my dinner, but I sat over an ex- cellent bottte of port; sipping, and sipping, each glass I swal- lowed lending a rose tint to the future. The second bottle had just been placed on the table before me, when O'Grady's groom came in to receive his instructions. He had heard nothing of my resolution to ride, and certainly looked aghast when I announced it to him. By this time, however, I had combated my oivn fears, and I was not going to permit 7m to terrify me. Affecting the easy nonchalance of that excellent type, Mr. Ulick Burke, I thrust my hands into my coat pockets, and standing with my back to the fire, began questioning him about the horse. Confound it ! there's no man so hard to humbug as an Irishman, but if he be a groom, I pronounce the thing impos- sible. The fellow saw through me in a moment ; and as he sipped the glass of wine I had filled out for him, he approached me confidentially, while he said in a low tone, — " Did you say you'd ride him ? " " Yes, to be sure I did." "You did; well ! well! there's no helping it, since yon said it. There's only one thing to be done," he looked cautiously about the room, lest anyone should overhear him. " There's but one thing I know of — let him throw you at the first leap. Mind me now, just leave it to himself; he'll give you no trouble in life; and all you have to do is to choose the soft side. It's not your fault after that, you know, for I needn't tell 3'on he won't be caught before night." " I could not help laughing at this new receipt for riding a steeple- chase, although I confess it did not raise my courage regarding the task before me. "But wh»t does he do? " said I ; " this infernal beast, what trick has he ? " " It isn't one, bnt a hundred that he has. First of all, it isn't so easy to get on his hack, for he is as handy with his hind foot as a fiddler ; and if you arc not mighty quick in mounting, he'll strike you down with it: then, when you are up, maybe, he won't move at all, but stand with his fore-legs out, his head down, and his eyes turned buci< just like a picture, hitting his flanks between times with his long tail. You may coax him, pet JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. i6i liim, and pat him— faith, you might as well be tickling a milo- stone ; for it's lautfliiiig at you lie'll lie all the time. iMayhe at last you'll get tired, and touch him with the spur. Hurroo! bo gorra you'll get it then." " Why — what happens then ? " "What happen.s, is it? Maybe it's your neck is broke, or your thigh, or your collar bone at least : he'll give yoa a straight plunge up in the air, about ten feet high, throw big head forward till he either pulls the reins out of your hands or lifts you out of the saddle, and at the same moment he'll give you a blow with his hind quarters in the small of the back Och ! murther," said he, placing both hands upon hia loins, and writhing as he spoke, "it'll be six weeks to-morrow since he made one of them buck-lcaj)H witli me, and I never walked straight since. But that is not all." ''Come, come," said I, impatiently, "this is all nonsense; ho only wants a man with a little pluck to bully him out of all this." As I said these valorous words I own that to my own heart I didn't exactly correspond to the person I described ; but as the bottle of port was now finished, I set forth with my companion to pay my first visit to this redoubted animal. The mill where the stable lay was about a mile from the town ; but the night was a fine moonlight one, with not an air of wind stirring, and the walk delightful. When we reached the little stream that turned tlie mill, over which a plank was thrown as a bridge, we perceived that a country lad was walking a pair of saddle-horses backwards and forwards near the spot. The sus- picion of some trickery, some tampering with the horse, at once crossed me ; and I hinted as much to the groom. "No, no," said he, laughing, "make your mind easy about that. Mr. Ulick Burke knows the horse well, and he'll leave it all to himself." The allusion was a pleasant one; but I said nothing, and walked on. Having procured a lantern at the mill, the groom preceded me to the little out-house, which acted as stable. He opened tho door cautiously, and poej^ed in. " He's lying down," said he to me in a whisper, and at the same moment taking the candle from the lantern, he held it up to permit my obtaining a better view: "don't be afeard," con- tinued he, "he'll not stir now, the thief of the arth ; when onco he's down that way, he lies as peaceable as a lamb." As well as I could observe him, he was a, magnificent horse. A little too heavy perhaps about the crest and forehand, but then so strong behind, such powerful muscle about the hiuinches, his balance was well preserved. As I stood con- templating him in silence I felt tho breath of some one behind me. I turned suddenly around; it was Father Tom Ijoftus i62 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. himself. There was the worthy jDriest, mopping his forehead with a huge pocket-handkerchief and blowing like a rhinoceros. " Ugh ! " said he at length, " I have been running up and down the roads this half-hour after you, and there's not a puff left in me." "Ah ! father, I hoped to have seen you at the inn." " Whisht ; I darn't. I thought I'd do it better my own way ; but, see now, we've no time to lose. I knew as well as yourself yon never intended to ride this race. No matter; don't say a word; but listen to me; I know the horse better than any one in these parts ; and it isn't impossible, it you can keep the saddle over the first two or three fences, that you may win. I say, if you can — for faith it's not m a ' swing swong' you'll be. But, come now, the course was marked out this evening. Burke was over it before dinner; and, with a blessing, we will before supper. I've got a couple of hacks here that'll take us over every bit of it, and jierhaps it is not too much to say you might have a worse guide." " Faith, your reverence," chimed in the groom, "he'd find it hard to have a better." Thanking the kind priest for his good-natured solicitude, I followed him out upon the road, where the two horses were waiting us. " There now," said he, " get up ; the stirrups are about your length. He looks a little low in liesh ; but you'll not complain of him when he's under you." The next moment we were both in the saddle. Taking a narrow path that led off from the high road, we entered a large tilled field ; keeping along the headlands of which, we came to a low stone wall, through a gap of which we passed, and came out upon an extensive piece of grass-land, that gently sloped away from where we were standing, to a little stream at its base, an arm of that which supplied the mill. " Here now," said the priest, " a little to the left yonder is the start : you come down this hiH; you take the water there, and you keep along by Freney's house, where you see the trees there. There's only a small stone wall, and a clay ditch, between this and that; afterwards you turn off to the right. But, come now, are you ready .P AVe'll explore a bit." As he spoke, the good priest, putting spurs to his hackney, dashed on before me, and motioning me to follow, cantered down the slope. Taking the little mill-stream at a fly, he turned in his saddle to watch my performance. "Neat, mighty neat!" cried he, encouraging me. "Keep, your hand a little low. The next is a wall " Scarcely had he spoke when we both came together at a stone fence, about three feet high. This time I was a little in advance, as my horse was fresher, and took it first. JACK I IT NT ON, 'J HE GUARDSMAN. 163 " Oh. the devil a better ! " said Father Tom. "Burke himself couldn't bout th;it! llure now: keep tliis way out of the deep ground, and rush Inmat the double ditch there." Resolved on securing his good opinion, I gripped my saddle firmly with my knees, and rode at the fence. Over we went ia capital style, but li,i,diting on the top of a rotten ditch, the ground gave way, and my horse's hind legs slipped backwards into the gripe. Being at full stretch, the poor animal had no power to recover himself, so that disengaging his fore-legs. I pulled him down into the hollow, and then with a vigorous dash of tiie spur and a bold lift carried hiia clean over it into the field. " Look, now ! " said the priest; " that pleases me better than all you did before. Presence of mind— that's the real gift for a horseman when he's in a scrape ; but mind me, it was your own fault ; for here's the way to take the fence." So saying, he made a slight semi-circle in the field, and then, as he headed his horse towards the leap, rushed him at it furiously, and came over like the bound ot a stag! "jSTow," said Father Tom, pointing with his whip as he spoke, "we have a beautiful bit of galloping ground before us; and if you ever reach this far, and I don't sec why you shouldn't, here's where you ought to make play. Listen to me now," said he, dropping his voice : " Tom Molloy's mare isn't thoroughbred, though they think she is. She has got a bad drop in her. Now the horse is allright, clean bred, sire and dam, by reason he'll be able to go through the dirt, when the mare can't, so that all you've to do, if, as I said before, you get this far, is, to keep straight down to the two thorn bushes— there, you see them yonder — Burke won't be able to take that line, but must keep upon the head lands, and go all round yonder; look now, you see the difference — so that before he can get over that wide ditch you'll be across it, and making for the stone wall. After that by the powers, if yon don't win, I can't help you ! " "Where does the course turn after, father.^" said I. " Oh ! a beautiful line of flat country, intersprinkled with walls, ditches, and maybe a hedge or two; but all iair, and only one rasping fence, the last of all. After that, you have a clean gallop of about a quarter of a mile, over as nice a sod as ever you cantered." "And that last fence, what is it like?" " Faith, it is a rasper ; it's a wide gully where there was a horeen once, and they say it is every inch of sixteen feet, that'll make it close upon twenty when you clear the clay on both sides. The grey horse, I'm told, has a way of jumping in and jumping out of these narrow roads ; but take my advice, and go it in a fly: and now, captain, what between l64 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. the running, and the riding, and the talking altogether, I am as dry as a lime-kiln; so what do you say if we turn back to town, and have a bit of supper together? There's a kind of a cousin of mine, one Bob Mahon, a major in theEoscommon, and he has got a grouse-pie, and something hot to dilute it with, waiting for us." "Nothing will give me more pleasure, father; and there's only one thing more— indeed I had nearly forgotten it alto- gether " "What's that?" said the priest, with surprise. '' Not having any intention to ride, I left town without any racing equipment; breeches and boots I have, but as to a cap and a jacket " _ " I've provided for both," said Father Tom. " You saw the little man with a white head that sat at the head of the table, Tom Dillon of Mount Brown, you know him ? " " I am not acquainted with him." " Well, he knows you, that's all the same: his son, that's just gone to Gibraltar with his regiment, Avas about your size, and he had a new cap and jacket made for this very race, and of course they are lying there, and doing nothing. So I sent over a little .7ossoo?i with a note, and I don't doubt but they are all at the inn this moment." " By Jove, father ! " said I, " you are a real friend, and a most thoughtful one, too." " Maybe I'll do more than that for you," said he, with a sly wink of his eye, that somehow suggested to my mind that he knew more of, and took a deeper interest in me, than I had reason to believe. CHAPTER XXIII. MAJOR MAHON AND HIS QUARTEES. The major's quarters were fixed in one of the best houses in the town, in the comfortable back parlour of which was now displayed alittle table laid for three persons : a devilled lobster, the grouse pie already mentioned, some fried ham, and crisped potatoes were the viands; but each was admirable in its kind, and with the assistance of an excellent bowl of hot punch and the friendly welcome of the host, left nothing to be wished for, or desired. Major Bob Mahon was a short, tliick-set, little man, with round blue eyes, a turned-up nose, and a full under lip, which be had a habit of protruding with an air of no mettn pretensioji ; JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 165 a short crop of curly black hair covered a head as round as a l)illiard-ball ; these traits, with a certain peculiar smack of hia mouth, by wiiich he occasionally testified the approval of iiis own eloquence, were the most remarkable things about him. His j^reat ambition was, to be thou^^ht a niilitary man ; but somehow his pretensions in this respect smacked much more of the militia than the line. Indeed, he possessed a kind of adroit way of asserting the superiority of the former to the latter, averring that they who fought fro aris rt Joels — the major was fond of Latin — stood on lar higher ground than the travelled mercen- aries who only warred tor pay : this peculiarity, and an aijsurd attachment to practical jokes, the result of which had frequently through life involved him in law-suits, damages, compensations, and even duels, formed the great staple of his character, of all which the good j)riest informed me most fully on our way totlie house. " Captain Hinton, I believe," said the major, "as he held out his hand in welcome. " Mr. Hinton," said I, bowing. "Ay, yes; Father Tom, there, doesn't know much about these matters. What regiment, jjray ? " " 'Jlie Grenadier Guards." " Oh, a very good corps— mighty respectable corps ; not that, between ourselves, I tliiuk-over much of the regulars — between you and me, I never knew foreign travel do good to man or beast. "What do they bring back with them, I'd like to know ? — French cookery and Italian licentiousness. No, no ; give me the native troops ! You were a bo}^ at the time, but maybe you have heard how they behaved in the west, when Hoche landed. Egad ! if it wasn't for the militia the country was sacked. I commanded a company of the Roscommon at the time; I re- member well we laid siege to a windmill, held by a desperate fellow, the miller — a resolute character, j\Ir. Hinton — he had two guns in the place with him." " I wish to the Lord he had shot you with one of them, and we'd have been spared this long stor}' ! " " I opened a ]iarallel " " Maybe you'd open the pie.° " said the priest, as he drew his chair, and sat down to the table. " Perhaps you forget, Bob, we have had a sharp ride of it this evening ? " "Upon my conscience, so I did," replied the major, good- humouredly. " So let us have a bit of supper now, Mr. Hinton, and I'll finish my story by-aud-by." " The Heavens forbid ! " piously ejaculated the priest, as he helped himself to a very considerabh; portion of the lobster. " Is this a fast," said I, slily, " Father Loftus ? " " No, my son, but we'll make it one. That reminds me of what happened to me going up in the boat. It was a Friday, i66 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. and the dinner, as you may suppose, was not over-good ; but there was a beautiful cut of fried salmon just before me, about a pound and a half, maybe two pounds; this I slipped quietly on my plate, observing to the company, in this way — ladies and gen- tlemen, this is a fast day with me when a big fellow, with red whiskers, stooped across the table cut my bit of fish in two halves, calling out as he carried off one — ' Bad scran to ye, d'ye think nobody has a sowl to be saved but yourself? ' " "Ah ! they're a pious people, are the Irish ! " said the major, solemnly, " and you'll remark that when you see more of them. And now, captain, how do you like us here ? " "Exceedingly," said I, with warmth. "I have had every reason to be greatly pleased with Ireland." " That's right i and I'm glad of it ! though, to be sure, you have not seen las in our holiday garb. Ah, if you were here before the Union ; if you saw Dublin as I remember it — and Tom there remembers it — ' that was a pleasant place.' It was not trusting to balls and parties, to dinners and routs, but to all kinds of fun and devilment besides. All the members of parliament used to be skylarking about the city, playing tricks on one another, and humbugging the Castle people — and, to be sure, the Castle was not the grave, stupid place it is now — they were convivial, jovial fellows " " Come, come, major," interrupted I; " you are really unjust — the present court is not the heavy " " Sure I know what it is well enough. Hasn't the duke all the privy council and the bishops as often to dinner as the garrison and the bar? Isn't he obliged to go to his own apartment when they want to make a night of it, and sing a good chorus ? Don't tell me— sure even as late as Lord Westmoreland's time, it was another thing — pleasant and happy times they were, and the country will never be the same till we have them back again ! " Being somewhat curious to ascertain in what particular our degeneracy consisted — for in my ignorance of better, I had hitherto supposed the present "regime" about as gay a thing as need be — I gradually led the major on to talk of those happier days when Ireland kept all its fun for home consumption, and never exported even its surplus produce. " It was better in every respect," responded the major. "Hadn't we all the patronage amongst us? There's Jonah, there — Barrington, I mean : well, he and I could make anything, from a tide-waiter to a master in Chancery. (It's little trouble small debts gave us then, a pipe of sherry never cost me more than a storekeeper in the ordnance, and I kept my horses at livery for three years with a washwoman to Kilmainham Hospital ; and as for fun look at the Castle now ! Don't I remember the times when we used to rob the coaches coming JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 167 from the drawing-rooms; and pretty girls they were inside of them." "For shame, for shame! "cried Father Tom, with a si}- look in the corner of his eye, that by no means bespoke a suitable degree (jf horror at such unwarrantable proceedings. " Well, if it was a shame it was no siu," responded the major; " for we never took anything more costly than kisses. Ah, dear me ! them was the times ! And, to be sure, every now and then, we got a pull-up from the Lady-Lieutenant, and were obliged to behave ourselves for a week or two together. One thing she never could endure, was a habit we had of leaving the Castle before they themselves left the ball-room. I'm not going to defend it, it was not very polite, i confess; but somehow or other there was always something going on we couldn't afford to lose — maybe a supper at the barrack, or a snug party at Daly's, or a bit of fun elsewhere. Her excellency, however, got angry about it, and we got a quiet hint to reform our manners. This, I need not tell you, was a hopeless course ; so we hit on an expedient that answered to the full as well. It was by our names being called out, as the carriages drove up, that our delinquency became known. So Matt Forlescue suggested that we should adopt some feigned nomenclature, which would totally defy every attempt at discovery ; the idea was excellent, and we traded on it for many a day with comjilete success. One night, however, from some cause or other, the carriages were late in arriving, and we were all obliged to accompany the court into the supper-room; angry enough we were; but still there was no help for it; and so, 'smiling through tears,' as the poet says, in we went. Scarcely, however, had we taken our places when a servant called out something from the head of the stairs ; another re-echoed it at the antechamber, and a third at the supper-room shouted out, ' Oliver Cromwell's carriage stops the way!' The roar of laughter the announcement caused shook the very room ; but it had scarcely subsided when there was another call for ' Brian Boru's coach.' quickly followed by ' Guy Fawkes' and ' i'addy O'Kafferty's jingle,' which latter personage was no other than the Dean of Cork. I need not tell you that we kept our secret, and joined in the universal opinion of the whole room, 'that the household was shamefully disguised in drink ; ' and indeed there was no end to the mis- takes that night, for every now and then some character in heathen or modern history would turn up among the announce- ments ; and as the laughter burst forth, the servants would grow ashamed ior a while, and refuse to call any earriage where the style and title was a little out of the common. Ah! Mr. Hinton, if you had lived in those days Well, well, no matter — here's a glass to their memory, anyway. It is the tirst time you've been in these parts, and I suppose you haven't seen much of the country ? '' i68 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " Very little indeed," replied I ; " and even that mucli only by moonlight." "I'm afraid," said Father Tom, lialfpensivel}'-, '•' that many of your countrymen take little else than a ' dark view ' of us." " See now," said the major, slapping his hand on the table -with energy, " the English know as much about Pat as Pat knows of purgatory — no oflence to you, Mr, Hmton. I could tell you a story of a circumstance that once happened to myself." "No, no. Bob," said the prie.st. "It is bad taste to tell a story €11 petit comite. I'll leave it to the captain." " If I am to be the judge," said I, laughingly, " I decide for the story." "Let's have it, then," said the priest. " Come, Bob, a fresh, brew, and begm your tale." "You area sensual creature. Father Tom," said the major ; " and prefer drink to intellectual discussion ^ not but that you may have both here at the same time ; but in honour of my friend beside me, I'll not bear malice, but give you the story: and let me tell you, it is not every day in the week a man hears a tale with a moral to it, particularly down in this part of the country." CHAPTER XXIV. THE devil's grip. " The way of it was this. There was a little estate of mine in the county of Waterford that I used now and then to visit in the shooting season. In fact, except for that, there was very little inducement to go there ; it was a bleak, ugly part of the country, a bad market-town near it, and not a neighbour within twelve miles. "Well, I went over there — it was, as well as I re- member, December two )'ears — never was there such weather: it rained from morning till night, and blew and rained irora night till morning; the slates were flying about on every side, and we used to kee2i fellows up all night, that in case the chimneys were blown away we'd know where to lind them in Ihe morning. Tliis was the pleasant weather I selected for my visit to the ' Devil's Grip ' — that was the name of the townland where the house stood ; and no bad name either ; for, faith if he hadn't his paw on it it might have gone in law, like the rest of the property. However, down T went there, and only re- jnembercd on the evening of my arrival that I had ordered my yACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 169 gamelcceper to poison the mountain, to pet rid of the poachers ; 80 that, instead of shof)tin^', which, as I said before, was all you could do in the place, there I was, with three brace of doL's, two puns, and powder enoni,di to blow up a church, walking a big dining-parluiir, all alone by myself, as melancholy as may be. " You may judge how Imppy I was, looking out upon the bleak country side, with nothing to amuse me, except when now and then the roof of some cabin or other would turn upside down, like an umbrella, or watching an old wind-mill that had gone clean mad, and went round at such a pace that nobody dare go near it. All this was poor comfort : however, I got out of temper with the place; and so I sat down, and wrote a long advertisement for the English papers, describing the Devil's Grip as a little terrestrial paradise, in the midst of picturesque scenery, a delightful neighboiirliood, and an Arcadian peasantry the whole to be parted with— a dead bargain — as the owner was about to leave the country ; I didn't add that he had some thought of blowing his brains out with sheer disgust of his family residence. I wound up the whole with a paragraph, to the ettect that if not disposed of within the month, the proprietor would break it up into small i'arms. I said this because I in- tended to remain so long there; and, although I knew no purchaser would treat after he saw the premises, yet still some one might be fool enough to come over and look at them, and even that would help me to pass the Christmas. My calculation turned out correct ; ibr before a week was over, a letter reached me, stating that a Mr. Green, of No. 196, High Holborn, Avould pay me a visit as soon as the weather moderated and permitted him to travel. If he waits for that, thought I, he'll not find me here ; and if it blows as hard for the next week, he'll not find the house either; so I mixed another tumbler of punch, and hummed myself to sleep with the Battle of Koss. " It was about four or five evenings after I received this letter that old Dan ]\r'Corniick, a kind of butler I have, a handy fellow — he was a steward for ten years in the Ilolyhead |)acket — burst into the room about ten o'clock, when I was disputing with myself whether I took six tumblers or seven ; I said one, the decanter said the other. " ' Its blowing terrible, Mr. Bob,' said Dan. " ' Let it blow — what else has it to do ? ' " ' The trees is tumbling about as if they was drunk ; there won't be one left before morn.' " ' They're right,' says I, ' to leave that, for the soil was never kind for planting.' " ' Two of the chimneys is down,' says he. •' ' Devil mend them,' said I, ' they were always smoking.' " ' And the hall-door,' cried be, ' is blown Hat into the hall.' ijo JACK HINTON, THE GUARDS^fA^. " ' It's little I care,' said I ; ' if it couldu't keep out the sheriflf it may let in the storm, if it pleases.' " ' Murther ! murther ! ' said he, wringing his hands, ' I wish we were at say — it's a cruel thing to have one's life perilled this way.' " While we were talking, a gossoon burst into the room with the news that the Milford packet had just gone ashore some- where below the Hook Tower, adding, as is always the case on such occasions, that they were all drowned. " I jumped up at this, put on my shooting shoes, buttoned up my frieze coat, and followed by Dan, took a short cut over the hills towards Passage, where I now found the packet had been driven in. Before we had gone half a mile I heard the voices of some country people coming up the road towards me \ but it was so dark you couldn't see your hand. " ' Who's there ? ' said I. " ' Tim MoUoy, your honour,' was the answer. " ' What's the matter, Tim ? ' said I. ' Is there anything wrong? " * ISTothing, sir, glory be to God — it's only the corpse of the gentleman that was drowned there below.' " ' I ain't dead, I tell you ; I'm only faint,' called out a shrill voice. " ' He says he's better,' said Tim ; ' and maybe it's only the salt water that's in him ; and faix, when we found him, there was no moi'e spark in him than in a wet sod.' "Well, the short of it was, we brought him up to the house, rubbed him with gunpowder Vjefore the tire, gave him about half a pint of burnt spirits, and put him to bed, he being just able to tell me, as he was dropping asleep, that he was my friend from No. 196, HighHolborn. " The next morning I sent up Dan to ask how he was ; and he came down with the news that he was fast asleep. The best thing he could do, said I — and I began to think over what a mighty load it would be upon my conscience if the decent man had been drowned; for, maybe, after all, thought I, he is in earnest, maybe he wished to buy a beautiful place like that I have described in the papers — and so I began to relent, and wonder with myself how I could make the country pleasant for him during his stay. It 'ill not be above a day or two at farthest, particularly after he sees the place. Ay, there's the rub, the poor devil will find out then tliat I have been hoaxing him. This kept fretting me all day ; and I was continually sending up word to know if he was awake; and the answer always was — still sleeping. Well, about four o'clock, as it was growing dark, Oakley of the Fifth and two of his brother- officers came bowling up to the door, on their way to Carrick. Here was a piece of luck ! So we got dinner ready for the party, brought JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAX. 171 a good store of claret at one side of the fire-place, and a plenti- ful stock of LofT fir at the other, and resolved to make a night of it; and just us 1 was doflcriLini^ to my friends the arrival of my guest above stairs, who should enter the room but himself. lie was a round little follow, about my size, with a short, quick, business-like way about him. Indeed, he was a kind of a dry- salter, or somethiuf,' of thiit nature, in London, had made a large fortune, and wished to turn country gentleman. I had only time to learn these few particulars, and to inform him that he was at that moment m the mansion he had come to visit, when dinner was announced. " Down we sat ; and, faith, a jollier party rarely met together. Poor Mr. Green knew but little of Ireland ; but we cer- tainly tried to enlighten him ; and he drank in wonders with his wine at such a rate that by eleven o'clock he was carried to his room, pretty much in the same state as on his arrival the night before, the only difference being, it was Sneyd, not salt-water this time, that filled hini. " ' I like the cockney,' said Oakley : 'that fellow's good fun. I say, Bob, bring him over with you to-morrow to dinner. We halt at Carrick till the detachment comes up.' " ' Could you call it breakfast ? ' said I. ' There's a thought just strikes me : we'll be over in Carrick with you about six o'clock : we'll have our breakfast, whatever you like to give us, and dine with you about eleven or twelve afterwards.' " Oakley liked the project well ; and before we parted the whole thing was arranged for the next day. " Towards four o'clock in the afternoon of the following day Mr. Green was informed by Daniel that, as we had made an engagement to take an early breakfast some miles off, he ought to be up and stirring : at the same time a pair of candles wero brought into the room — hot water for shaving, &c. ; and the astonished cockney, who looked at his watch, perceived that it wasbut four. " ' These are very early people,' thought he. ' However, the habits of the country must be complied with.' So saying, he) proceeded with his toilet, and at last reached the drawing-room, just as my drag dashed up to the door — the lamps fixed and shining, and everything in readiness for depar- ture. " ' We'll have a little shooting, Mr. Green,' said I. 'After breakfast, we'll see what my friend's preserves offer. I suppose you're a good shot ? ' " ' I can't say much for my performance ; but I'm passionately fond of it' " ' Well,' added I, ' I believe I can answer for it, you'll have a good day here.' *' So chatting, we rolled along, the darkness gradually 1/2 ^ACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAM. thickening round ns, and the way becoming more gloomy and deserted. " ' It's strange,' says Mr. Green, after a while : ' it's strange, how very dark it grows before sun-rise ; for I perceive it's much blacker now than when we set out.' "'Every climate has its peculiarities,' said I; 'and now that we're used to this, we like it better than any other : but see there— yonder; where you observe the light in the valley — that's Carrick. My friend's house is a little at the side of the town. I hope you've a good appetite for breakfast.' " 'Trust me, I never felt so hungry in my hfe.' "' Ah, here they come!' said Oakley, as he stood with a lantern in his hand at the barrack-gate: 'here they are ! Good morning. Mr. Green. Bob, how goes it? Heavenly morning ! ' "'Delightful indeed,' said poor Green, though evidently not knowing why. " ' Come along, bojs, now.' said Oakley; 'we've a great deal before us; though I am afraid, Mr. Green, you will think little of our Irish sporting after your English j^reserves. However, I have kept a few brace of pheasants, very much at your service, in a snug clover field near the house. So now to breakfast.' " There were about half-a-dozen of the Fifth at that time in the barrack, who all entered heart and hand in the scheme, and with them we sat down to a capital meal, which, if it was not for a big tea-pot and an uru that figured in the middle of the table, might very well have been called dinner. Poor Mr. Green, who lor old prejudice sake began with his congo and a muffin, soon afterwards, and by an easy transition, glided into soup and fish, and went the pace with the rest of us. The claret began to circulate briskly, and after a couple of hours the v.'hisky made its appearance. The Englishnia-i, whose attention was never suffered to flag, with singular anec- dotes of a country, whose eccentricities he already began to appreciate, enjoyed himself to the utmost. He laughed, he drank, he even proposed to sing ; and with one hand on Oakley's shoulder, and the other on mine, he registered a vow to purchase an estate and spend the rest of his days in Ireland. It was now about eleven o'clock, when I proposed that we should have a couple of hours at tlic woodcocks before luncheon. " ' Ah ! yes,' said Green, rubbing his hands, ' let us not forget the shooting. I'm passionately fond of sport.' "It took sometime to caparison ourselves for the field. Shot-bags, flasks, and powder-horns were distributed about, Avhile three brace of dogs caracoUed round the room, and in- creased the uproar. We now sallied forth. It was a dark and starless night— the wind still blowing a hurricane from the » ■' ''T > /■ y//y/ yACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 173 north-east, audnot a thing to be seen two yards from where you atood. *' ' Glorious weather,' said Oakley. " ' A delicious morning,' cried another. ' When those clouds blow over we shall have no rain.' " "J'liat's a line line of country, ]\Ir. Green,' said I. " ' Eh ? what ? a Mne what ? I can see nothing — it's pitch dark.' *' ' Ah, I forgot,' said I. ' How stupid we were, Oakley, not to remember that Mr. Green was not used to our climate ! We can see everything, you know ; but come along, you'll get better by -and -by.' " Willi this we hurricil liiin down a lane, through a hedge, nnd into a ploughed field; while on every side of him pop, pop went the guns, accompanied by exclamations of enthusiastic pleasure and delight. " * There they go — mark ! — that's your's, Tom — well done — cock pheasant, by Jove. Here, Mr. Green ; this way, Mr. Green — that dog is pointing — there, there; don't you see there? ' said I, almost lifting the gun to his shoulder, while ]ioorMr. Green, almost in a panic of excitement and trei>idation, pulled both triggers, and nearly fell back with the recoil. " ' Splendid shot, begad !— killed both,' said Oakley. ' Ah Mr. Green, we have no chance with you. Give him another gun at once.' " 'I should like a little brandy,' said LIr. Green, ' for my feet are wet.' " I gave him my flask, which he emptied at a pull ; while, at the same time, animated with fresh vigour, he tramped man- fully forward, without fear or dread. The tiring still continued hotly around us ; and as Mr. Green discharged his piece whenever he was bid, we calculated that in about an hour and a half he had fired above a hundred and titty times. Wearied and fatigued by his exertions at length he sat down upon a bank, while one of the game-keepers covered the ground about him with ducks, hens, and turkey-cocks, as the spoils of his exertions. '"At Oakley's proposal we now agreed to go back to luncheon, which I need not tell you was a hot supper, followed by mulled claret and more punch. Here the cockney came out still better than before. His character as a sportsman raised him in his own esteem, and he sang ' The Poacher ' for two hours, until he fell fast asleep on the carpet. He was then conveyed to bed, where, as on the former day. he slept till late in the afternoon. '"Meanwhile, 1 had arranged another breakiast-party at Koss, where we arrivetl about seven o'clock in the evening ; and so on for the rest of the week, occasionally varying the amusement by hunting, fishing, or coursing. *' At last poor Mr. Green, when called ou one morning to dress, 174 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. sent down Dan with his compliments that he wished to speak to me. I went to him at ouce, and found him sitting up in his bed. " ' Ah ! Mr. Mahon,' said he, ' this will never do : it's a pleasant life, no doubt, but I never could go on with it. Will you tell me one thing ?— do you never see the sun here ? ' " ' Oh, bless you ! yes,' said I ; ' repeatedly. He was out for two hours on last Patrick's-day, and we have him now and then, promiscuously ! ' " 'How very strancre ! how very remarkable,' said he, with a sigh, * that we in England should know so little ot" all this ! but to tell you the truth I don't think I ever could get used to Lapland — it's Ireland I mean — I beg your pardon for the mistake; and now, may I ask you another question — is this the way you always live ? ' " ' Why, pretty much in this fashion ; during the hazy season we go about to each other's houses, as you see ; and one gets so accustomed to the darkness ' " ' Ah, now, don't tell me that, I know I never could ; it's no use my trying it ; I'm used to the daylight ; I have seen it, man and boy, for above fifty years, and I never could grope about this way. Not but that I am very grateful to you for all your hospitality ; but I had rather go home.' " ' You'll wait for morning, at all events,' said I ; 'you will not leave the house in the dead of the night.' " ' Oh, indeed, for the matter of that, it doesn't signify much ; night and day is much about the same thing in this country.' " And so he grew obstinate, and, notwithstanding all I could say, insisted on his departure ; and the same evening he sailed from the quay of Waterford, wishing me every health and happmess, while he added, with a voice of trembling earnest- ness, — " ' Yes, Mr. Mahon, pardon me if I am wrong, but I wish to heaven you had a little more light in Ireland ! ' " I am unable to say how far the good things of Major Mahon's • table seasoned the story I have just related ; but I confess I laughed at it loud and long, a testimony on my part which delighted the major's heart; for, like all anecdote-mongers, he was not indifferent to flattery. " The moral particularly pleases me," said I. " Ah, but the whole thing's true as I am here. Whist ! there's somebody at the door. Come in, whoever yon are." At these words the door cautiously opened, and a boy of about twelve years of age entered. He carried a bundle under one arm, and held a letter in his hand. " Oh, here it is," said Father Tom. " Come here, Patsey, my boy, here's the penny I promised you. There now, don't make a bad use of your money." yACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. i / 3 The little fellow's eyes brightened, and with a happy smile, and a pnll of his forelock for a bow, left the room delif^hted. " Twelve miles — ay, and lonf^ miles too — in less than three bonis ! not bad travelling, caj^tain, for a bit of a gossoon like that " " And for a penny," said I, almost startled with surprise. " To be snre," said the priest, as he cut the cord of the package, and opened it on the table. "Here we are, as nate a jacket as ever 1 set my eyes on, green and white, with a cap of the same." So saying, ho unfolded the racing-costume, which, by the desire of both parties, I was obliged immediately to try on. "There now," resumed he; "turnabout; it tits you like your skin." " It looks devilish well, upon my word," said the major; " put on the cap; and see, too, he has sent a whip; that was very thoughtful ot Dillon : but what's this letter here? for you, I think, Mr. Hintou." The letter was in a lady's hand ; I broke the seal, and read as follows : — " Dr.AR Sir, — "Sly xmcle Dillon requests that you will give us the pleasure of your company to dinner to morrow, at six o'clock. I have taken the liberty to tell him that as we are old acquaintances you will perhaps kindly overlook his not having visited you to-day ; and I shall feel happy if by accepting the invitation, you will sustain my credit on this occasion. " He desires me to add that the raciug-jacket, &c., are most perfectly at your service, as well as any articles of horse-gear you ma}' be in want of. '' Believe mc, dear sir, truly yours, "Louisa Bellew. "Mount brown, Wednesday Evening." A thrill of pleasure ran through me as I read these lines; and, notwithstanding my efforts to conceal my emotion from my companions, they but too plainly saw the excitement T felt. " .Something agreeable there. You don't look, Mr. iiinton, as if that were a latitat or a bill of costs you were reading." " Not exactly," said I, laughing. " It is an invitation to dinner from ]\lount Brown — wherever that maybe." "The best house in tlie county," said the major; "andagood fellow he is, Hugh Dillon. When is it for ? " "To-morrow, at six." " AVell, if he has not asked me to meet you, I'll invite myself, and we'll go over together." '* Agreed," said I ; " but how shall I send back the answer ? " The major promised to send his servant over with the reply, which I penned at once. "Just tell Hugh," said the major, " that I'll join you." 176 JACK HINTON, 7 HE GUARDSMAN. I blushed, stammered, and looked confused. " I am not writing to Mr. Dillon," said I, " for the invitation came through a lady of the family, Miss Bellew, his niece, I believe." " \Vhew ! " said the major, with a long whistle. " la it there ■weaiie! Oh, by the powers ! Mr. Hinton, that's not fair— to come down here not only to win our money in a steeple-chase, but to want to carry oft' the belle of our country besides ; that 'ill never do." " She doesn't belong to you at all," said Father Tom ; " she is a parishioner of mine, and so were her father and grandfather before her; and moreover than that, she is the prettiest girl, and the best too, in the country she lives in, and that's no small praise — for it's Galway I'm talking of. And now, here's a bumper to her, and who'll refuse it? " " Not I, certainly." " Nor I," said the major, as we drank to her health with all the honours. " Now for another jug," quoth the major, as he moved towards the fire-place in search of the kettle. "After that toast, not another drop," said I, resolutely. " Well said," chimed in the priest : " may I never if that wasn't very Irish." Firmly resisting all the major's solicitations to resume my place at the table, I wished both my friends good night ; and having accepted Bob Mahon's offer of a seat in his tax-cart to the race, I shook their hands warmly, and took my leave. CHAPTER XXV. THE STEEPLE-CHASE I v\Vi not awake till past noon the next day, and had only com- pleted my dressing when Major Mahon made his apj^earance. Having pronounced my costume accurate, and suggested that instead of carrying my racing-cap in my hat I should tie the string round my neck and let it hang down in front, he assisted me on with my great-coat, in which, notwithstanding that the season was summer, and the day a hot one, he buttoned me up to the chin, and down to the knees. " There now," said he, "yon look mighty like the thing — where's your whip? We have no time to lose: so jumjj into tho tax-cart, and let us be oflP." As my reader may remember, the race-ground laid about a JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 177 mile from the town, but the i-oad thithor, unliko the peaceful quiet (jf the preceding night, was now thronged with people on foot ami hor^^eback. Vehicles, too, of every description were there— barouches and landaus, hack chaises, buggies, and jaunting cars, whiskys, noddies, and, in fact, every f-pecies of conveyance pronounced capable of rolling upon its wheels, were put into requisition : nor was the turn-out of cavaliy of a char- acter less mixed. Horses of every shape and colour — some fat from grass; others lean, like anatomical specimens : old ami young; the rich and the poor ; the high sheriffof the countj% with his llasliy four-in-hand; the mendicant on his crutches — all pressed eagerly forward ; and as I surveyed the motley mass I felt what pleasure I could take in the scene, were I not engaged as a principal performer. On reacliing the course we found it already occupied by numerous brilliant equipages, and a strong cavalcace of horsc- nien ; of these the greater number were well mounted, and amused themselves and the by-standers by leaping the various fences arouni! — a species of ])astime which occasionally afforded food for laughter; many a soiled coat and broken hat attesting the colour and consistence of the clayey ground. There were also refreshment-booths, stalls for gaming on a humble scale, tables laid out with beer, hard eggs, and gingerbread — in a word, all the ordinary and extraordinary preparations which accompany any great assemblage of people whose object is amusement. A temporary railing of wood, rudely and hastily put together, enclosed a little space, reserved as a weighing-stand ; here the stewards of the course were assembled, along with " the dons " of the country; and into this privileged sanctum was 1 intro- duced by the m-ajor, in due form. All eyes were turned on me as I entered ; and whether from the guardianship of him who acted as my chaperon, or that the costume of my coat and overalls had propitiated their favour, I cannot say; but somehow I felt that there was more courtesy in their looks, and an air of greater civility in their bearing, than I had remarked the preceding day at the town-hall. True, these were, for the most part, men of better stamp — the real sentry of the country — who, devotedly attached to lield sjDorts, luul come, not as betting characters, but to witness a race. Several of them took off their hats as I approached, and saluted me with jioliteness. While returning their courtesy, I felt my arm gently touched, and on looking around perceived ]Mr. Dillon, of Mount Brown, who, with a look of most cordial greeting, and an outstretched hand, presented himself before me. " You'll dine with us, Mr. Tlinton, I hope," said he. "No apology, pray. You shall not lose the ball, for my girls insist on going to it ; so that we can q.11 opme in together. There- 178 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. now, that is settled. Will you permit me to introduce you to a few of my friends? Here's Mr. Barry Connolly, wishes much to know you— —you'll pardon me, Mr. Hinton, but your name is so familiar to me through my niece, I forget ithat we are not old acquaintances." So saying, the little man took my arm and led me about through the crowd, introducing me right and left. Of the names, the rank, and the residences of my new friends, I knew as much as I did of the domestic arrangements of the King of Congo , but one thing I can vouch for — more unbounded civility and hospitable attention never did man receive. One gentleman begged me to spend a few days with him at his shooting lodge in the mountains — another wanted to make up a coursing-party for me — a third volunteered to mount me if I'd come down in the hunting season ; one and all gave me most posi- tive assurance that if I remained in the country I should neither lack bed nor board for many a day to come. But a few days before, and in my ignorance I had set down this same class as rude, underbred, and uncivilized ; and had I left the country on the preceding evening I should have carried away my prejudices with me. The bare imitation of his better, that the squireen presents, was the source of this blunder; the spurious currency had, by its false glitter, deteriorated the sterling coin in my esteem; but now I could detect the counterfeit from the genuine metal. "The ladies are on this side," said Mr. Dillon. "Shall we make our bow to them ? " "You'll not have time, Dillon," said a friend who overheard his remark : " here come the horses." As he spoke, a distant cheer rose from the bottom of the hill, which, gradually taken up by those nearer, grew louder and louder, till it filled the very air. " What is it ? " said I, eagerly. " It's ' Jug of Punch,' " said a person beside me. "The mare was bred in the neighbourhood, and excites a great interest among the country people." The crowd now fell back rapidly, and Mr. Burke, seated in a high tandem, dashed up to the weighing- stand, and, giving the reins to his servant, sprang to the ground. His costume was a loose coat of course drab clolh, beset on every side by pockets of various shapes and dimensions, long gaiters of the same material encased his legs, and the memorable white hat, sot most rakishly on the head, completed his equipment. Scarcely had he put foot to the ground when he was sur- rounded by a number of his obsequious followers ; but, paying little or no attcTition to their proli'ered civilities, ho brushed rudely through them, and walked straight up to where I was standing. There was an air of swaggering insolence in his JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 179 manner which could not be mistalccn, and I could mark that, in the sidelong jjlance he threw about him, he intended that our colloquy sh(juld be lor the i>ublic ear. Nodding familiarly, while he touched his hat with one linger, he addressed me. " Good morning, sir; 1 am happy to have met you so soon. There is a report that we are to have no race : may I ask you if tlun-e be any ground for it ? " " Not so far as I am concerned," replied I, in a tone of quiet indifference. " At least," resumed he, " there would seem some colour for the rumour. Your horse is not here — I understand he has not left the stable — and your groom is among the crowd below. I only asked the question, as it affects my betting book ; there are doidjtless here many gentlemen among your friends who would wish to back you." This was said with an air of sneering mockery so palpable as to call forth an approving titter i'rom the throng of satellites at his back. AVithout deigning any reply to liis observation, I whispered a icw words to the major, who at once, taking a horse from a farmer, threw himself into the saddle, and cantered off to the mill. " In fifteen minutes the time will be up," said Mr. Burke, pro- ducing his watch. " Isn't that so, Dillon ? You are the judge here." "Perfectly correct." replied the little man, with a hasty con- fused manner, that showed me ia what awe he stood of his redoubted relative. " Then in that time I shall call on you to give the word to start; for I believe the conditions require me to ride over the course, with or without a com]jetitor." So saying, Mr. Burke proceeded leisurely to unbutton his great-coat, which, with the assistance of his friends, he drew off. Two sedulous familiars were meanwhile unbuttoning his gaiters, and in a few seconds he stood forth what even my most prejudiced judgment could not deny, the very heaii ideal of a gentleman rider. His jacket, of black and yellow, bore the stains of more than one race ; but his whole carriage, not less than his costume, looked like one who felt every inch tho jockey. His mare was led within the ropes to be saddled— a proceeding conducted under hi.s own eye, and every step of which ho watched with critical nicety : this done, he sat down upon a bench, and, with watcli in hand, seemed to count the minutes as they flew past. " Here we are — here we are — all right, Hinton ! " shouted the major, as he galloped up the hill. •'Jump into the scale, my lad, your saddle is beside you ; don't lose a moment." i8o JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. "Yes, off with your coat," said another "and jump in." Divesting myself of my outer garments with a speed not second to that of Mr. Burke, I took my saddle under my arm, and seated myself in the scale. The groom fortunately had left nothing to a moment, and my saddle being leaded to the required weight, the operation took not a minute. " Saddle now as quickly as you can," whispered Dillon ; " for Burke, being overweight, won't get into the scale." While he was yet speaking the gallant grey was led in, covered with clothing from head to tail. "All was quite right," said Mahon, in a low whisper — "your horse won't bear a crowd, and the groom kept him stabled to the last moment; you are in luck besides," continued he, " they say he is in a good temper this morning — and, indeed, he walked up from the mill as gently as a lamb " " Mount, gentlemen," cried Mr. Dillon, as, with watch in hand, he ascended a little platform in front of the weighing- stand. I had but time to throw one glance at my horse when the major gave me his hand to lift me into the saddle. "After you, sir," said Mr. Burke with a mock politeness, as he drew back to permit me to pass out first. I touched my horse gently with the snaffle, but he stood stock still : I essayed again, but with no better success. The place was too crowded to permit of any attemj^t to bully him, so I once more tried gentle means; it was of no use; he stood rooted to the ground. Before I could determine what next to do, Mahon sprung forward and took him by the head, when the animal walked quietly forward without a show of restiveness. " He's a droll devil," said the groom, " and in one of his odd humour.s this morning, for that's what I never saw him do before." I could see as I passed out that this little scene, short as it was, had not impressed the by-standers with any exalted notion of my horsemanship ; for although there was nothing , actually to condemn, my first step did not seem to augur well. Having led me forth before the stand, the major pointed with his finger to the line of country before me, and was repeating the priest's injunctions, when Mr. Burke rode up to my side, and, with a smile of very peculiar meaning, said, — "Are you ready noiv, sir?" I nodded assent — the major let go the bridle. "We are all ready, Dillon!" cried Burke, turning in his saddle. " All ready ! " repeated Dillon ; " then away ! " As ho spoke, the bell rang, and off we went. For about thirty yards we cantered side by sido — the grey JACK HI N TON, THE GUARDSMAN. i8i horse keopinj^ stroke with the other, ?.nd not hetraying the sliglitost L'vi(1<'iice of bad temper. Whatever my own surprise, tlie nmii'/cnient of liurk(i was beyond all bounds. He turned completely round m his saJdle to look, and I could see, m the workin<,'s of his features, the distrustful expression of one who suspected he hud been duped. Meanwhile, the cheers of the vast multitude pealed hit,'!? on every side ; and, as the thought Hashed across nae that I niiglit still acquit myself with credit, my courage rose, and I gripped my saddle Avith double energy. At the foot of the slope there was, as I have already men- tioned, a small fence; towards this we were now approaching, at the easy sling of a hand-gallop^ when suddenly Burke's features — which I watched from time to time with intense anxiety — changed their expression of doubt and suspicion for a look of triumphant malice : putting spurs to his hori-e, he sprung a couple of lengths in advance, and rode madly at the fence; the grey stretched out to follow; and already was I preparing for the leap, when Burke, who had now reached the fence, suddenly swerved his horse round, and, affecting to baulk, cantered back towards the hill. The manoeuvre was perfectly successful. ]\Iy horse, who up to that moment was going on well, threw his fore-legs far out, and came to a dead stop. In an instant the trick was palpable to my senses; and, in the heat of my passion, I dashed in both spurs, and en- deavoured to lift him by the rein. Scarcely had I done so, when as if the very ground beneath had jerked us, upwards, he sprang into the air, dashing his head forward between the fore-legs, and throwing up his haunches behind, till I thought we should come clean over in the summersault, I kept my seat, however; and thinking that boldness alone could do at such a moment, I only waited till he reached the ground, when I again diove the spurs up to the rowels in his Hanks; with a snort of passion he bounded madly up, and pawing the air for some moments with his fore-legs, lit upon the earth, panting Avith rage, and trembling in every limb. The shouts which now tilled my ears seemed but like mockery and derision: and stung almost to madness, I fixed myself in my seat, pulled my cap upon my brows, and with clenched teeth gathered up the reins to renew the conflict; there was a pause now for a few seconds; both horse and man seemed to feel there was a deadly strife before them, and each seemed to collect his energy for the blow. The moment came ; and drivinix in the spurs with all my force, 1 struck him with the whip Ijetween the ears. With snmething like a yell, the savage animal sprang into the air, writhing his body like a tish. Bound after bound he made, as though goaded on to madness; and, a,t length, after several fruitless eiibrts to unseat me, he l82 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. dashed straight upwards, struck out with his fore-legs, poised for a second or two, and then with a crash fell back upon me, rolling me to the ground, bruised, stunned, and senseless. How long this state lasted I cannot tell, but when half con- sciousness returned to me, I found myself standing in the field, my head reeling with the shock, my clothes torn and ragged, my horse was standing beside me, with some one at his head ; while another, whose voice I thought I could recognize, called out — " Get up, man, get up ; you'll do the thing well yet. There, don't lose time." " No, no," said another voice, '■ it's a shame ; the poor fellow is half killed already — and there don't you see Burke's at the second fence.'' " Thus much I heard, amid the confusion around me; but more I know not. The next moment I was in the saddle, with only sense enough left to feel reckless to desperation. I cried out to leave the way, and turned towards the fence. A tremendous cut of a whip fell upon the horse's quarter from some one behind ; and, like a shell from a mortar, he sprang wildly out. With one fly he cleared the fence, dashed across the field, and, before I was firm in my seat, was over the second ditch. Burke had barely time to look round him ere I had passed. He knew that the horse was away with me, but he also knew his bottom, and, that if I could but keep my saddle, the chances were now in my favour. Then commenced a terrible struggle. In advance of him, about four lengths, I took everything before me, my horse flying straight as an arrow — I dared not turn my head, but I could mark that Burke was making every effort to get before me; we were now approaching a tall hedge, beyond which lay the deep ground of which the priest had already spoken ; so long as the fences presented nothing of height, the tremendous pace I was going was all in my favour : but now there was fully five feet of a hedge standing before me. Unable to collect him- self, my horse came with his full force against it, and chesting the tangled branches, fell head foremost into the field. Springing, to my legs unhurt, I lifted him at once ; but ere I could remount Burke came bounding over the hedge, and lit safely beside me. With a grin of malice he turned one look towards me, and dashed on. For some seconds my horse was so stunned he could scarcely move, and as I pressed him forward the heavy action of his shoulder and his drooping head almost bid me to des])air. By degrees, however, he warmed up and got into his stride ; before me, and nearly a hundred yards in advance, rode Burke, still keeping up his pace, but skirting the head-lands to my right. I saw now the force of the priest's remark, that were I to take a straight line through the deep groun^l the race was still in my favour; but dare I do so with a horse so dead beat as mine was ? The thought was quick as lightning, it was my only JACK HfNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 183 chance to win, and I resolved to take it. Plunging into the soft and marshy ground before me, I fixed my eye upon the bhio Hag that marked the course; at this niomi'iit Burke turned and saw me. and I could jierceive that he imnifdiately slackened his pace. Yes, thought 1, ho thinks I am ])ounded, but it is not come to that yet; in fact, my horse was improving at every stride, and although the ground was trying, his breeding began to tell, and I could feel that he had plenty of running still in him. Affecting, however, to lift him at every stroke, and seeming to labour to help him through, 1 induced Burke to hold in, until I gradually crept up to the fence before he was within several lengths of it. Tlie grey no .sooner caught sight of the wall than he pricked up his ears and rushed towards it; with a vigorous lift I popped him over, without touching a stone. Burke followed in s])lendid style, and in an instant was along- side of me. Now began the race in right earnest. The cunning of his craft could avail him little here, except as regarded the superior management of his own horse ; so Burke, abandoning every ruse, rode manfully on ; as for me, my courage rose at ever}' moment, and so far from feeling any fear, I only wished that the fences were larger, and like a gambler who would ruin his adversary at one throw, I would have taken a precipice if he pledged himself to follow. For some fields we rode within a few yards of each other, side by side, each man lifting his horse at the same moment to his leap, and alighting with the same shock beyond it. Already our hends were turned homewards, and I could mark on the distant hill the far-off crowds whose echoing shouts came floating towards us ; but one fence of any consequence remained, that was the large gripe that formed the last of the race; we had cleared a low stone wall, and now entered the field that led to the great leap : it was evident that Burke's horse, both from being spared the shocks that mine had met with, and from his better riding, was the fresher of the two ; we had neither of us, however, much to boast of on that score, and, perhaps, at a calmer moment would have little fancied facing such a leap as that before us. It was evident that the first over must win, and as each man measured the other's stride, the intense anxiety of the moment nearly rose to madness; from the instant of en- tering the field I had marked out with my eye where I meant to take the leap — Burke had evidently done this also, and wo now slightly diverged, each to his allotted spot. The pace was awful. All thought of danger lost, or forgotten, we came nearer and nearer with knitted brow and clenched lip — I, the first. Already I was on the side ; with a loud cry and a cut of my whip I rose my horse to it; the noble beast sprang forward, but his strength was spent, and he fell downwards on his head ; re- covering him without losing my seat I scrambled up the opposite 1 84 IfACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. bank and looked round. Burke, who had pressed the jDace so hotly before, had only done so to blow my horse and break him down at his leap ; and I saw him now approaching the fence with his mare tully in hand, and her haunches well under her. Unable to move forward, save at a walk, I turned in my saddle to watch him ; he came boldly to the brink of the fence ; his hand was up prepared to strike, already the mare was collecting her- self for the effort, when from the bottom of the gripe a hgure sprang wildly up, and as the horse rose into the air, he jumped at the bridle, pulling down both the horse and the rider with a crash upon him, a loud cry of agony rising 'mid the struggle. As they disappeared from my sight I felt like one in a trance ; all thoughts, however, were lost in the desire to win, and collect- ing my energies for a last struggle I lifted the gallant grey with both hands, and by dint of spurring and shaking, pressed him to a canter, and rode in, the winner, amid the deafening cheers and cries of thousands. "Keep back— keep back," cried Mahon, restraining with his whip the crowd that bore down upon me. " Hinton, take care that no one touch your horse, ride inside, take off jour saddle and get into the scale." Moving onwards like one in a dream, I mechanically obeyed the direction, while the cries and shouts around me grew each moment louder and wilder " Here he comes — here he comes ! " shouted several voices, and Burke galloped up, and without drawing rein rode into the weighing-stand " Foul play ! "' roared he in a tone hoarse with passion. " I protest against the race. Holloa, sir," he shouted, turning to- wards me. '■ There, there," said Mahon, as he hurried me along towards the scale, •' you have nothing to do with him ; " and at the same moment a number of others pressed eagerly forward to shake my hand and wish me joy '' Look here, Dillon," cried the major, "mark the weight — twelve stone two, and two pounds over, if he wanted it. There now," v/hispered he in a voice which though not meant for my hearing I couid distinctly catch, " there now, Dillon, take him into your carriage and get iiim off the ground as fast as you can." Just at this instant Burke, who had been talking with loud voice and violent gesticulation, burst through the crowd, and stood before us. '• Do you say, Dillon, that T have lost this race .P " '■ Yes, yes, lo be sure," cried out full twenty voices. " J\ly question was not addressed to you, sirs," said he, boiling with passion; "I ask the judgii of this course, have I lost.P " "MydearUlick "said Dillon, in a voice scarce audible from agitation, JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 185 " No cursed palaver with me," said lie interrupting. "Lost or won, sir — one word." " Lo.st, of course," replied Dillon, with more of lirmness than I believed him ca|)al)le. " Well, sir." siiid Buikc, as he turned towards ine, his teeth clenched with passion, '• it may be some alluy to your triuuii)h to know that your accomplice has smashed his thigh-bone in your service; and yet I can tell 3'ou you have not come to the end of this matter." Before I could reply, Burke's friends tore him from the spot and hurried him to a carriage; while 1, still more than ever puzzled by the words 1 had heard, looked from one to the other of those around for an explanation. "Nevermind, llititon," .said JMahoii, as, half-breathless with running, he rushed up and seized me by the hand. "The poor fellow was discharging a double debt in his own rude way; gratitude on your score, vengeance on his own." "Tally-ho, tally-ho! — hark, there — stole away!" shouted a wild cry from without, and at the same instant ibur couiitr^'ineu came forward, carrying a door between them, on which was stretched the pale and mangled figure of Ti[)perary Joe. " A drink of water — s])ints—tay— anything lor the love of the Virgin ! I'm famished, and I want to drink Captain Phil's health. Ah, darling ! " said he, as he turned his filmy eyes up towards me. "didn't I do it beautiful; didn't I pay him off for this .^ " With these words he pointed to a blue welt that stretched across his face, from the mouth to the ear; "ho gave me that yester- day, for saying long life and success to you ! " " Oh ! this is too horrible," said I, gasping for breath, " my poor fellow; and I who had treated you so harshly "I took his hand in mine, but it was cold and clammy, his features were sunken too — he had fainted. " Come, Hinton," said tlie major, " we can do no good here; let us move down to tlie inn at once, and see after this poor boy." " You are coming with us, Mr. Ilinton ?" cried Dillon. " Not now, not no\v,"_sai'i I, while my throat was swellinjj with repressed emotion. Without suffering me to say more, Mahon almost lifted me into the tax-cart, and, putting his horse to the gallop, dashed towards the town, the cheers of the people following us as we went: for, to their wild sense of justice, Joe was a genuine martyr, and I shared in the glory of his self-devotion. The whole way towards Loughrea Mahon continued to talk, but not a word could I catch ; my thoughts were fixed on the poor fellow who had sutl'ered for my sake, and I would have given all I possessed in the world to have lost the race, and seen him safe and sound before me. 186 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " There, there !" said the major, as he shook me by the arm; " doivt take it to heart this way ; you know little of Ireland, that's plain : that poor fellow will be prouder for the feeling you have shown towards him this night, than many a king upon his throne. To have served a gentleman, to have put him under an obligation; — tJiat has a charm you can't estimate the extent of. Beware, only beware of one thing — do not by any offer of money destroy the illusion ; do what you like for him, but take care of that." AVe now reached the little inn, and Mahon —for I was incap- able of all thought or exertion — 'got a room in readiness for Joe, and summoning the doctor of the place, provided every thing for his care and accommodation. " Now, Hinton," said he, as he burst into my room, " all's right ; Joe is comfortable in bed ; the fracture turns out not to be a bad one. So rouse yourself, for Dillon's carriage with all its ladies is waiting these ten minutes." "'No, no, ' cried 1 ; "I can't go to this dinner-party ; I'll not quit " " Nonsense, man ! " said he, interrupting me ; " you can only do harm here ; the doctor says he must be left quite quiet, and alone ; — besides, Dillon has behaved so well to-day — so stoutly, for him, that you mustn't forget it. There now, where are your clothes ? I'll pack them for you." I started up to obey him, but a giddiness came over me, and I sank into my chair, weak and sick. "This will never do," ss^id Mahon ; "I had better tell them I'll drive you over myself; and now, just lie down for an hour or two, and keep quiet." This advice I felt was good, and thanking my kind friend with a squeeze of the hand, lor I could not speak, I threw myself upon my bed, and strange enough, while such contending emo- tions disturbed my brain, fell asleep almost immediately. CHAPTER XXVi. THE DINNER- PABTY AT MOUNT-BROTTSr. I AWOKE refreshed after half-an-hour's doze, and then every circumstance of the whole day was clear and palpable before me. I remembered each minute particular, and could bring to my mind all the details of the race itself, notwithstanding the e.x- citement they had passed in, and the rapidity with which they succeeded each other. My first thought waa to visit poor Joe, and creeping stealthily yACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 1S7 to his room, T opened thfi door. The poor fellow was fast asleep, his features had already liecomo coloured with fever, and a red hectic spot on either clioek told that the work of mischief had begun ; yet still his sleep was trancjuil, and a half smile curled his bloodless lips. On his bed his old huntiug-cap was placed, a bow of white and green ribbons — the colours 1 wore — fastened gaudily in the front; upon this, doubtless, he had been gazing to the last moment of Ins walcing. I now stole noiselessly back and l)ogan a letter to O'Grady, whose anxiety as to the result would, I knew, be considerable. It was not without pride, I confess, that I narrated the events of the day ; yet when I came to that part of my letter in which Joe was to be mentioned, I could not avoid a sense of shame iu acknowledging the cruel contrast between my conduct and Ms gratitude. I did not attempt to theorise upon what he had done ; for i felt that O'Grady's better knowledge of his countrymen would teach him to sound the depths of a motive, the surface of which I but could skmi. I told him frankly that the moi-e I saw of Ireland the less I found I knew about it: so much of sterling good seemed blended with unsettled notions, and unfixed opinions, such warmth of heart, such frank cordiality, with such traits of suspicion and distrust, that I could make nothing of them. Either, thought I, these people are born to present the anomaly of all that is most opposite and contradictory in human nature, or else the fairest gifts that ever graced manhood have been perverted and abused by mismanagement and mis- guidance. I had just finished my letter when Bob Mahon drove up, his honest face radiant with smiles and good-humour. '* Well, Hinton," cried he, " the whole thing is properly settled — the money is paid over, and if you are writing to O'Grady, you may mention that he can draw on the Limerick bank, at sight if he pleases : there's time enough, however, for all this ; so get up beside me ; we've only half an hour to do our five miles, and dress for dinner." I took my pl.ice beside the major, and as we flew fast througli the air, the cool breeze and his enlivening conversation rallied and refreshed me. Such was our pace, we had ten minutes to spare, i as we entered a dark avenue of tall beech trees, and a few seconds after arrived at the door of a large old-fashioned-looking manor-house, on the steps ot whioh stood llugli Dillon himself, in all the plenitude of a white waistcoat and black silk tights. While he hurried me to a dressing-room he overwhelmed me with felicitations on the result of the day. " You'll think it strange, Mr. Hinton," said he, "that I should congratulate you, knowing, that LIr. Burke is a kind of relation of mine — but I have heard so much of your kindness to my niece, Louisa, that I Oftunot but rejoice iu your success." i88 JACK HiNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " I should rather," said I, " for many reasons, had it been more legitimately obtained ; and, indeed, were I not acting for another, I doubt how far I should feel justified in considering myself a winner." " My dear sir," interrupted Dillon, " the laws of racing are imperative in the matter ; besides, had you waived your right, all who backed you must have lost their money." " For that matter," said I, laughing, " the number of my supporters was tolerably limited." *' No matter for that, and even if you had not a single bet upon you, Ulick's conduct, in the beginning, deserved little favour at yoLir hands." "I confess," said I, "that there you have touched on the saving clause to my feeling of shame ; had Mr. Burke con- ducted himself in a different spirit towards my friend and myself, I should feel sorely puzzled this minute." " Quite right, quite right," said Dillon ; •' and now try if you can't make as much haste with your Loilette as you did over the clover field." Within a quarter of an hour I made my appearance in the drawmg-room, now crowded with company, the faces of many among whom I remembered having seen in the morning. Mr. Dillon was a widower, but his daughters — three fine, tall, hand- some-looking girls — did the honours. While I was making my bows to them, Miss Bellew came forward, and with an eye bright with pleasure held out her hand towards me. " I told you, Mr. Hinton, we should meet in the west ; have I been as good a prophetess in saying that you would like it?" 'If it afforded me but this one minute," said I.in a half whisper. "Dinner," said the servant, and at the same moment that scene of pleasant confusion ensued that preludes the formal descent of a ]iarty to the dining-room. The host had gracefully tucked a large lady under his arm, beside whose towering proportion he looked pretty much like what architects call " a lean-to," superadded to a great building. He turned his eye towards me " to go and do likewise," with a significant glance at a heaving mass of bugles and ostrich feathers that sat panting on a sofa. I parried the stroke, however, by drawing Miss Bellew's arm within mine, while I resigned the post of honour to my little friend the major. The dinner passed off like all other dinners : there was the same routine of eating and drinking, and pretty much the same ritual of table-talk. As a kind ot commentary on the supe- riority of natural gifts over the affected and imitated graces of society, 1 could not help remarking that those things which figured on the table, of homely origin, were actually luxurious, while the exotic resources of the cookery were, in every instance, miserable failures. Thus the fish was excellent, and the mutton 'yACK iiiNTOX, Tin: guardsmax. 189 perfect, "ivhile W\q filcandcau was atrocious, aud Wvi ])cl[ls 'palcs execnilil(\ SlioiiM my tasto bn criticised, that with a lovely fjirl beside me, fur whom I alivinly felt a strong attachment, I could thus set myself to criticise the cuisine, in lieu of any other mora agreeable occupation, let my apolo^ry be, that mv reflection was an ai)ro|)Os, called forth by comparing Louisa Bellew with her cous-iiis, the Dillons. I have said they were handsome girls; they were more — they were beautiful : they had all that tine pencilling of the eye-brow, that deep, square orliit, so characteristically Irish, and which gives an expression to the eye, whatever be its colour, of inexpressible soilness; tliLsir voices too, albeit the accent was provincial, were soft and musical, and their mauner^J quiet and ladydike, yet, somehow, they stood immeasurably apart Ironi her. I have already ventured on one illustration from the cookery, may I take another from the cellar? How often in wines of the same vintage, of even tlie same cask, do we fine one bottle, whose bouquet is more aromatic, whose tlavour is richer, whoso colour IS more purely brilliant. There seems to be no reason why this should be so, nor is the secret appreciable to our senses; how- ever, the fact is incontestable. So among women • you meet some half-dozen in an evening party, equally beautiful, equallv lovely, yet will there be found one among the number towards whom, without any assignable cause, more eyes are turned, and more looks bent ; around wliose chair more men are found to linger, and in whose slightest word some cunning eharni seems ever mingled. Why is this so? I confess I cannot tell you, but trust me for the fact. If, however, it will satisfy you that I adduce an illustration — Louisa Bellew was otie of these. With all the advantages of a cultivated mind, she possessed that fearlessness that only girls really innocent of worldly trickery and deceit ever have ; and thus, while her conversation ranged far beyond the limits the cold ordeal of fashion would prescribe to a Lundon beauty, the artless enthufciasm of her manner was absolutely captivating. In Dublin the most marked feature about her was an air of lofty ])ridc and hauteur, by which, in the mixed society of Kooney's house, was sh'j alone enabled to repel the obtrusive and impertinent attentions it w?.s the habit of the place to practise. Surrounded by those who resorted there for a lounge, it was a matter of no common diiiiculty for her, a young and timid girl, to assert her own poi^ition, and exact the respect th:it was her due. Here, however, in her uncle's house, it was quite ditl'erent. Ixelieved from all ]:)erformance of a part, she was natural, graceful, and oa.sy ; and her spirits, untrammelled by the dread of misconstruction, took their own free and happy flight without fear and without reproach. P I90 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. When we returned to the drawing-room, seated beside her, I entered into an explanation of all my proceedings since my arrival in the country, and had the satisfaction to perceive, that not only did she approve of everything I had done, but, assuming a warmer interest than I could credit in my fortunes, she counselled me resi^ecting the future. Supposing that my success might induce me to further trials of my horsemanship, she cautioned me about being drawn into any matches or wagers. "My cousin, Ulick," said she, "is one of those who rarely let a jirey escape them. I speak frankly to you, for I know I may do so; therefore, I would beseech you to take care of him, and, above all things, do not come into collision with hmi. I have told you, Mr. Hinton, that I wish you to know my father : for this object, it is essential you should have no misunderstanding with my cousin ; for although his whole conduct, through life, has been such as to grieve and afflict him, yet the feeling for his only sister's child has sustained him against all the rumours and reports that have reached him, and even against his own convictions." " You have, indeed," said I, " suggested a strong reason for keeping well with your cousin : my heart is not only bent on being known to your father, but, if I dare hope it, on being liked by him also." "Yes, yes," said she, quickly, bli^shing while she spoke, " I am sure he'll like you — and I know you'll like him. Our house, perhaps I should tell you, is not a gay one : we lead a secluded and retired life, and this has had its eifect upon my poor father, giving a semblance of discontent — only a semblance, though — to a nature mild, manl}'-, and benevolent." She paused an instant, and, as if fearing that she had been led away to speak of things she should not have touched upon, added with a more lively tone — " Still, we may contrive to amuse j^ou : j'ou shall have plenty of fishing and coursing, the best shooting in the west, and, as for scenery, I'll answer for it you arc not disappointed." While we chatted thus, the time rolled on, and at last the clock on the mantel-piece apprized us that it was time to set out for the ball. This, as it may be believed, was anything but a promise of ])leasure to me. With Louisa Bellew beside me, talking iti a tone of confidential intimacy she had never ventured on before, I would have given worlds to have remained where I was ; however, the thing was impossible ; the Ball — the Ball ! passed from lip to lip, and already the carriages were assembled before the door, and cloaks, hoods, and mantles were distributed Dn all sides. Eesolving, nt all events, io secure Miss Bellew as my fellow- iravcUer, I took her arm to lead her down stairs. JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 191 " Holloa, Hinton," cried the majcr, " you're coming with me, ain't you 1 " I got up a tremendous fit of coughing, as I Btammered out an apology about night air, &c. '' All, true, my poor follow," said the simple-hearted Bob, "you must take care of yourself — this has been a severe day's work for you." " With such a heavy cold," said Louisa, laughing, as her bright eyes sparkled with fun, " perhaps you'll take a seat in our carriage." I pressed her arm gently, and whispering my assent, assisted her in, and placed myself beside her. CHAPTER XXVII. THE KACE BALL. Fast as had been the pace in the major's tax-cart, it seemed' to me as though the miles tlew much more quickly by as I returned to the town ; how indeed they passed I cannot well say; but, from the moment that I quitted Mr. Dillon's house to that of my arrival in Loughrea, there seemed to bo but one brief, delightful moment. I have already said that Miss Bellew's manner was quite changed ; and, as I assisted her from the carriage, I could not but mark the flashing brilliancy of her eye and the sparkling animation of her features, lending, as they did, an added loveli- ness to her beauty. " Am I to dance with you, Mr. Hinton ?" said she laughingly, as I led her \x\> the stairs. " If so, pray, be civil enough to ask me at once ; otherwise, I must accept the first partner that offers himself." •' How very stupid I have been ! Will you, pray, let me have the honour ? " " Yes, yes — you shall have the honour ; but, now that I think of it, you mustn't ask me a second time: we country folk aro very prudish about these things ; and, as you are the lion of the party, I should get into a sad scrape were I appear to monopolize you." •' But you surely will have compassion on me," said I in a tone of aft'octcd bashfulness. " You know I am a stranger here — neither known to, nor by any one save you." " Ah, treve de modestie ! " said she coquettishly. " My cousins will be quite delighted, and, indeed, you owe them some amende already." 192 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " As how ? " said I ; " what have I done ? " " Rather, what have you left undone ? I'll tell you. You have not come to the ball m your fine uniform, with your aignillefte and your showy feathers, and all the pride, pomp, and circumstance of your dignity as aide-de-camp. Learn, that in the west we love the infantry, doat on the dragoons, but we adore the staff. Now, a child would find it as difficult to recog- nize a plump gentleman without a star on his breast as a hing, as we western ladies would, to believe in the military features of a person habited in quiet black. You should, at least, have some symbol of your calling. A little bit of moustache like a French- man — a foreign order at your button-hole — your arm in a sling, from a wound as it were — even a pair of brass sjaurs would redeem you. Poor Mary here won't believe that you wear a great sword, and are the most warlike-looking person imaginable on occasions." "Dearest Louisa, how silly you are ! " said her cousin, blush- ing deeply. " Pray, Mr. Hiuton, what do you think of the rooms ? " This question happily recalled mc to myself: for up to that very moment, forgetful of everything save my fair companion, I had not noticed our entrance into the ball-room, around which we were promenading with slow steps. I now looked up, and discovered that we were in the town-hall, the great room of which building was generally reserved for occasions like the present. Nothing could be more simple than the decorations of the apartment. The walls, which were white-washed, were tastefully ornamented with strings and wreaths of ilowers sus- pended between the iron chandeliers, while over the chimney- piece were displayed the colours of the marching regiment then quartered in the town : indeed, to do them justice, the garrison were the main contributors to the pleasures of the evening. By thevi were the garlands so gracefully disposed ; by thevi, were the rat-holes and other dangerous crevices in the floor caulked with oakum; their band was now blowing " God Save the King" and " Rule Britannia " alternately for the last hour, and tJiclr officers, in all the splendour of scarlet, were parading the room, breaking the men's hearts with envy and the women's with admiration. O'Grady was quite right — it is worth while being a soldier in Ireland ; and, if such be the case in the capital, how ranch more true is it in (Jonnaught ? Would that some minute anatomist of human feeling could demonstrate that dehcate fibre in an Irish- woman's heart that vibrates so responsively to everything in the army-list! In this happy land you need no nitrous oxydo to promote the high spirits of your party ; I had rather have a sub in a marching regiment, than a whole gasometer full of it. How often have 1 watched the sleepy eye of languid loveliuesg I JACK JIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 193 brit,'litcn up— how often have I seen features almost plain in their character assume a kind of beauty, as some red-coat drew near! 'Don't tell me of jdur insurrection acts, of your ni|,'htly outrages, our outbreaks, and your burnings, as a reason i'or kcepiuj,' a arge military force m Ireland, nothing of the kind. A very diiferent object, indeed, is the reason — Ireland is garrisoneil to please the ladies. The War-oiKce is the most gallant of jmblic bodies, and, Avith a true appreciation of the daughters of the west, it inundates the land with red-coats. These observations ■were forced upon me as I looked about the room, and saw on every side how coin])letely the gallant seventy-something had cut f>ut the country gentry. Poor fellows ! you are great i)eopIe at the assizes — you are strong men at a road-sessions — but you're miglity small folk indeed before your wives and daughters, M'hen looked at to the music of " PadJy Carey," and by the light of two hundred and fifty mutton-candles. The country-dance was at length formed, and poor i\rr. Harkin, the master of the ceremonies and Coryphosus in ordin- ary of Loughrea, had, by dint of scarce less fatigue than I experienced in my steeplechase, by running hither and thither, imploring, beseeching, wheedling, coaxing, and even cursing, at length succeeded in assembling sixty-four souls in a double file upon the floor. Poor fellow ! never was there a more disorderly force. Nobody would keep his own place, but was always trying to get above his neighbour. In vam did he tell the men to stand at their own side. Alas ! they thought that side their own where the ladies were also. Then the band added to his miseries , for scarcely had he told them to play " The Wind tliat shakes the Barley," when .'■•ome changed it to "The Priest in his Boots;" and afterwards to "The Dead ]\Iarch in Saul." These were heavy atllict ions ; for be it known that he could not give wa)^ as other men would in such cir- cumstances, to a good outbreak of jiassion — for Mr. Harkin was a public functionary, who, like all other functionaries, had a character to sustain before the world. When kings are angry, we are told by Shakspeare, Schiller, and others, that they rant it in good royal style. Now, when a dancing-master is excited by passion, he never loses sight of the unities. If he flies down the floor to chide the little fat man that is talking so loud, he contrives to do it with a step, a spring, and a hop, to the time of one, two, three. Is there a confusion in the figure — he advances to rectify it with a chasse rigadoon. Does IMr. Some- body turn his toea too much out, or is Miss So-and-so holding her petticoats too high — he fugles the correction in his own person, first iniilating the deformity he would expose, and then displaying the perfection he would point to. On the evening in question this gentleman afforded me by far the most of the amusement of the ball; nearly half the company 194 JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. had been in time of yore his pupils, or were actually so at the very moment; so that, independent of his cares as con- ductor of the festivities, he had also the amour propre of one who saw his own triumphs rejected in the success of his disciples. At last the dances were arranged. A certain kind of order ■was established in the party, and Mr. Harkm, standing in the fifth position, with all his fingers expanded, gave three symbolic claps of his hand, and cried out " begin ! "_ Away went the band at once, and down the middle I flew with my partner, to the measure of a quick country dance, that no human legs could keep time to. Two others quickly followed, more suc- ceeding them like wave after wave — nothing was too fat, nothing too short, nothing too long, to dance. There they were, as ill- paii'ed as though, instead of ti-eading a merry measure, they had been linked in the very bonds of matrimony — old and young, the dwarf and the brobdignag, the plump and the lean, each laughing at the eccentricities of his neighbour, and happily indifferent to the mirth he himself afforded. By-the- bye, what a glorious thing it would be if we could carry out this principle of self-esteem into all our reciprocity-treaties, and, while we enjoyed what we derive from others, be unconscious of the loss we sustained ourselves ! Unlike our English performance, the dance here was as free- and-easy a thing as needs be. Down the middle you went,holding, mayhap squeezing, your partner's hand, laughing, joking, flirting, venturing occasionally on many a bolder flight than at other times you could have dared ; for there was no time for the lady to be angry, as she tripped along to " The Hare in the Corn; " and besides, but little wisdom could be expected from a man, while performing more antics than Punch in a pantomime. "With all this, there was a running fire of questions, replies, and recognitions, from every one you passed — " That'rf it, captain : push along — begad, you're doing it well ! " "Don't forget to-morrow ! " " Hands round ! " " Hasn't she a leg of her own !"— " Keep it up ! " " This way! — turn, Miss Malone !" — "You'll come to breakfast" "How are ye, Joe ? " &c. Scarcely was the set concluded, when Miss Bellew was en- gaged by another partner; while I, at her suggestion, invited her cousin Mary to become mine. The ball-room was now crowded with people : the mirth and fun grew fast and furious ; the country-dance occupied the whole length of the room — and round the walls were disposed tables for whist or loo, where the elders amused themselves with as much pleasure, and not less noise. I fear that I gave my fair partner but a poor impression of an aide-de-camp's gallantry — answering at random, speaking vaguely and without coherence, my eyes fixed on Miss Bellew, JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 195 delighted when by chance I could catch a look from her, and fretful and impatient when she smiled at some remark of her partner. In fact, love has as many Ktages as a i'over, and I was in that acnte period of the malady when the feeliug of devotion, growiiicj every moment stronger, is chequered by a doubtlest the object of your ail'ections should really be indifferent to you — thus suggesting all the torturing agonies of jealousy to your distracted mind. At such times as these a man can scarcely be very agreeable even to the girl he loves; but he is a confounded boro to a cliancc acquaintance. So, indeed, did poor Mary Dillon seem to think ; and as, at the conclusion of the dance, I resigned lier hand to a lieutenant somebody, Avith pink cheeks, black eyebrows, and a most martial air, 1 saw she looked upon her escape as a direct mercy from Providence. Just at this moment, Mr. Dillon, who had only been waiting for the propitious moment to pounce upon me, seized me by the arm, and led me down the room. There was a charming woman dying to know me in one corner; — the best cock-shooting in Ireland wished to make my acquaintance in another; — thirty thousand pounds, and a nice little property in Leitrim, was sighing tor me near the lire; and three old ladies the " ^ros*' bonnets" of the land, had kept the tburth place at the whist table vacant for my sake, and were at length growing impatient at my absence. Non snnt vica verba, good reader. — Such was Mr. Dillon's representation to me, as he hurried me along, presenting me as he went to every one we met — a ceremony in which I soon learned to perform my part respectably, by merely repeating a formula I had adopted for my guidance — "Delighted to know you, Mr. Burke," or" Charmecl to make your acquaintance, Mrs. French;" for as nine tenths of the men were called by the one, and nearly all the ladies by the other ai^pellation, I seldom blundered in my addresses. The evening wore on, but the vigour of the party seemed •unabated. The fatigues of fashionable life seemed to be little known in Ireland as its apathy and its ennui. Poor, be- nighted people I you appear to enjoy society, not as a refuge for your own weariness, not as an escape-valve for your own vapours, but really as a source of pleasurable emotions— an occasion for drawing closer the bonds of intimacy, for being agreeable to your friends, and for making yourselves happy. Alas ! you have much to learn in this respect ; you know not yet how pre- ferable is the languid look of blase beauty, to the brilliant eye and glowing cheek of happy girlhood ; you know not how superior is the cutting sarcasm, the whispered equivoque, to the kind welcome and the affectionate greeting; and while ea- ioying the pleasure of meeting your friends, you absolutely for get to be critical upon their cliaracters or their costume. What a pity it is that good-nature is under-bred^ and good 196 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. feeling is vulgarity ; for after all, while I contrasted the tone of everything around me with the superciHous cant and unim- passioned coldness ot London manners, I could not but confessto myself that the difference was great, and the interval enormous. To which side my own heart incUned it needed not my affection for Louisa Bellew to tell me; 3-es, I had seen enough of life to learn how far are the real gifts of worth and excellence pre- ferable to the adventitious polish of high society. While these thoughts rushed through my mind, another flashed across it. What, if my lady-mother were here ! What, if my proud cousin ! how would her dark eyes brighten, as some absui'd or ludicrous feature of the company would suggest its " mot'^ of malice, or its speech of sarcasm ! how would tlieir air, their carriage, their deportment, appear in lier sight ! I could picture to myself the cold scorn of her manner towards the men, the insulting courtesy of her demeanour to the women ; the affected '* 72 a; yc^e " with which she would question them as to their everyday habits, and habitudes, their usages and their wants, as though she were inquiring into the manners and customs of South- Sea islanders ! I could imagine the ineffable scorn with which she would re- ceive what were meant to be kind and polite attentions ; and I could fashion to myself her look, her manner, and her voice, when escaping, as she would call it, from her "Nuit parmi les sauvages : " she would caricature every trait, every feature of the party, converting into food for laughter their frank and hospitable bearing, and making their very warmth of heart the groundwork of a scarcasm ! The ball continued with unabated vigour, and as, in obedience to Miss Bellew's request, I could not again ask her to dance, I myself felt little inclination to seek for another partner. The practice of the place seemed, however, as imperatively to exclude idleness as the discipline of a man-of-war. If you were not dancing you ought to be playing cards, making love, drinking negus, or exchanging good stories with some motherly fat old lady, too heavy for a reel, too stupid for loo. In this dilemma I cut into a round game, which I remember often to have seen at Kooney's, technically called speculation. A few minutes before, and I was fancying to myself what my mother would think of all this ; and now, as I drew my chair to the table, I muttered a prayer to my own heart that she might never hear of my doings. How strange it is that we would much rather be de- tected in some overt act of vice than caught in any ludicrous situation or absurd position ! I could look my friends and family steadily enough in the face, while standing amid all the black-legs of Epsom and the swindlers of Ascot, exchanging with them the courtesies of life, and talking on terms of easy and familiar intercourse ; yet would I rather have been seen with the veriest pickpocket in fashionable life than seated amid that re- Jack iiinton, the cuardsmak. 197 Bpectable and irreproachable party who shook their sides with ]au;,'litcr around tlio card-table ! Truly, it was a inerry pame, and well suited fur a novice, as it required no teaching. Each person had his tlircc cards dealt liiui, one of which was displayed to the company in rutation. Did this happen to be a knave, or some other equally reproachful character, the owner was mulcted to the sum of live pence ; and he must indeed have had a miser's heart who could regret a penalty so jirovocative of mirth ! Often as the event took place, the fun never seemed to grow old; and from the exuberance of the delight, and the unceasing flow of the laughter, 1 began to wonder witliin myself if these same cards had not some secret and symbolic meaning, unknown to the neophyte. But the drollery did not end here : you might sell your luck, and put up your hand to auction. Tliis led to innumerable droll allusions and dry jokes, and in fact, if ever a game was contrived to make one's sides ache, this was it. A few sedate and sober people there were, who, with bent brow and pursed-up lip, watched the whole proceeding; they were the secret police of the card-table ; it was in vain to attcm])t to conceal your luckless knave from their prying eyes; with the glance of a tax-collector they pounced upon the defaulter, and made him pay ; rarely or never smiling themselves, they really felt all the eagerness, all the excitement of gamblmg; and I question, if alter all, their hard looks and stern features were not the best fun of the whole. After about two hours thus occupii'd, during which I had won the esteem and afiection of several elderly ladies, by the equani- mity and high-mindedness with wjiich I bore up against the loss of two whole baskets of counters, amounting to the sum of four-and-sixpence, I felt my shoulder gently touched, and at the same moment Bob Mahon whispered in my ear — " The Dillons are going; and he wants to speak a word with you : so give me your cards, and slip away." Resigning my place to the major, whose advent was received with evident signs of dissatisfaction, inasmuch as he was a shrewd player, I hurried through the room to find out Dillon. "Ah I here he is," said Miss Ik'llew to her unele, while slie pointed to me. " How provoking to go away so early — isn't it, Mr. Hinton'^" "You, doubtless, feel it so," said I, with something of pique in my manner ; " your evening has been 5>o agreeably passed." " And yours, too, if I am to judge from the laughter of your card-table. I am sure I never heard so noisy a party. "Well, Mary ! does he consent ? " "iSTo: papa is still obstinate: and the carriage is ordered. He says we shall have so much gaiety tnis week that we must go huiiie early to-night." 198 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. "There! tliere! now be good girls; get on your muffling, and let us be off ! Ah ! Mr. Hinton ! — the very man I wanted. Will you do us the very great favour of coming over for a few days to Mount Brown P We shall have the partridge-shooting after to-morrow, and I think I can show you some sport. May I send in for you in the morning.'' What hour will suit vou? You will not refuse me, I trust." " I need not say, my dear sir, how obliged I feel for, and with what pleasure I should accept your kind invitation ; but the truth is, I've come away without leave of absence : the duke may return any day, and I shall be in a sad scrape.'' " Do you think, a few days ? " A look from Louisa Bellew, at this moment, came most powerfully in aid of her uncle's eloquence. I hesitated, and looked uncertain how to answer. _ "There, gu'ls ! now is your time; he is half persuaded to do a kind thnig. Do, try and convince him the whole way. Come, Mary ! Fanny ! Louisa ! " A second look from Miss Beilew decided the matter; and as a flush of pleasure coloured my cheek, I shook Dillon warmly by the hand, and promised to accept his invitation. " That is like a really good fellow," said the little man, with a face sparkling with pleasure. " Now, what say you, if we drive over for you about two o'clock .5^ The girls are coming into make some purchases, and we shall all drive out together." This an-angement, so very palatable to me, was agreed upon, and 1 now took Miss Bellew's arm to lead her to the carriage. On descending to the hall a delay of a few minutes ensued, but the number of vehicles prevented the carriage coming up. The weather appeared to have changed ; and it was now raining heavily, and blowing a perfect storm. As the fitful gusts of wind howled along the dark corridors of the old building, dashing the rain upon our faces even where we stood, I drew my fair companion closer to my side, and held her cloak more firmly round her. What a moment was that ! her arm rested on mine : her very tresses were blown each moment across my cheek. — I know not what I said, but I felt that in the tones of my voice they were the ntterings of my heart that fell from my lips. I had not remembered that Mr. Dillon had already placed his daughters in the carriage, and was calling to us loudly to follow. "No, no; I pray you not," said Louisa, in reply to I know not what. " Don't you hear my uncle .P " In her anxiety to press forward she had slightly disengaged her arm from mine as she spoke. At this instant a man rushed forward, and catching her hand, drew it rudely within his arm, calling out as he did so — JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 199 " Never fear, Louisa ; you shall not be insulted while your cousin is here to protect you." She sprauf; round to reply. — "You are mistaken, Ulick ! It is Mr. lliuton ! " She could say no more ; for he lifted her into the carriage, and, clos^ing the door with a loud bang, desired the coachman to drive on. Stupefied with amazement, I stood still and motionless. My first impulse was to strike him to the ground; for although a younger and a weaker man, I felt within me at the moment thu strength to do it-; My next thought was, of Louisa's warning not to quarrel with her cousin. The struggle was indeed a severe one, but I gained the victory over m)' passion. Unable, however, to quit the spot, I stood with my arms folded, and my eyes riveted upon him. He returned my stare; and with a sneer of insuft'erable insolence passed me by, and walked up stairs. Not a word was spoken on either side ; but there are moments in one's lilcin which a look or passing glance rivets an undying hate. Such an one did we exchange, and nothing that the tongue could speak could compass that secret instinct by which we ratified our ennnt}'. With slow uncertain steps I mounted the stairs : some strange fascination led me, as it wei'c, to dog his steps; and although in my heart I prayed that no collision should ever come between us, yet I could not resist the headlong impulse to follow, and to watch him. Like that unexplained temptation that leads the gazer over some lofty j^recipice, to move on, step by step yet nearer to the brink, conscious of his danger, yet unable to recede ; so did I track this man from place to place, following him as he passed from one group to the other of his friends, till at length he seated himself at a table, around which a number of person.s were engaged in noisy and boisterous conversation ; he filled a tumbler to the brim with wine, and drinking it off at a draught, refilled again. " You are thirsty, Ulick," said some one. '•Thirsty! On fire, by G . You'll not believe me v.-hen I tell you — I can't do it; no, by heaven ! there is nothing in the way of provocation " As he said thus much, some lady passing near induced him to drop his voice, and tiie remainder of the sentence was inaudible to me. Hitherto I had been standing beside his chair; I now moved round to the opposite side of the table, and, with my arms folded and my eyes firmly fixed, stood straight before him. For an instant or two he did not remark me, as he continued to speak with his head bent downwards. Smldenly lifting up his eyes, lie started — pushed his chair slightly ])nck from the table — " And look !— see ! " cried he, as with outstretched finger ho pointed toward me — "see ! if he isn't there again ! "' 20O JACK HI NT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. Then suddenly clianging the tone of his voice to one of affected softness, he continued, addi'essmg me — " I have been explaining, sir, as well as my poor powers will permit, the excessive pains I have taken to persuade you to prove yourself a gentleman : one half the trouble you have put me to would have told an Irish gentleman what was looked for at his hands ; you appear, however, to be the best-tempered fellows m the world, at your side of the Channel. — Come, now, boys! if any man likes a bet, I'll wager ten guineas that even this won't ruffle his amiable nature. Pass the sherry here, Godfrey ! Is that a clean glass beside you ? " So saying, he took the decanter, and, leisurely filling the glass, stood up as if to present it. but when he attained the erect jiosi- tion, he looked at me fixedly for a second, and then dashed the wine in my face. A roar of laughter burst around me, but I saw, nor heard no more. The moment before, and my head was cool, my senses clear, my faculties unclouded; but now, as if de- rangemenL had fall upon me, I could see nothing but looks of mockery and scorn, and hear nothing save the discordant laugh and the jarring accent of derision. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE INN Fir.E. How I escaped from that room, and by what means I found myself in the street I know not. My first impulse was to tear off my cravat, that I might breathe more freely; still a sense of suffocation oppressed me, and I felt stunned and stupefied. " Come along, Hinton — rouse yourself, my boy. See, your coat is drenched with ram," said a friendly voice behind me ; while grasping me lorcibly hy the arm, the major led me forward. " What have I done ? " cried I, struggling to get free. " Tell me — oh. tell me have I done wrong! Have I committed any dreadful thing? There is an aching pain here — here in my forehead, as though I dare not speak my shame." " Nothing ot the kind, my boy," said Mahon : " you've con- ducted yourself admirably. Matt Keane saw it all, and he says lie never witnessed any thing finer : and he's no bad judge, let me tell you. So there now be satisfied, and take ofii" your wet clothes." There was something imperative in the tone in which he s])oke ; besides, the major was one of those people who someho^v or other always contrive to have their own way m the world, so JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 201 that I yielded at once, feelinf]f, too, that any opposition would only defer my chance of an explanation. While [ was thiia occnijied in my inner room, I could over- hear my friend without, engaged in the preparation of a little 8up[)er, mingling an occasional soliloipiy witli the Hin.mering of the grilled bone that browned upon the fire. The clink of glasses and plates, and all the evidences of punch-making, breaking ever}' mnv and tlien amid such refhetions as these: — " A mighty ugly business — nothing for it but meeting him — poor lad, they'll say we murdered him among us — och, he's far too young for Galway. Hollo, Hinton, are you ready ? iS'ow you look something reasonable : and when we've eaten a l)it, we'll talk this matter over coolly and sensibly: and to make your mind easy, I may tell you at once, I have arranged a meeting lor you with Burke at five to-morrow morning." I grasped his hand convulsively within mine, as a gleam of savage satisfaction shot through me. " Yes, yes," said he, as if replying to my look : " it's all as it ought to be. Even his own friends are indignant at his conduct ; and indeed I may say it's the first time a stranger has met witii such iu our country." " I can believe it well, major," said I; "for unless from Iho individual in question, 1 have met with nothing but kindne.-s and good feeling amongst you : he indeed would seem an excep- tion to his countrymen." " Therefore the sooner you shoot him the better. But I wish I could see Father Tom." '' Adesf, doniine," cried the priest, at the same moment, as he entered the room, throwing his wet great-coat into a corner and giving himself a shake a Newfoundland dog might have envied. " Isn't this pretty work. Bob? " said he, turning to his cousin with a look of indignant reproach: "he is not twenty-four hours in the town, and you've got him into a tight already: and sure it's my own fault that ever brought you together. Ncc fovtunain necgrafiam liahes — no indeed, you have neither luck nor grace. MaxLvaise Hie, as the French say — always in trouble. Arrah, don't be talking to me at all, at all— reach me over the spirits — sorra better I ever saw you ! — disturbing me out of my virtuous dreams at two in the morning. True enough, die niilii socie- tatem tuam ; but little I thought he'd be getting you shot before you left the jjlace." I endeavoured to pacify the good priest as well as I was able ; the major too made every explanation, but what between his being called out of bed, his anger at getting wet, and his cousin's well-known character for afiairs of this nature, it was not before he had swallowed his second tumbler of punch that he would " listen to raysou." '• Well, well, if it is so, God's will be done," said he with a 202 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. sigh. " Un hon coup cZ'qsee, as we used to say formerly, is beautiful treatment for bad blood ; but maybe you're going to fight with pistols — oh, murther, them's dreadful things ! " " I begin to suspect," said the major, slily, " that Father Tom's afraid if you shoot Ulick, he'll never get that fifty pounds he won — Mnc illce lacri/mce — eh, Tom ? " "Ah, the spalpeen," said the priest, with a deep groan, " didn't he do me out of that money already." " How so, father ? " said I, scarce able to repress my laughter at the expression of his face. "I was coming down the main street yesterday evening, with Doctor Plunhett, the bishop, beside me, discoursing a little theology, and looking as jdIous and respectable as may be, when that villain Burke came running out of a shoj), and pulling out his pocket-book, cried — " ' Wait a bit, Father Tom, you know I'm a little in your debt about that race, and as you're a sporting character, it's only fair to book up at once.' '■ ' What is this I hear, Father Loftus ? ' says the bishop. " ' Oh, my lord,' says I, ' he's ajocosus puer — a humbugging bla-guard ; a farceur, your reverence, and that's the way he is always cutting his jokes upon the people.' " ' And so he does not owe you this money? ' said the bishop, looking mighty hard at us both. " 'Not a farthing of it, my lord.' "'That's comfortable any how,' says Burke, putting up his pocket-book ; ' and faith, my lord,' said he with a wink, ' I wish I had a loan of you for an hour or two every settling day, for troth you're a trump,' and with that he went off laughing 'till ye'd have thought he'd split his sides, and I am sure I wish hehad." I don't think Mr. Burke himself could have laughed louder or longer at his scheme than did we in heaving it. The priest at length joined in the mirth, and I could perceive, as the punch made more inroads upon him and the evening wore on, that his holy horror of duelling was gradually melting away before the warmth of his Hibernian propensities. Like a wet sponge passed across the surface of a dark picture, biinging forth from the gloom many a figure and feature indistinct before, and dis- playing touches of light not hitherto appreciable, so whisky seems to exercise some strange power of displaying its votaries in all their breadth of character, divesting them of the adven- titious clothes in which position or profession has invested them : thus a tipsy Irishman stands forth in the exuberance of his nationality Hihernicis Hihernior. Forgetting all his moral declamation on duelling, oblivious of his late indignation against his cousin, he rubbed his hands pleasantly, and related story after story of his own early experiences, some of them not a little amusing. JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 203 The major, however, seemed not fully to enjoy the priest's anecdotical powers, but sipped liis f^lass with a pravu and sentontious air. ''Very true, Tom," said he at length, break- ing silence; "yoii have seen a fair share of these things for a man of your cloth; but whcre's the man living — show him t3 me, I say — that has had my experience, either as principal or second : haven't I had my four men out in the same morning? " "Why I confess," feaid I meekly, "that does Bcem an extravagant allowance." " Clear waste, dowurighf profusion, dih luo',e, 171011 cher, nothing else," observed Father Tom. Meanwhile, the major rolled his eyes fearfully at me, and fidgetted in his chair with impatience to be asked for his story, and as I myself had some curiosity on the subject, I begged him to relate it. " Tom, here, doesn't like a story at supper," said tiie major, pompously ; for, perceiving our attitude of attention, he re- solved on being a little tyrannical before telling it. The priest made immediate submission; and, slily hintiag that his objection only lay against stories he had been hearing for the last thirty years, said he could listen to the narration in question with much pleasure. " You shall have it, then ! " said the major, as he squared himself in his chair, and thus began : — " You have never been in Castle Connel, Hinton ? Well, there is a wide bleak line of country there, that frtretches away to the westward, with nothing but large round-backed mountains, low boggy swamps, with here and there a miserable mud hovel, surrounded by, maybe, half an acre of lumpers, or bad oats ; a few small streams struggle through this on their way to the Shannon, but they are brown and du'ty as the soil they traverse; and the very fish that swim in them are brown and smutty also. " In the very heart of this wild country, I took it into my head to build a house. A strange notion it was, for there was no neighbourhood and no sporting ; but, somehow, I had taken a dislike to mixed society some time before that, and I found it convenient to live somewhat in retirement; — so that, if the partridges were not in abundance about me, neither were the ])rocess-servers ; and the truth was, 1 kept a much sharper look out for the sub-sheriff than I did for the snipe. '■ Of course, as I was over head and ears iu debt, my notion was to build something very considerable and imposing; and, to be sure, I had a fine portico, and a fiight of steps leading up to it; and there were ten windows in front, and a grand balus- trade at the top; and, faith, taking it all in all, the building was so strong, the walls so thick, the windows so narrow, and the stones so black, that my cousin, Darcy Mahon, called it 204 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. Newgate ; and not a bad name either — and the devil another it ever went by : and even that same had its advantao^es ; for when the creditors used to read that at the top of my letters, they'd say — ' Poor devil ! he has enongh on his hands : there's no use troubling him any more.' Well, big as Newgate looked from without, it had not much accommodation when you got inside. There was, 'tis true, a fine hall, all flagged; and, out of it, you entered what ought to have been the dinner-room, thirty-eight feefc by seven-and-twenty, but which was used for herding sheep in winter. On the right hand, there was a cozv little breakfast-room, just about the size of this we are in. At the back of the hall, but concealed by a pair of folding-doors, there was a grand staircase of old Irish oak, that ought to have led up to a great suite of bed-rooms, but it only conducted to one, a little crib I had for myself. The remainder were never plastered nor floored ; and, indeed, in one of them, that was over the big drawing-room, the joists were never laid, which was all the better, for it was there we used to keep our hay and straw. "Now, at the time I mention, the harvest was not brought in, and instead of its being full, as it used to be, it was mighty low; — so that, when you opened the door aliove stairs, instead of finding the hay up beside you, it was about fourteen feet down beneath you. " I can't help boi'ing you with all these details ; first, because they are essential to my story ; and next, because, being a young man, and a foreigner to l)oot, it may lead you to a little better understanding of some of our national customs. Of all the partialities we Irish have, after lush and the ladies, I believe our ruling passion is to build a big house, spend every shilling we have, or that we have not, as the case may be, in getting it half finished, and then live in a corner of it, 'just for grandeur,' as a body may say. It's a droll notion, after all; but show me the county in Ireland that hasn't at least six specimens of what I mention. " Newgate was a beautiful one ; and although the sheep lived in the parlour, and the cows were kept in the blue drawing-room, Darby Whaley slept in the boudoir, and two bull dogs and a buck goat kept house in the library — faith, upon the outside it looked very imposing; and not one that saw it, from the high road to Ennis — and you could see it for twelve miles in every direction — didn't say — 'That ]\Iahon must be a snug fellow : look what a beautiful place he has of it there ! ' Little they knew that it was safer to go up the * Reeks' than my grand staircase, and it was like rope-dancing to pass from one room to the other. " Well, it was nbont four o'clock in the afternoon of a dark louring day in December, that I was treading homewards in no JACK IIIKTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 205 Tery good Iniraour ; for except a brace and a half of snipe, ana a groy plover, I liad met with nothing the whole day. The night w:is lalliug fast; so I began to hurry on as quickly as I could, when I heard a loud shout behind me, and a voice called out — " ' It's Bob Mahon, boys! By the hill of Scariff, we are in hi civ ! ' " 1 turned about, and what should 1 see but a parcel of fellows in red coats — they were the blazers. There was Dan Lambert, Tom Burlce, Harry Eyre, Joe Ll'Mahon, and the rest of them ; fourteen souls in all. They liad come down to draw a cover of Stephen Blake's about ten miles from me ; but, in the strange mountain country, they lost the dogs — they lost their way and their temper ; in truth, to all appearance, tln'y lost everything but their appetites. Their horses were dead beat too, and they looked as miserable a crew as ever you set eyes on. '"Isn't it lucky, Bob, that we found you at home?' said Lambert. '* 'They told us you were away,' says Burke. " ' Some said that you were grown so pious, that you never went out except on Sundays,' added old Harry, with a grin. " ' Begad,' said I, ' as to the luck, I won't su}- much for it; for here's all I can give you for your dinner;' and so I pulled out the four birds and shook them at them ; ' and as to the piety, troth, maybe you'd like to keep a fast with as devoted a son of the clnirch as myself.' '' ' But isn't that Newgate up there ? ' said one. " ' That same.' " ' And you don't mean to say that such a house as that hasn't a good larder and a fine cellar.^ ' " ' You're right,' said I, ' and they're both full at this very moment — the one with seed-potatoes, and the other with White- haven coals.' " ' Have you got any bacon ?' said Mahon. " ' Oh, yes ! ' said I, ' there's bacon.' " ' And eggs ^ ' said another. " 'For the matter of that, you might swim in batter,' " ' Come, come,' said Uan Lambert, ' we're not so badly off after all.' " ' Is there whisky ? ' cried Eyre. " ' Si.Kty-three gallons, that never paid the king sixpence ! ' "As 1 said this, they gave three cheers you'd have heard a mile off. " After about twenty minutes' walking, we got up to the house, and when poor Darby opened the door, I thought he'd taint; for, you see, the red coats made him think it was the army, coming to take me away ; and he was for running off to raise the country, when I caught him by the neck. 2o6 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. "'It's the blazers ! ye old fool,' said I. 'The gentlemen are come to dine here.' " ' Hurroo ! ' said he, clajiping his hands on his knees — ' there must be great distress entirely, down about Nenagh, and them parts, or they'd never think of coming up here for a bit to eat.' " ' Which way lie the stables, Bob ? ' said Burke. " ' Leave all that to Darby,' said I ; for ye see he had only to ■whistle and bring up as many people as he liked — and so he did too ; and as there was room for a cavalry regiment, the horses were soon bedded down and comfortable ; and in ten minutes' time we were all sitting pleasantly round a big fire, waiting for the rashers and eggs. " ' Now if you'd like to wash your hands before dinner, Lam- bert, come along with me.' " ' By all means,' said he. "The others were standing up too; but, T observed, that as the house was large, and the ways of it unknown to them, it was better to wait 'till I'd come back for them. "'This was a real piece of good luck. Bob,' said Dan, as he followed me up stairs : 'capital quarters we've fallen into ; and what a snug bed-room ye have here.' "' Yes,' said I, carelessly; ' it's one of the small rooms — there are eight like this, and five large ones, plainly furnished, as you see; but for the present, you know ' " ' Oh, begad ! I wish lor nothing better. Let me sleep hero — the other fellows may care for your four posters with satin hangings.' " ' Well,' said I, ' if you are really not joking, I may tell you, that the room is one of the warmest in the hou.sc' — and this was telling no lie. " ' Here I'll sleep,' said he, rubbing his hands with satisfac- tion, and giving the bed a most atfectionate look. ' And now let us join the rest.' " When I brought Dan down, I took up Bnrke, and after him M'Mahon, and so on to the last ; but every time I entered the parlour, I found them all bestowing immense praises on my house, and each fellow ready to bet he had got the best, bed- room. '' Dinner soon made its appearance ; for if the cookery was not very perfect, it was at least wonderfully expeditious. There were two men cutting rashers, two more frying them in the pan, and another did nothing but break the eggs, Darby running from the parlour to the kitchen and back again, as hard as he could trot. " Do you know now, that many a time since when I have been giving venison, and Burgundy, and claret, enough to swim a life-boat in, I often thought it was a cruel waste of money ; for JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 207 the fellows weren't lialf as pleasant as they were that evening on biicuii and whisky ! " I've a tlieor}' on that snhjcct, Hinton, I'll tall: to you raoro about anotlier time ; I'll only observe now, that I'm sure we all over-i'eed our company. I've tried both plans; and my honest experience is, that as iar as r'jgards conviviality, fun, and ^'(lod ifUowship, it is a f^roat mistake to jiroviJu too well for your guests. There is something heroic in eating your mutton- chop, or your leg of a turkey, among jolly fellows; there is a kind of reflective flattering about it that tells you you have been invited ibr your drollery, and not for your digestion; and that your jokes, and not your flattery, have been your recom- mendation. Lord bless you ! I've laughed more over rcd- hcrrings and potteen, than I ever expect to do again over turtle and toquay. " ]\Iy guests were, to do thera justice, a good illustration of my theory. A pleasauter and a merrier party never sat down together. We had good songs, good stories, plenty of laughing, and plenty of drink ; until at last poor Darby became so over- powered, by the fumes of the hot water I suppose, that he was obliged to be carried up to bed, and so we were compelled to boil the kettle in the ]>arlour. This, I think, precipitated matters ; for by some mistake, they put ])uneh into it instead of water, and the more you tried to weaken the liquor, it was only the more tipsy you were getting. "About two o'clock, five of the i)arty were under the table, three more were nodding backwards and forwards like insane pendulums, and the rest were mighty noisy, and now and then rather disposed to be quarrelsome. " ' Bob,' said Lambert to me, in a whisper, ' if it's the same thing to you, I'll slip away, and get into bed.' '* ' Of course, if you won't take anything more. Just make yourself at home ; and as you don't know the way here — follow me ! ' " 'I'm afraid,' said ho, ' I'd not find my way alone.' " ' I think,' said I, ' it's very likely. But come along ! ' "I walked up stairs before him; but instead of turning to the left, I went the other way, till I came to the door of the large room, that I have told you already was over the big drawing room. Just as I put my hand on the lock, I contrived to l)low out the candle, as if it was the wind. " ' What a drauglit there is hero,' said I ; ' but just step in, and I'll go for a light' " He did as he was bid ; but instead of finding himself on my beautiful little carpet, down he went fourteen feet into the hay at the bottom. I looked down after hi-m for a minute or two, and then called out — " ' As I am doing the honours of Newgate, the least I could 2aS JACK HLXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. do was to show you the drop. Good night, Dan ! but let me advise you to get a Uttle farther from the door, as there are more coming.' " Well, sir, when they missed Dan and me out of the room, two or three more stood up, and declared for bed also. The lirst I took up was Ffrench, of Green Parle ; for indeed he wasn't a cute fellow at the best of times ; and if it wasn't that the hay was so low, he'd never have guessed it was not a feather- bed till he woke in the morning. Well, down he went. Then came Eyre ! Then Joe Mahon — two-and-tweuty stone— no less ! Lord pity them ! — this was a great shock entirely ! But when I opened the door for Tom Burke, upon my conscience you'd think it was Pandemonium they had down there. They were lighting like devils, and roaring with all their might. "' Good night, Tom,' said I, pushing Burke forward. 'It's the cows you hear underneath.' " ' Cows ! ' said he. ' If they're cows, begad they must have got at that sixty-three gallons of potteen you talked of; for they're all drunk.' " With that, he snatched the candle out of my hand, and looked down into the pit. Never was such a sight seen before or since. Dan was pitching into poor Ffrench, who, thinking he had an enemy before him, was hitting out manfully at an old turf-creel, that rocked and creaked at every blow, as he called out — " 'I'll smash you ! I'll dinge your ribs for you, you infernal scoundrel ! ' " Eyre was struggling in the hay, thinking he was swimming for his life ; and poor Joe Mahon was patting him on the head, and saying, ' Poor fellow ! good dog ! ' for he thought it was Towser, the bull-terrier, that was prowling round the calves of his legs. " 'If they don't get tired, there will not be a man of them alive by morning ! ' said Tom, as he closed the door. ' And now, if you'll allow me to sleep on the carpet, I'll take it as a favour.' " By this time they were all quiet in the parlour; so I lent Tom a couple of blankets and a bolster, and having locked my door, went to bed with an easy mind and a quiet conscience* To be sure, now and then a cry would burst forth, as if they were killing somebody below stairs, but I soon fell asleep and heard no more of them. " By daybreak next morning they made their escape ; and when I was trying to awake at half-past ten, I found Colonel M'Morris, of the Mayo, with a message from the whole four. " ' A bad business this, Captain Mahon,' said he ; ' my frifc..d8 have been shockingly treated.' JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 209 " ' It's miglity lianl,' said I, ' to want to shoot me, because I hadn't fourteen feather-beds in the house.* " 'They will be tlie lauojh of the whole oonntry, sir.' " ' 'i'nith I ' said I, ' if the country is not iu very low spirits, I tliink they will.' " ' There's not a man of them can see ! — their eyes are actually dosed up ! ' " • The Lord be praised ! ' saiarty, with some droll ol)servation on the benetits of early rising, which once more called forth their merriment. Sealing myself on a large moss-covered stone, 1 waited patiently fur llie preliminaries to be settled. As I threw my eye among the group, I perceived that IJurke was not there; but on turning my head, 1 remarked two men waliving arm-in-arm on the opposite side of the hedge. As they paced to and fro, I could see, by the violence of his gesticulations, and the energy of his manner, that one was JJurke. It seemed as though Uis companion was endeavouring to reason with, and dissuade him from sotne course of proceed- ing he appeared bent on following ; but there was a savage earnestness in his nmnner that would not admit of persuasion; and at last, as if wearied and vexed by his friend's inifiortunities, he broke rudely from him, and springing over the fence, called out, " Figott, are you aware it is jiast si.v?" Then pulling out his watch, he added, " I must be at liallinasloc by eleven o'clock." "If you speak another word, sir," said the old colonel, with an air of offended dignit}', " I leave the ground — ]\Iajor Mahou, a word if you please." They walked apart from the rest for a few seconds, and then the colonel, tlirowing his glove upon the grass, proceeded to step otf the ground with a military precision and formality that I am sure, at any other time, would have highly amused me. After a slight demur from the major, to which I could per- ceive the colonel readily yielded, a walking-stick was stuck at either end of the measured distance, while the two seconds, placing themselves beside them, looked at each other with very great satisfaction, and mutually agreed it was a sweet spot. " Would you like to look at these ? " said Pigott, taking up the pistols from where they lay on the grass. "Ah, I know them well," replied the major, laughing; " these were poor Tom Casey's, and a better fellow, and a handier with his ii-on, never snapped a trigger. These are ours, colonel;" presenting, as he spoke, two splendid-looking Mortimers, in all the brilliancy of their maiden freshness. A look of eontem|>t from the colonel, and a most expressive shrug of his shoulders, was his reply. " Begad, I think so," said Mahon, as if appreciating the gesture; "I had rather have that old tool with the cracked stock — not but this is a very sweet instrument and elegantly balanced in the hand." "We arc ready now," said Pigott: "bring up your man, major." As I started up to obey the summons, a slight bustle near 214 JACK HINTON, 7 HE GUARDSMAN. attracted me. Two or three of Burke's friends were endeavour- ing as it were to pacify and subdue him ; but his passion knew no ijouuds, and as he broke from them, he said in a voice per- iectly audible where I stood, " Wou't I, by G ; then I'll tell you, if I don't shoot him " " Sir," said the colonel, turning on him a look of passionate indignation, "if it were not that you were here to answer the appeal of wouuded honour, I'd leave you to your fate this moment; as it is, another such expression as that you've used, and I abandon you on the spot." Doggedly and without speaking, Burke drew his hat far down upon his eyes, and took the place marked out for hmi. " Mr. Hinton," said the colonel, as he touched his hat with most courteous politeness, " will you have the goodness to stand there." Mahon, meanwhile, handed each man h.is pistol, and, -whisper- ing in my ear " aim low," retired. "The word, gentlemen," said the colonel, "'will be, one, two, three. Mr. Hinton, pray observe, I beg of -you, you'll not reserve your fire after I say three." With his eyes fixed upon us, he walked back about ten paces. " Are you ready — are you both ready .? " _ " Yes, yes," said Burke, impatiently. " Yes," said I. "One, two, three." I lifted my pistol at the second word, and as the last dropped from the colonel's lips, one loud report rang through the air, and both pistols went otl' together. A quick, sharp pang shot through my cheek, as though it had been seared by a hot instru- ment. I put up my hand, but the ball had only touched the flesh, and a few drops of blood were all the damage. Not so Burke ; my ball had entered above the hip, and already his trowsers were stained with blood, and notwithstanding his endeavours, he could not stand up straight. " Is he hit, Pigott ? " cried he, in a voice harsh from agony. " Is he hit, I say ? " " Only grazed," said I, tranquilly, as I wiped the stain from my face. " Another pistol quick. Do you hear me, Pigott ? " " We are not the arbiters in this case," replied the colonel coolly. " Major Mahon, is your friend satisfied ? " "Perfectly satisfied on our own account," said the iniijor; " but if the gentleman desires another shot " " I do, I do," screamed Burke, as, writhing with pain, he pressed both hands to his side, from which the blood, now gush- ing in torrentu, formed a pool about his feet. "Be quick there, Pigott, I am getting faint." He staggered forward as he spoke, his face pale and his lii)s parted; then, suddenly clutching his yACK J/INTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 215 pistol liy the Ijivrrcl, lie fixeil his eyes stcatlily on mc, while with II curse he hurled the weapon at my head, uiid fell senseless to the earth. His aim was true, for straij,'ht between the eyes the weapon struck me, and Idled me to tlic ground. Althouf^h stunned for the moment, I could hear the cry of liorror and indignant shame that broke from the bystanders ; but the next instant a dreamy contusion came over me, and I became un- conscious of what was passing around. CHArXER XXX. COUNTRY DOCTOR. Siioui-T) my reader feel any interest concerning that portion of my history which imniediiitely followed the events of my last chapter, I believe I must refer him to Mrs. Doolan, the amiable hoste.«s of the Bonaveen Arms. She could probably satisfy any curious inquiry as to the confusion produced in her cstab- lisiiiiient by the lively sallies of Tijipcrary Joe in one quarter, and the more riotous madness of myself in another. The fact is, good reader, my head was an English one; and although its contents were gradually acclimating themselves to the habits of the country, the external shell had not assumed that proper thickness and due ]iower of resistance which Irish heads would appear to be gifted with. In plain words, the injury had brought on delirium. It was somewhere in the third week after this unlucky morning that I found myself lying in my bed, with a wet cloth upon my temples; while over my whole frame was spread that depressing sense of great debility more ditficult to bear than acute bodily suffering. vMthough unable to speak, I could dis- tinctl}'' hear the conversation about me, and recognise the voices of both Father Tom and the major as they conversed with a third party, wliom I afterwards learned was the Galen of Loughrea. Dr. Mopin, surgeon of the Koscommou militia, had been for forty years the terror of the sick of the suiTounding country ; for, independent of a naturally har.sh and disatrreeable manner, he had a certain slang and sneering way of addressing his patients that was i)erfectly shocking. Amusing himself the while at their expense, by suggesting the various unhappy and miserable consequences, that might follow on their illness, he appeared to take a diabolical j'leasurc in the terror l*e was capable of eliciting. There was something almost amusing in the infernal ingenuity 2i6 yACK HI N TON, THE GUARDSMAN. he^iad acquired in this sjiecies of torture. There was no stage of your illness, no jjhase of your constitution, no character, no condition of your malady, that was not the immediate forerunner of one or more afSicting cahimities. Wore you gettin^^ weaker, it was the way they always died out ; did you gain strength, it was a rally before death; were you despondent, it was best for you to know your state ; were you sanguine, he would rebuke your good spirits, and suggest the propriety of a priest. How- ever, with all these qualitications people put up with him, and as he had a certain kind of rude skill, and never stuck at a bold method, he obtained the best practice of the country, and a wide-spread reputation. " Well," said Father Tom, in a low voice — " well, doctor, what do you think of him this evening? " " What do I think of him ? Just what I thought before^ congestion of the membranes. This is the low stage he is in now: I wouldn't be surprised if he'd get a little better in a few days, and then go off like the rest of them." " Go off! eh '-^ now you don't mean .^ " "Don't I? Maybe not. The ould story, coma, convulsions, and death."' "Damn the fellow," said the major, in a muttered voice, "I feel as if I was in a well. But t sav, doctor, what are we to do?" "Anything 3^ou plase; they say his family is mighty respect- able, and have plenty of money ; I hope so ; for here am I comiug three times a day, and maybe when he dies it will be a mourning ring they'll be sending me instead of my fee. He was a dissipated chap I am sure : look at the circles under his eyes ! " "Ay, ay," said the priest, "but they only came since his illness." " So much the worse,"' added the invincible doctor, " that"s always a symptom that the base of the brain is attacked ? "' " And what happens then ? " said the major. " Oh, he might recover; I knew a man once get over it, and he is alive now, and in Swift's Hospital." " Mad ? " said the priest. "Mad as a March hare," grinned the doctor; "he thinks himself the post-ofRce clock, and chimes all the hours and halt- hours day and night." " The heavens be about us ! " said Father Tom, crossing him- self piously : " I had rather be dead than that." " When did you see Burke ? " inquired the major, wishing to change the conversation. "About an hour ago ; he is going fast ! " "Why 1 thought he was better," said Father Tom; "they told me he eat a bit of chicken, and took a little wiue and water." JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 2 1 7 " Ay, so lie did ; I bid tliem give him whatever he liked, as his time was so sliort: so, after all, maybe it is as well for this yonnt,' chap here not to get over it." " How so? " said the major ; " what do you mean by that ?" " Just that it is as good to die ot a br;iiii fever as be hanged, and it won't fchock the family." " I'd break his neck,' muttered Bob Mahon, " if there was another doctor within forty miles.' Of all his patients, Tipperary Joe was the only one of whom he spoke witliunt disparagement: whether iluit tin; poor frllow's iuditi'erence to his powers of terrorizing had awed or coiieihated him, I know not, but he expressed himself favourably regarding his case, and his prospects of recovery. "Them chaps always recover," drawled out the doctor in a dolorous cadence. " Is it true," said the mnjor, with a malicious grin — '' is it true that he changed all the splints and bandages to the sound leg, and that you didn't discover the mistake for a week afterwards? — Mary Doolan told me." " Mrs. Doolan," said the doctor, " ought to be thinking of her own misfortunes, and with an acute iuHammation of the peri- eanliuni, she might be making her sowL" " She ill? — that fine, fat, comfortable-looking woman ! " " Ay, just so, they're always fat, and have a sleepy look about the eyes just like 3'ourself. Do you ever bleed at the nose ? " "Never without a blow on it. Come, come, 1 know ^^ou well, doctor; you shall not terrify me." " You're right not to fret, for it will take you off suddenly, with a giddiness in your head, and a rolling in your eyes, and a choking feel about your throat- " " Stop, and be d d to you," said the major, as he cleared his voice a couple of times, and loosed the tie of his cravat. '' This room is ojipressively hot." " I protest to God," said Father Tom, "my heart is in my mouth, and there isn't a bone in my body that's not aching." " i don't wonder,'' chimed in the doctor; "you are another of them, and you are a surprising man to go on so long. Sure, it is two years ago I warned your niece that when she saw you fall down, she must open a vein in your neck, if it was only with a carving-knife." "The saints in heaven forbid!" said the priest, cutting the sign of the cross in the air: "it's maybe the jugular she'd cut." " No," drawled out the doctor, " she needn't go so deep ; and if her hand doesn't shake, there won't be much danger. (Jood evening to you both." So saying, with his knees bent, and his hands crossed un^Vr the skirts of his coat, he sneaked out vi llie room; wliile the 2iS JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. others, overcome with fear, shame, and dismay, sat silently, looking misery itself, at each side of the table. " That fellow would kill a regiment,'" said the major at length. " C^ome, Tom, let's have a little punch, I've a kind of a tremb- ling over me." "Not a drop of anything stronger than water will cross my jips this blessed night. Do you know, Bob, I think this place doesn't agree with me ; I wish I was back in jMurranakilty : the mountain air, and regular habits of life, that's the thing for me." "We are none of us abstemious enough,'' said the major; " and then we bachelors — to be sure you have your niece." '' Whisht ! " said the priest; " how do you know who is listen- ing? I vow to God I am quite alarmed at his telling that to Mary ; some night or. other, if I take a little too much, she'll maybe try her anatomy upon me." This unhappy reflection seemed to weigh upon the good priest's mind, and set him a mumbling certain Latin offices between his teeth for a quarter of an hour. " I wish," said the major, " Hinton was able to read his letters, for here is a whole bundle of them — some from England, some from the Castle, and some marked ' on his majesty's service.' " " I'll wait another week anyhow for him," said the piriest. "To go back to Dublin in the state he is now would be the ruin of him, after the shake he has got : the dissipation, the dining out, and all the devilment, would destroy him entirely ; but a few weeks' peace and quietness up at Murraiiakilty will make him as sound as a bell." " You are right, Tom, you are right," said the major : " the poor fellow mustn't be lost for the want of a little care; and now that Dillon has gone, there is no one here to look after him. Let us go down and see if the post is in : I think a walk would do us good." Assenting to this proposition, the piicst bent over me mourn- fully for a moment, shook his head, and, having muttered a blessing, walked out of the room with the major, leaving me in silence to think over all I had overheard. Whether it was that youth suggested the hope, or that I more quickly imbibed an appreciation of the doctor's character from being the looker-on at the game, I am not exactly sure; but certainly I felt little depressed by his gloomy foreliodings respecting me, and greatly lightened at my heart by the good news of poor Tip})erary Joe. Of all the circumstances which attended my illnes.^, the one that most impressed me was the warm, aifectionate solicitude of my two friends — the priest and his cousin. Thcic was some- thing of kindness and good feeling in their care of me, that 4. JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 2ig spoke ratlicr of a long friendship than of tho weaker tics ol chaiico and passintr acquaintance. Af?ain I tlioupht of home, and while 1 asked rnyseif if the events which beset my path in Ireland could possibly have happened to me there, I could not but acknowledfje that if they had so. I could scarcely have hoped to have siiddenlv conjured up such faithful and benevolen friends, with no other claim, nor other recommendation, save that of beinp a stranf,'or. The casual r>bservatioQ concerning my letters had, by stimu- lating my curiosity, awakened my dormant energy; and, by a great ett'ort, I stretched out my hand to the little bell beside my bed, and rang it. The summons was answered by the bare-legged girl who acted as waiter in the inn. When she had sufficiently recovered from her astonishment to comprehend my request, I persuaded her to place a candle beside me, and having given mo the ))acket of letters that lay on the chimney- piece, I desired her on no account to admit any one, but say that I had fallen into a sound sleep, and should not be dis- turbed. CHAPTER XXXI. THE LETTER-BAG. The package of letters was a large one, of all sizes; from all quarters they came: some from home; some from my brother officers of the Guards; some from the Castle; and even one from O'Grady. The first I opened was a short note from Horton, the private secretary to tlie viceroy : this informed me that IVIajor JMahoii had written a statement to the duke of all the circumstances attending my duel; and that his grace had not onl}' exj)ressed himself highly satisfied with my conduct, but had ordered a very polite reply to be addressed to the major, thanking him i'or his great kindness, and saying with wliat pleasure he tbund that a member of his staff had fallen into such good hands. " His grace desires me to add," continued the writer, "thnt you need only consult your own health and convenience with respect to your return to duty; and, in fact, your leave of •iibsence is perfectly discretionar}'." jNly mind relieved of a weighty load by the contents of this 220 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. letter, I recovered my strength already so far that I sat _np in bed to peruse the others. My next was from my father ; it ran thus : — ' Deak Jack — " Your friend Major Mahon, to whom I write by this post, will deliver this letter to you when he deems fit. He has been most good-natured in conveying to me a narrative of your late doings; and I cannot express how grateful we all are to him for the truly friendly part he has taken towards you. After the strictest scrutiny, for I confess to you I feared lest the major's might be too partial an account, I rejoice to say that your con- duct meets with my entire approbation. An older and a wiser head might, it is possible, have avoided some of the difficulties you have met with ; but this I will add, that once in trouble, no one could have shown better temper nor a more befitting spirit than you did. While I say this, my dear Jack, understand me clearly, that I speak of you as a young inexperienced man, thrown, at his very outset of life, not only among strangers, but in a country where, as I remarked to you at first, everything was different from those in your own. Yon have now shown yourself equal to any circumstances in which you may be })laced; I therefore not only expect that you will meet with fewer embarrassments in future, Imt that, should they arise, I shall have the satisfaction of finding your character and your hal)its will be as much your safeguard against insult as your readiness to resent any will be sure and certain. " I have seen the duke several times, and he expresses him- self ;is much pleased with you. From what he mentions, I can collect that you are well satisfied with Ireland, and therefore I do not wish to remove you from it. At the same time, bear in mind, that by active service alone can you ever attain to, or merit, rank in the army ; and that hitherto you have only been a soldier by name." After some futher words of advice respecting the future, and some ie'N details of family matters, he concluded by entrusting to my mother the mention of what she herself professed to think lay more in her peculiar province. As usual, her letter opened with some meteorological observa- tions upon the climate of England for the preceding six weeks; then followed a journal of lier own health, whose increasing delicacy, and the imperative necessity of being near Doctor Y , rendered a journey to Ireland too dangerous to think of. "Yes, my dearest boy,' wrote she, " nothing but this would keep me from you a moment; however, I am much relieved at learning that you are now rapidly recovering, and hope soon to hear of your return to Dublin. It is a very dreadful thing to think of, but perhaps, upon the whole, it is better that you did yACt: in N TON, THE GUARDS MAX. iz\ kill this Mr. Burke. De Grammont tells me tliat a rnanvui^G tt'te like that must be shot sooner or later. It makes me nervous to dwell on this oilions topic, so that I shall pass on to something else. The horrid little man that brought your letters, and who calls himself a servant of Captain O'Grady, insisted on soiiiig me yesterday; I never was more shocked in my life. From what he says, I gather that he may be looked on as rather a lavourable specimen of the natives: they must indeed be a very frightful jieoplo; and although he assured me he would do me no injury, 1 made Thomas stay in the njom the entire time, and told Chub'us to give the alarm to the police if he heard the slightest noise: the creature, however, did nothing, and I have quite recovered from my fear already. "What a picture, my dear boy, did he })rescnt to me of your coiidiict and haliits. Your intimacy with that odious iamily I mentioned in my last seems the root of all your misfortunes. Why will such people thrust themselves forward? What do they mean by inviting you to their frit;htful parties? Have tliey not their own l)ecnliar horrors? not bnt I must confess that they are more excusable than you; and I cannot conceive how you could so soon have forgotten the lessons instilled into you from your earliest years. As your poor dear grandfather, the aduiiral, used to say, a vulgar acquaintance is a shifting sand; you can never tell where you wont meet it; always at the most in- opportune moment; and then, if you remark, your underl)red pe(<|)le are never content with a quiet recognition, but they niust always indulge in a destcstabh; cordiality there is n/j escaping from. Oh, John, John, when at ten years of age you made the banker's son at Nortliampton hold your stirrup as you mounted your pony. I never thought I should have this reproach to make you. The little tiend who calls lumself Corny something also mentions your continued familiarity with the young woman 1 spoke of before ; what her intentions are is perfectly clear, and should she accomplish her object, your fiositiou in society and future fortune might possibly procure her large damages; but pause, my dear boy, before you go any further. I do not speak of the moral features of the case, lor you are of an age to judge of them yourself; but think, I beseech you, of the diihculties it will throw around your jiath in life, and the obstacles it will oppose to your success. There is poor Lord }{enry Eflingham, and since that foolLsh business with the clergyman's wife or daughter, where somebody went mad, and some one else drowned or shot himself, they have never given him any ajipointment whatever. The world is a frightful and unforgiving thing, as poor Lord Henry knows, therefore bev.-are ! "The more I think of it, the more strongly do I feel the force of my tirst impressions respecting Ireland; and were it not that we so constantly hear of battles aud bloodshed iu tho K 222 -yACR RTNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. Peninsula, I sliould even i^refer your being there. There would seem to Le an unhappy destiny over everything belonging to me: my poor dear father, the admiral, had a lite of hardship, almost unrewarded; for eleven years he commanded a guard- ship in the Nore ; many a night have I seen him when I was a little girl, come home dripping with wet, and perfectly insensible, from the stimulants he was obliged to resort to, and be carried in that state to his bed; and after all this he didn't get his blue ribbon till he was near sixty. " De Vere_ is constantly with us, and is, I remark, attentive to your cousin Julia : this is not of so much consequence, as I hear that her Chancery suit is taking an unhappy turn ; should it be otherwise, your interests will, of course, be looked to. De Vere is most amusing, and has a great deal of wit; but for him and the count we should be quite dreary, as the season is over, and we can't leave town for at least three weeks." The epistle concluded with a genei-al summing up of its contents, and ar atiectionate entreaty to bear in mind her caution regarding tht Eooneys. " Once more, my dear boy, remember that vulgar people are a part of our trials in this life : as that delightful man, the Dean of St. George's, says, they are snares for our feet; and their subservient admiration of us is a dangerous and a subtle temptation. Eead this letter again, and believe me, my dearest John, ''Your affectionate and unhappy mother, " Charlotte Hixtox." I shall not perform so undutiful a task as to play the critic on my excellent mother's letter : there were, it is true, many new views in life presented to me by its perusal, and I should feel sadly puzzled were I to say tit which I was more amused or shocked, at the strictness of her manners or the laxity of her morals ; but I confess, that the part which most outraged me of all was the eulogy on Lord Dudley de Vere's conversa- tional gifts ; but a few short months before, and it is possible I should not only have credited, but concurred in the opinion; brief, however, as had been the interval, it had shown me much of life ; it had brought me into acquaintance, and even intimacy, with some of the brightest spirits of the day ; it had taught me to discriminate between the unmeaning jargon of conventional gossip, and the charm of a society where force of reasoning, warmth of eloquence, and brilliancy of wit contested lor the ]ialra. It had made me feel that the intellectual gifts reserved in other countries fur the personal advancement of their owner, by their public and ostentations display, can be made the orna- ment and the delight of the convivial board, the elegant accom- paniment to the hours of happy intercourse, and the strongest bond of social union. JACK lUNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. =23 •So gnidnally had this ohatigo of opinion cropt over me I JiJ not recognise iu niysolt' tlie conversion, and, indeed, had it not been for my mother's observations on Lord Dudley, 1 could not have credited how far my convictions had gone round. 1 could now understand the measurement by which Irishmen were estimated in tlie London world. I could see that if such a character as De Vere had u reputation for ability, how totally imjiossible it was for those who appreciated him to prize the great and varied gifts of such men as Grattau and Curran, and many more. Lost in such thoughts, I forgot for some moments that O'Grady's letter lay open before me. It was dated Chatliam, and written the night before he sailed. The first few lines showed mc that he knew nothing of my duel, having only received my own letter with an account of the steeple-chase. He wrote in high spirits. The commander-in-chief had been most kind to him. appointing him to a vacant majority, not, as he antici- pated, in the -list, but in the 9th Light Dragoons. "I am anxiously looking out for Corny," said he, "and a great letter-bag from Ireland, the only bit of news from which, except your own, is, that the liooneys have gone into deep mourning, themselves and their whole house. Various rumours are alloat as to whether any money speculations of Paul's may have suggested the propriety of retrenchment, or whether there may not have been a death in the royal family of O'Toole. Look to this for me, Hinton; for even in Canada I shall pre- serve the memory of that capital house, its excellent cuisine, its charming hostess. Cultivate them, my dear Jack, for your sake and for mine. One Ilembruudt is as good as a gallery : so sit down before them and make a study of the family." The letter concluded as it began, by hearty thanks for the service I had rendered him, begging me to accei)t of ^lodirideroo as a souvenir of his friendship, and in a postscript, to write which the letter had evidently been re-opened, was a warning to me against any chance collision with Ulick Burke. " Not, my dear boy, because he is a dead shot, although that same is something, but that a quarrel with him could scarcely be reputable in its commencement, and must be bad whatever the result." After some further cautioning on this matter, the justice of which was tolerably evident from my own experience, O'Grady concluded with a hurried postscript — " Corny has not yet arrived, and wo have received our orders for embarkation within twenty-four hours. I begin half to despair of his being here in time. Should this be the case, will you, my dear Ilinton, h^ok after the old villam for me, at least until 1 write to you again on the subject?" While I was 3'ct pondering on these last few lines, I perceived 224 'JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. that a card had fallen from my father's letter. I took it up, and what was my astonishment to find that it contained a correct likeness of Corny Delany, drawn with a pen, underneath which was written, in my cousin Julia's hand, the following few lines : — " The dear old thing has waited three days, and I think I have at length caught something like him. Dear Jack, if the master be only equal to the man, we shall never forgive you for not lettiHCT lis see him. — Yours, Julia." This, of course, explained the secret of Corny's delay. My cousin, with her habitual wilfulness, preferring the indulgence of a caprice to anything resembling a duty; and I now had little doubt upon my mind that O'Gaady's fears were well founded, and that he had been obliged to sail without his follower. The exertion it cost me to read my letters, and the excitement produced by their perusal, fatigued and exhausted me, and as 1 sank back upon my pillow, I closed my eyes and fell sound asleep, not to wake until late on the following day ; but strange enough, when I did so, it was with a head clear and faculties col- lected — my mind refreshed by rest unbroken by a single dream : and so restored did I feel that, save in the debility from long confinement to bed, I was unconscious of any sense of malady. From this hour my recovery dated. Advancing every day with rajaid steps, my strength increased ; and before a week elapsed, I so far regained my lost health that I could move about my chamber, and even lay plans for my departure. CHAPTER XXXII. BOB MAIION AND THE WIDOW. It was about eight or ten days after the events I have mentioned, when Father Tom Loftus, whose care and attention to me had been unceasing throughout, came in to inform me that all the preparations for our journey were properly made, and that by the following morning at sunrise we should be on the road. I confess that I looked forward to my departure with anxiet}^ The dreai-y monotony of the day, spent in either perambulating my little room, or in a short walk up and down before the inn- door, had done more to depress and dispirit me than even the previous illness. The good priest, it is true, came often JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 225 to eec me, but then there were hours spent quite alone, without the solace ot a book or the sight of even a news- ])ii[)er. I knew the face of every man, woman, and ehilJ in the village. I cuuld tell their hauu'.s, their habits, and their occupations — even the very hours of the tedious day were marked in my mind by various little incidents, that seemed to recur with unbroken precision; and if, when the pale apothecary disajjpearcd from over the half-door of his shop, I knew that he was engaged at his one-o'clock dinner, so the clink of the old ladies' pattens, as they passed to an evening tea, told me that the day was waning, when the town-clock should strike seven. Tliere was nothing to break the monotonous jog-trot of daily life save the appearance of a few raw subalterns, who, from some cause or other, less noticed than otliers of the regiment by the neighbouring gentry, strolled about the town, quizzing and laughing at the humble towns-folk, and endeavouring, by looks of most questionable gallantry, to impress the female population with a sense of their merit.s. After all, mankind is pvetty much the same in every country, and every age. fcjonie men ambitioning the credit of virtues the very garb of which they know not; others, and a large class too, seeking for the reputation of vices the world palliates with the appellation of fashionable. We laugh at the old courtier of Louis XlV.'s time, who. in the flatterer of the age he lived in, preferred being called a " scderat,'^ an hi.fdiite scclemf, that, by the excesses he professed,_ the vicious habits of the sovereign might seem less striking; and yet we see the very same thing under our own eyes every day we live. — But to return. There was nothing to delay me longer at Lougbrea. _ Poor Joe was so nearly recovered that in a few days more it wa.s hoped he might leave his bed. He was in kind hands, how- ever, and I iiad taken every precaution that he should want for nothing in my absence. I listened, then, with j)leasure to FatherTom's detail of all his preparations; and, although I knew not whither we were going, nor ho.v long the journey was likely to prove, yet I looked forward to it with jileasure, and only longed for the hour of setting out. As the evening drew near, I looked anxiously out for the good father's coming. He had promised to come in early with Major ]\[ahon, whom I had not seen for the two days previous : the major being deeply engagetl in consultations with his lawyer regarding an approaching trial at the assizes. Although I coukrgather from his manner, as well as from the ])riest's, that something of moment inqjcnded, yet as neither of them more than alluded to the circumstance, I knew nothing: of what was going f(^rward. 226 JACK HIATON, THE GUARDSMAN. It was eiglit o'clock when Father Tom made his appearance. He came alone : and by his flurried look and excited manner, I saw there was something wrong. " What is it, father? " said I. " Where is the major r '' " Och, confound him ; they have taken him at last," said he, wiping his forehead with agitation. ' Taken him ? " said I. " Why. was he hiding ? " *" Hiding — to be sure he was hiding, and masquerading, and disguising himself; but faith, those Clare fello\ys, there's no coming up to them ; they have such practice in their own county, they would take the devil himself, if there was a writ out against him. And, to be sure, it was a clever trick they played old Bob." Here the good priest took such a fit of laughing, that he was obliged to wipe his eyes. " May I never," said he, "if it wasn't a good turu they played him, after what he did himself." "Come, father, let's hear it." "This was the way of it. Maybe you never remarked— of course you didn't, for you were only up there a couple of times —that opposite Bob's lodgings there was a mighty sweet- looking crayture, a widow-woman; she was dressed in very discreet black, and had a sorrowful look about her, that somehow or other, I think, made her even more interesting. " ' I'd like to know that widow,' said Bob ; ' for now that the fellows have a warrant against me, I could_ spend my days so pleasantly over there, comforting and consoling her.' _ " ' Whisht,' said I, ' don't you see that she is in grief.' " ' Not so much in grief,' said he, ' but she lets down two beauti- ful braids of her brown hair under her widow's cap ; and when- ever you see that. Father Tom, take my word for it, thegame's not up.' " I believe there was some reason in what he said, for the last time I went up to see him, he had the window open, and he was playing planxty Kelly with all his might on an old fiddle ; and the widow would come now and then to the window, to draw the little muslin curtain, or she would open it to give a half- penny to the beggars, or she would hold out her hand to see if it was raining, and a beautiful lily-white hand it was ; but all the time, you see, it was only exchanging looks they were. Bob was a little ashamed when he saw me in the room, but he soon recovered. " ' A very charming woman that Mrs. Moriarty is,' said he, closing the window. ' It's a cruel pity that licr fortune is all in the Grand Canal— I mean Canal debentures. But indeed it comes pretty nuich to the same thing.' "And so he went on raving about the widow; for by this time he knew all about it. Her maiden-name was Cassidy, JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 227 and her father a distiller; ami, in fact, Bob was quite de- lighted with his beiuitiful neighbour. At last I bid him gcod- bye, ])roiiiisiiig to call for hiiu at eight o't-lock to come over here to you; lor you see there was a backdoor to the house, that l(?d into a small alley, by which Mahon used to make his escape in the evening. He was sitting, it seems, at liia window, looking out for the widow, who for some cause or other hadn't made her appearance the entire of the day. There he sat, with his hand on his heart, and a heavenly smile upon him for a good hour, sipping a little wliisky and water between times, to keep up his courage. " ' She must be out,' said Bob to himself. ' She's gone to pass the day somewhere. I hope she doesn't know any of those impudent vagabonds up at the barracks. Maybe, after all, it's sick she is.' '* While he was ruminating tins way, who should he sec turn the corner but the widow herself. There she was, coming along, in deep weeds, with her maid after her, a fine slashing-looking figure, rather taller than her though, and lustier every way; but it was the first time he saw her in the streets. As she got near to her door. Bob stood up to make a polite bow. Just as he did so, the widow slipped her foot, and fell down on the flags with a loud scream. The maid ran up, en- deavouring to assist her, but she couldn't stir; and as she placed her hand on her leg, Bob perceived at once she had sprained her ankle. AVithout waiting for his hat, he sprung down stairs, and rushed across the street. " ' Mrs. Moriarty, my angel ! ' said Bob, putting his arm round her waist. ' Won't you permit me to assist you ? ' '• She clas]>ed his hand with fervent gratitude, while the maid, putting her hand into her reticule, seemed fumbling for a handkerchief. " ' 1 am a stranger to you, ma'am,' said Bob ; ' but if Major Mahon, of the Koscommon ' "'The very man we want,' said the maid, pulling a writ out of the reticule: lor a devil a thing else they were but two bailifis from Ennis. " * The very man we want,' said the bailiffs. " ' I am caught ! ' said Bob. '"The devil a doubt of it. " At the same moment the window opened overhead, and the beautiful widow looked out to see what was the matter. "'Good evening to you, ma'am,' says Bob; 'and I'd like to pay my respects, if I wasn't particularly engaged to these ladies here.' And with that he gave an arm to each of them, and led them down the street, as if it was his mother and sister." " The poor major," said I. " And where is he now ? " •' On his way to Ennis in a post-chaise, for it seems the ladies 220 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. had a liundred pounds for their capture. Ah ! poor Bob ! But there is no use fretting, besides it would be sympathy thrown away, for he'll give them the siip before long. And now, cap- tain, are you ready for the road? I have got a peremptory letter from the bishop, and must be back in Murranakilty as jon as I can." " My dear father, I am at your disposal. I believe we can do no more for poor Joe; and as to Mr. Burke— and, by-the-bve, how is he ? " " Getting better, they say. But, I believe, you've spoiled a very lucrative source of his income. He was the best jumper in the west of Ii'eland ; and they tell me, you've lamed him for life. He is down at Milltown, or Kilkee, or somewhere on the coast; but sure we'll have time enough to talk of these things as we go along. I'll be with you by seven o'clock. We must start earl}^ and get to Portumna before night." Having promised implicit obedience to the worthy priest's directions, be they what they might, I pledged myself to make up my baggage in the smallest possible space, and have break- fast ready for him before starting. After a few other obser- vations and some suggestions as to the kind of equipment he deemed suitable to the road, he took his leave, and I sat down alone to a little quiet reckoning with myself as to the past, the present, and the future. From my short experience of Ireland, the only thing approaching to an abstract principle I could attain to was the utter vanity, the perfect impossibility of any man's determin- ing on a given line of action, or the steady pursuit of any one enterprise. No ; the inevitable course of fate seems to have chosen this happy island to exhibit its phenomena — whether your days be passed in love or war, or your evenings in drink or devotion, not yours be the glory : for there would seem to be a kind of headlong influence at work, impelling you ever forward. Acquaintances grow up, ripen, and even bear fruit, before, in other lands, their roots would have caught the earth: by them your tastes ai-e regulated, your habits controlled, your actions fashioned. You may not, it is true, lisp in the i)atuis of blarney. You may weed your phraseology of its tropes and figures, but trust me, that if you live in Ireland — if you like the people, ;ind who does not ?~ and if you are liked by them, and who would not be ? — then, do I say, you will find yourself, without knowing or perceiving it, going the pace with the natives, — courtship, fun, frolic, and devilment, filling up every hour of your day, and no inconsiderable portion of your night also. One grand feature of the country seemed to me, that no matter what particular extravagance you were addicted to — uo matter what strange or absurd passion to do, or seem something remarkable— you were certain of always finding JACK I/LXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 229 Fomc 0110 to sympathise with, if uot actiJally to follow you. Ndthingf is too strange, nothing too ridiculous, nothing too convivial, nothing too daring for I'adJy. With one intuitive bound he springs into your conlidencu and enters into your plans. Only be open with him, conceal nothing, and he'H yours, heart and hand ; ready to endorse your bill, to carry off a young lady, or cany a message — to burn a house for a joke, or jeopardy his neck for mere pastime — to go to the world's end to serve you, and, oi\ his return, shoot you after- wards out of downright good-nature. As for myself, I might have lived in England to the age of Methuselah, and yet never have seen as much of life as in the few months spent iu Ireland. Society in other lands seems a kind of free- masonry, where, for lack of every real or important secret, men substitute signs and pass-words, as if to throw tlio charm of m3\stery where, after all, nothing lies concealed ; but in Ireland, where national character rnns in a deep or hiddru channel, with cross currents and back water ever turning and winding — where all the incongruous and discordant elements of what is best and worst seem blended togetiier— there, social intercourse is free, cordial, warm, and benevolent. Men come together disposed to like each other; and what an Irii-hman is disposed to, he usually }-n.s a way of eO'ecting. i\ly brief carci r had not been without its troubles; but who would not hav«! incurred such, or as many more, to have evoked such kind in- terest and such warm friendshi|^? From Phil (/Grady, my first, to Father Tom, my last friend, I had met with nothing but almost brotherly atlection ; and yet, I could not help acknowledging to myself that, but six short months before, I would have recoiled from the friendship of tlie one and the acquaintance of the otlier, as something to lower and degrade me. Not only would the outward observances of their manner have deterred me, but, in their very warm and earnest proH'er-; of good- nature, I would have seen cause for suspecting and avoiding them. Thank heaven, I now knew better, and felt deeper. How this revolution became effected in me I am not myself aware, perhaps — I only say perhaps — Miss Bellow hail a share in effecting it. Sucli were some of my thoughts as I betook myself to bed, and soon after to sleep. 230 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. CHAPTER XXXIII. THE priest's gig. I AM by no means certain that the prejudices of rny English education were sufficiently overcome to prevent my feeling a kind of tingling of shame as I took m}' place beside Father Tom Loftus in his gig. Early as it was, there were still some people about; and I cast a hurried glance around, to see if our equipage was not as much a matier of amusement to them as of affliction to me. When Father Tom first spoke of his " dennet," I innocently pictured to myself something resembling the indigenous pro- ductions of Loughrea. " A little heavy or so," thought I ; " strong for country roads — mayhap somewhat clumsy in the springs, and not over-refined about the shafts." Heaven help my Ignorance ! I never fancied a vehicle whose component parts were two stout poles, surmounting a pair of low wheels, high above which was suspended, on two lofty springs, the body of an ancient buggy; the lining of a bright scai'let, a little faded and dimmed by time, bordered by a lace of the most gaudy pattern; a flaming coat of arms, with splendid blazonry and magnificent quarterings, ornamented each panel of this strange-looking tub, into which, for default of steps, you mounted by a ladder. " Eh, father," said I, "what have we here ? this is surely not the " " Ay, captain," said the good priest, as a smile of proud satis- faction curled his lip, " that's ' the convaniency ; ' and a pleasanter and an easier never did man sit in — a little heavy, to be sure ; but then one can always walk up the hills, and if they're very stiff ones entirely, why it's only throwing out the ballast." " The ballast ! — what do you mean ? " " Just them," said he, pointing with his whip to some three or four huge pieces of lime-stone rock that lay in the bottom of the gig ; " there's seven — maybe eight stone weight ; every pound of it." *' And for heaven's sake," said I, " why do you carry that mass of rubbish along with you ? " " I'll just tell you then. The road has holes in it you could bury your father in, and when the convaniency gets into one of them, she has a way of springing up into the air, that, if you're not watching, is sure to pitch you out — maybe into the bog at the side — maybe on the beast's back : I was once actually JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 231 thrown into a public-hon.se window, where there was a great deal of fun ^'oing on, and the bishop came by before I extricated myself. I assure you I had hard work to explain it to liis satis- faction." There was a lurking drollery in his eye, as he said these last few words, that left me to the full as much [iuzzled about the accident as his worthy diocesan. "But look at the springs," he continued, '"there's metal for you! ami do yon mind the shape of the body? it's for all the world like the ancient curricalus. And look at Bathershin himself — the onld varmint ! sure he's classical too — hasn't he a Roman nose? and uin't I a Roman myself? So get up, captain — asccndite ad currum — get into the shay. And now for the dor.h an dhurras — the stirrup-cup, Mrs. Doolaa : that's the darlin'. Ah, there's nothing like it! — " ' Sit milii lagena, Ad summum plena.' Here captain, take a pull— beautiful milk punch ! " Draining the goblet to the bottom, which I confess was no unpleasant task, I pledged my kind hostess, who, curtseying deeply, retilled the vessel for Father Tom. "That's it, Mary; froth it up, acushla. Hand it here, my darling, — my blessing on ye." As he spoke, the worthy father deposited the reins at his feet, and lifted the cup with both hands to his mouth ; when suddenly the little window over the inn-door was burst open, and a loud tally-ho was shouted out, in accents the wildest I ever listened to. I had barely time to catch the merry features of poor Tipperary Joe, when the priest's horse, more accustomed to the hunting field than the high-road, caught up the welcome sound, gave a wild toss of his head, cocked up his tail, and, with a hearty bang of both hind legs against the front of the chariot, set otf down the street as if the devil were after him. Feeling himself at libert}-, as well as favoured by the ground, which was all down hill, the pace was really terrific. It was some time before I cfiuld gather up the reins, as Father Tom, jug and all, had been thrown at the first shock on his knees to the bottom of the convaniency, where, half-suffocated by fright and the milk punch that went wrong with him, he bellowed and coughed with all his might. " llowld him tight— ugh, ugh, ugh ! not too hard— don't chuck him for the love of— ugh, ugh, ugh ! the reins is rotten, and the traces no better — ugh, ugh, ugh! Bad luck to the villains, why didn't they catch his head?— and the slultuti execrabills ! — the damned fool ! how he yelled ! " Almost fainting with laughter, I pulled my best at the old horse, not, howcvi r, nf^flectinij the priest's caution about tho 232 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. frailty of the harness. This, however, was not the only difficulty I had to contend with, for the curriculus participating in the galloping action of the horse, swung upwards and downwards, backwards and forwards, and from one side to the other — all at once too — in a manner so perfectly addling, that it was not be- fore we reached the first turnpike that I succeeded in arresting our progress. Here a short halt was necessary for the priest to recover himself, and e.xamiue whether either his bones or any jiortion of the harness had given way : both had happily been found proof against mishaps, and drew from the reverend father strong encomiums upon their merits; and after a brief delay we resumed our road, but at a much more orderly and becoming pace than before. Once more en route, I bethought me it was high time to in- quire about the direction we were about to travel, and the probable length of our journey; for I confess I was sadly Ignorant as to the geography of the land we were travelling, and the only point I attempted to keep in view was the number of miles we were distant from the capital. The priest's reply was, however, anything but instructive to me, consisting merely of a long catalogue of names, in which the syllables "kill," "whack." "nock," "shock," and "bally," jostled and elbowed each other in the rudest fashion imaginable; — the only in- telligible portion of his description being, that a blue mountain scarcely perceptible in the horizon lay about half-way between us and Murranakilty. My attention was not, however, permitted to dwell on these matters; for my companion had already begun a narrative of the events which had occurred during my illness. The Dillons, I found, had left for Dublin, soon after my mishap. Louisa Bellew returned to her father: and Mr. Burke, whose wound had turned out a more serious aftair than was at first supposed, was still confined to his bed, and a lameness for life anticipated as the inevitable result of the injury. " Sir Simon, for once in his life," said the priest, " has taken a correct view of his nephew's character ; and has, now that all danger to life is past, written him a severe letter, reflecting on his CDudnct. Poor Sir Simon! his life has been one tissne of trial and disappointment throughout. Every buttress that supported his venerable house giving way, one by one, the ruin seems to threaten total downfall, ere the old man exchanges the home of his fathers for his last narrow rest beside them in the churchyard. Betrayed on every hand, wronged, and ruined, he seems merely to linger on in life ; like the stern-timbers of some mighty wreck, that marks the spot where once the goodly vessel i^erished, and are now the beacon of the quicksand to others. You know the sad story, of course, that I chiefly alluded to " yACK lll.\r0.\\ THE GUARDSMAN. 233 "No. I am cumplctcly ignorant of the family history," said I. The priest blushod deeply, as liis dark eyebrows met in heavy frown : then turning hastily towards me, he said, in a voice whose thick, low utterance bespoke his agitation, — "Do not ask me, I beseech you, to speak furtlicr of what — had I been more collected — 1 had never alluded to! An un- happy duel, the consequence of a still more unhappy event, has blasted every hope in life for my poor friend. 1 thought — that is, I feared — lest the story might have reached you. As I tiiid this is not so, you will spare my recurring to that, tlie bare recollection of wliich comes like a dark cloud over the happiest day of my existence. Promise me this, or 1 sliall not ibrgivo myself." J readily gave the pledge he required; and we pursued our road : not, however, as before, but each sunk in his own reflec- tions — silent, reserved, and thoughtful. " In about four days," said Father Tom, at last breaking the silence, "perhaps five, we'll bo drawing near INfurranakilty." He then proceeded, at more length, to inform me of tlie various counties through wliich we were to pass, detailing with great accuracy the several seats we should see, the remarkable places, the ruined churches, the old castles, and even the very fox covers tluit lay on our route. And although my ignorance was but little enlightened l)y the catalogue of hard names thiit i'ell as glibly from his tongue as Italian from a Roman, yet 1 was both entertained and jtleased with the many stories he told : some of them legends of by-gone days, some of them the more touching and truth-dealing i-ecords of what had happened in his own time. Could I have borrowed any portion of his nar- rative power — were I able to present, in his strong but simple language, any of the curious scenes he mentioned, I should perhaps venture on relating to my reader one of his stories ; but when I think how much of the interest depended on his quaint and homely, but ever forcible manner, as, pointing with his whip to some ruined house with blackened walls and fallen chimneys, he told some narrative of rapine and of murder, 1 feel how much the force of reality added power to a stor}' that in repetition might be weak and ineffective. 234 JACIC HINT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. CHAPTER XXXIY. THE 5I0UXTAIN PASS. Ox the wliole, the jom-ney was to me a deh'ghtful one, and cer- tainly not the least pleasant portion of my life in Ireland. En- dowed — partly from his individual gifts, partly from the nature of his sacred functions — with influence over all the humble ranks in life, the good priest jogged along with the assurance of a liearty welcome wherever he pleased to halt, the only look of disappointment being when he declined some proffered civility, or refused an invitation to delay his journey. The chariot was well known in every town and village, and scarcely was the rumble of its wheels heard coming up the "street," when the population might be seen assembling in little groups and knots, to have a word with " the father"^to get his blessing — to catch his eye, or euen obtain a nod from him. He knew every one and everything, and with a tact which is believed to be the pre- rogative of royalty, he never miscalled a name nor mistook an. event. Inquiring after them, for soul and body, he entered with real interest into all their hopes and plans, their feai-s and an- ticipations, and talked away about pigs, penances, purgatory, and potatoes, in a way that showed his information, on any of these matters, to be of no mean or common order. By degrees our way left the moi'e travelled high road, and took by a mountain tract through a wild romantic line of coun- try beside the Shannon. ISTo villages now presented themselves, and indeed but little trace of any habitation whatever : large mis- shapen mountains, whose granite sides were scarce concealed by the dark fern, the only vegetation that clothed them, rose around and about us. In the valleys some strips of bog might be seen with little hillocks of newly-cut turf, the only semblance of man's work the eye could rest on. Tillage there was none. A dreary silence, too, reigned throughout. I listened in vain for the bleating of a lamb or the solitary tinkle of a sheep-bell ; but DO — save the cawing of the rooks or the mournful cry of the plover, I could hear nothing. Now and then, it is true, the heavy Happing of a strong wing would point the course of a heron soaring towards the river, but his low iiight even spoke of solitude, and showed he feared not man, in his wild and dreamy mountains. At intervals we could see the Shannon winding along, far, far down below us, and I could mark the i.shinds in the bay of Scariff, with their ruined churches and one solitary tower; but no sail floated on the surface, nor did an oar break the sluggish current of the stream. It was, indeed, yACK JIIXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 235 a dreary scene, aiul Komcliow my companion'a maimer seemed coloured by its iiiiluence, for scarcely had we entered tlio littio valley llmt loil to this mountain trafk, tlian he hecame silent and thouglilt'ul, absorbed in rollectiou. and when he sjiokceither doing so at random or in a vague and almost incoherent way that showed his ideas Avere wandering. I remarla-d that, as we stopj)ed at a little forge shortly after diiybreak, the t^uiith had taken the priest aside and whis|)('red to him a few words, at which he seemed strangely moved ; and as they spoke together for some moments in an under tone, I per- ceived by the man's manner and gesture as well as by the agi- tation of the good father himself, that something of importance was being toUl. Without waiting to finish the little repair to the carriage, which had caused our halt, he re-mounted hastily, and. beckoning me to take my place, drove on at a pace that spoke of haste and eagerness. I confess that my curiosity to know the reason was great, but as I could not with ]iropriety ask, nor did my companion seem disposed to give the information, I soon relapsed into a silence unl)roken as his own, and we travelled along for some miles without speaking. Xow and then the priest would make an effort to relieve tlie weariness of the way bv some remark upon the scenery, or some allusion to the wild grandeur of the pass ; but it was plain he spoke only from constraint, and that his mind was occupied on other and very different thoughts. It was now wearing late, and yet no trace of any house or habitation could I see, where to rest for the night. Not wishing, hov/ever, to interrupt the current of my friend's thoughts, 1 maintained my silence, straining my eyes on every side, from the dark mountains that towered above me, to the narrow gloomy valley that lay several hundred feet beneath our track — but all in vain. The stillness was unbroken, and not a roof, not even a smoke-wreath could be seen far as the view extended. The road by which we travelled was scarped from the side of a mountain, and for some miles pursued a gradually descending course. On suddenly turning the angle of a rocky wall that skirted us for above a mile, we came in sight of a long reach of the Shannon ujion which the sun was now setting in all its golden lustre. The distant shore of I^Iunster, rich in tillage and pasture-land, was lit up, too, with corn-lield and green meadow, leafy wood and blue mountain, all glowing in their brightest hue. It was a vivid and a gorgeous picture, and I could have looked on it long with pleasure, when suddenly I felt my arm grasped by a strong finger. L turned round, and the ]u-iest, re- laxing his hold, pointed down into the dark valley below us, as he said in alow and agitated voice— "You see the light— it 13 there— there." Quickening our pace bjr every effort, we began rapidly to descend the mountain by a zig-zag road, whose wind- 236 ' JACK HiNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. ings soon lost us the view I have mentioned, and left nothing but the wild and barren mountains around us. Tired as our poor horse was, the priest pressed him forward, and regardless of the broken and rugged way, beseemed to think of nothing but his haste, muttering between his teeth with a low but rapid articulation, while his face grew flushed and pale at intervals, and his eye had all the lustrous glare and restless look of fever. I endeavoured, as well as I was able, to occupy my mind with other thoughts, but with that invincible fascination that turns ns ever to the side we try to shun, I found myself again and again gazing on my companion's countenance. Every moment now his agitation increased; his lips were firmly closed; his brow contracted ; his cheek flattened, and quivering with a ner- vous spasm, while his hand trembled violently as he wiped the big drops of sweat that rolled in agony from his forehead. At last we reached the level, where a better road presented itself before us, and enabled us so to increase our speed that we were rapidly coming up with the light, which, as the evening closed in, seemed larger and brighter than before. It was now that hour when the twilight seems fading into night, a grey and sombre darkness colouring every object, but yet marking grass and rock, pathway and river with some seeming of their noonday hues, so that as we came along I could make out the roof and walls of a mud cabin built against the very mountain side, in the gable of which the light was shining. A rapid, a momen- tary thought flashed across my mind as to what dreary and solitary man could flx his dwelling-place in such a spot as this, when in an instant the priest suddenly pulled up the horse, and, stretching out one hand with a gesture of listening, whispered — "Hark! — did you not hear that ? " As he spoke, a cry, wild and fearful, rose through the gloomy valley — at first in one pro- longed and swelling note, then broken as if by sobs, it altered, sunk, and rose again wilder and madder, till the echoes, catching up the direful sounds, answered and repeated them as though a chorus of unearthly spirits were calling to each other through the air. " God ! too late — too late," said the priest, as he bowed hi"! face upon his knees, and his strong frame shook in agony. " O Father of mercy," he cried, as he lifted his eyes, bloodshot and tearful, toward heaven, " forgive me this — and if unshriven before thee " Another cry, more frantic than before, here burst upon us, and the priest, muttering with rapid utterance, appt ared lost in prayer. But at him I looked no longer, for straight before us on the road, and in front of the little cabin, now not above thirty paces from us, knelt the figure of a woman, whom, were it not from the fearful sounds we had heard, one could scarce believe a thing of life : her age not more than thirty years ; she was pale as death ; not a tinge, not a ray of colour JACK IILXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 237 strealvcd lior IjIooJIcss check ; her black hair, long and wild, ffll upon her back and shoulders, strai^'gling and disordered; her hands were clapped as she held her stiU'eued arms straight before her. Her dress bespoke the meanest poverty, and her sunken cheek and drawn-in lips betokened hiuiiiieand starvation. As I gazed on her almost breathless with awe and dread, the prie.st leaped out, and hurrying forward, called out to her in Irish, but she heard him not, she saw him not; — dead to every sense, she remained still and motionless. No feature trembled, no limb was shaken; she knelt before us, like an image uf stone ; and then, as if by some spell that worked within her, once more gave forth the heart-rending cry we heard at first. Now, low and plaintive, like the sigliing night-wind, it rose fuller and fuller, pausing and continuing at intervals, and then breaking into short and fitful efi'orts, it grew wilder and stronger, till, at last, with one outbreak, like the overflowing of a heart of misery, it ceased abrupt l3^ The priest bent over her and spoke to her; lie called her by her name, and shook her several times — but all in vain. Her spirit, if indeed, present with her body, had lost all sympathy with things of earth. "God help her ! " said he ; " God comfort her! This is sore afliiction." As he spoke he walked towards the little cabin, the door of which now stood open. All was still and silent within its walks. Unused to see the dwellings of the poor in Ireland, my eye ranged over the bare walls, the damp and earthen floor, the few and miserable pieces of furniture — when suddenly my attention was called to another and a sadder spectacle. In one corner of the hovel, stretched upon a bed, whose poverty might have made it unworthy of a dog to lie in, lay the figure of a large and powerfully-built man, stone dead. His eyes were closed, and the chin bound uj) with a white cloth, and a sheet, torn and ragged, was stretched above his cold limbs, while on either side of him two candles were burning. His features, though rigid and stiffened, were manly, and even handsome ; the bold charac- ter of the face heightened in eflect by his beard and moustache, which appeared to have been let grow for some time previous, and whose black and waving curl looked darker, from the pallor around it. Some lines there were about the mouth, that looked like harshness and severity, but the struggle of departing life might have caused them. Gently withdrawing the sheet that covered him, the priest placed his hand upon his heart. It was evident to me, from his manner, that he still believed him living; and as he rolled back the covering, he felt for his hand. Suddenly starting, he fell back for an instant ; and as he moved his fingers backwards and forwards, I saw that they were covered with blood. 1 drew S 238 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. near, and now perceived that the dead man's chest was laid open by a wound of several inches in extent. The ribs had been cut across, and some portion of the heart or lung seemed to protrude. At the slightest touch of the body, the blood gushed forth anew, and ran in streams upon him. His right hand, too, was cut across the entire palm — the thumb nearly severed at the joint. This appeared to have been rudely bound together ; but it was evident, from the nature and the size of the other wound, that he could not have survived it many hours. As I looked in horror at the frightful spectacle before me, my foot struck at something beneath the bed. I stooped down to examine, and found it was a carbine, such as dragoons usually carry. It was broken at the stock, and bruised in many places, but still seemed not unserviceable. Part of the butt-end was also stained with blood. The clothes of the dead man, clotted and matted with gore, were also there, adding, by their terrible testimony, to the dreadful fear that haunted me. Yes, every- thing confirmed it, — murder and crime had been there. A low, muttermg sound near made me turn my head, and I saw the priest kneeling beside the bed, engaged in prayer. His head was bare, and he wore a kind of scarf of blue silk and the small case that contained the last rites of his cliurch was placed at his feet. Apparently lost to all ai'ound, save the figure of the man that lay dead before hirn, he muttered, with ceaseless rapidity, prayer after prayer, shopping, ever and anon, to place his hand on the cold heart, or to listen, with his ear iipon the livid lips; and then resuming, with greater eagerness, while the big drops rolled from his forehead, and the agonizing torture he felt convulsed his entire frame. " God ! " he exclaimed, after a prayer of some minutes, in which his features worked like one in a tit of epilepsy — " God, is it then too late? " He started to his feet as he spoke, and bending over the corpse, with hands clasped above his head, he poured forth a whole torrent of words in Irish, swaying his body backwards and tbrwards, as his voice, becoming broken by emotion, now sunk into a whisper, or broke into a discordant shout : — " Shaun, Shaun," cried he, as, stooping down to the ground, he snatched tip the little crucifix and held it before the dead man's face, at the same time he shook him violently by the shoulder, and cried, in accents I can never forget, some words aloud, among which alone I could recognize one word — Thea — the Irish word for God. He shook him till his head rocked heavily from side to side, and the blood oozed from the opening wound, and stained the ragged covering of the bed. At this instant the priest stopped suddenly, and foil upon his knees, while, with a yACK /IIATOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 239 low, faint sij^li, he wlio sconicd dead lifted his eyes arid looked aroiiiHl hitii, his hands praspod the sides of llio bed, and, with a Ktien<,'th tliat seemed supernatural, he raised himself to a sitting postnre. Ilis lips were jtarted and moved, but without a sound, and his filmy eyes turned slowly in their sockets from one oliject to anotlier, till, at length, they i'cll upon the little crucifix that hail dvopjied frntn the ]>rie.st"s hand upon the bed. In an instaTit the corpse like features seemed inspired with life — a gleam of brightness shot from his eyes — the head nodded for- ward a couple of times, and 1 thought I heard a discordant, liroken sound issue from the open mouih, and, a moment after, the head dropped upon the chest, and the hands relaxed, and he tell back with a crash, never to move more. Overcome with horror, 1 staggered to the door, and sank upon a little bench in front of the cabin. The cool air of the night .•-oon brought me to myself, and while, in my confused state, I wondered if the whole might not bo some dreadful dream, mv eyes once more fell upon the iigure of the woman, who still knelt in the attitude we had first seen her. Her hands were clasped before her, and from time to time her wild cry rose into the air, and woke the echoes of that silent valley. A faint inoonlight lay in broken patches around her, and mingled its beams witli the red glare of the little caudles within, as their light fell upon her marble features. From the cabin I could hear the sounds of the priest's voice, as he continued to pray without ceasing. As the hours rolled on, nothing changed, and when, ]>ronipted by curiosity, I looked within the hovel, I saw the priest still kneeling beside the bed, his face pale, and sunk, and haggard, as though months of sickness and suffering had passed over him. I dared not speak — I dared not disturb him, and 1 sat down near the door in silence. It is one of the strange nnemalies of our nature that the feelings which rend our hearts with agony have a tendency, by their continuance, to lull us into slumber. The watcher by the bed.side of his dying friend — the felon in his cell, but a few hours before death, sleep — and sleep soundly. The bitterness (if grief would seem to blunt sensation, and the mind, like the body, can only sustain a certain amount of burden, after which it succumbs and yields ; so 1 found it amid this scene of horror and anguish, with everything to excite that can operate nj^on tlie mind : — the woman stricken motionless and senseless by grief — the dead mnn. as it were, recalled to life by the words that were to herald him into life everlasting — the old man, whom I had known but as a gay companion. dis]ihi}-ed now before my eyes in all the workings of his feeling heart, called up by the atllic- tionsof one world and the terrors of another ; and this in a wild and dreary valley, far from man's dwelling. Yet, amid all this. 240 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAM. and more than all, the harassing conviction of some deed of blood, some dark hour of crime had been here at work, perhaps to be concealed for ever, and go unavenged, save of heaven — and yet, with this around and about me, I slept. How long I know not; but when I woke, the mist of morning hung in the valley, or rolled, in masses of cloud-like vapour, along the mountain-side. In an instant, the whole scene of the i:)revious night was before me, and the priest still knelt beside the bed and prayed. I looked for the woman, but she was gone. The noise of wheels, at some distance, could now be heard on the mountain-road; and as I walked stealthily from the door, I could see three figures descending the pass, followed by a car and horse. As they came along, I marked that beneath tlie straw on the car, something protruded itself on either side, and this, I soon saw, was a coffin. As the men approached the angle of the road they halted, and seemed to converse in an eager and anxious manner, when, suddenly, one of them broke from the others, and, springing to the top of a low wall that skirted the road, continued to look steadily at the house for some minutes together. Tlie thought flashed on me at the moment, that perhaps my being a stranger to them might have caused their hesitation, so I waved my hat a couple of times above my head. Upon this they resumed their march, and in a ie.'^ minutes more were standing beside me. One of them, who was an old man, with hard, weather-beaten features, addressed me, first in Irish, but correcting himself, at once asked, in a low, steady voice, — " Was the priest in time ? Did he get the rites ? " I nodded in reply ; when he muttered, as if to himself, — " God's will be clone. Shaun didn't tell of Hogan " " Whisht ! father — whisht ! " said one of the younger men, as he laid his lumd upon the old man's arm ; while he added something in Irish, gesticulating with energy as he spoke. " Is Mary come back, sir? " said the third, as he touched his iiat to me respectfully. "The woman — his wife?" said I ; "I have not seen her to-day." " She was up with us, at Kiltimmon, at two o'clock this morning, but woxildn't wait for us. She wanted to get back at once, poor crayture ! She bears it well, and has a htout heart. — Faith, maybe before long she'll make some others laint in their hearts that have stricken hers this night." " Was she calm, then ? " said I. " As you are this minute; and sure enough she helped me, with her own hands, to put the horse in the car : for, you see, I couldn't lift the shaft with my one arm." I r^w saw that his arm was bound up, and buttoned within the bosom of his great- eoat. JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAX. 241 The priost now joined us, and spoke for several minutes in Insli ; and, lillhough ignorant of all he said, I could mark, in the tone of Ills voice, his look, his manner, and his gesture, that his words wore those of rebuke and iei)r(jbatioii. The old man heard him in silence, but without any evidence of feeling. Tiio others, on the contrary, seemed deeply adected, and the younger of the two, whose arm was broken, seemed greatly moved, and tho tears rolled down his harJy cheeks. These signs of emotion were evidently displeasing to the old man, whose nature was of a sterner and more cruel mould; and. as he turned away from the father's admcmtion, ho moved past me, muttering, as he went, — " Isn't it all fair ? — blood for blood ; and sure they dhruv him to it." After a few words from the priest, two of the party took their spades from the car, and began digging the grave; while Father Loftus, leading the other aside, talked to him for s'ime time. " Be gorra," said the old man, as he shovelled the earth to either side, " Father Tom isn't like himself, at all, at all. lie used to have pity, and the kind word for the poor, when they were turned out on the world to starve, without as much as a sheaf of straw to lie upon, or potatoes enough for the children to eat." " Whisht ! father, or the priest will hear ye," said the younger one, looking cautiously around. " Sorrow bit o' me cares ; if he does, it's thruth I'm telling.— You are not long in these parts, sir, av I may make so bowld r* " "No," said I, "I'm quite a stranger." " Well, anyhow, ye may understand that this isn't a fine soil for a potato-garden; and yet, the devil a other poor Shaun had, since they turned him out on the road last Michaolmas-diiy, himself, and Ins wife, and the little gossoon— the only one liny had, too — with a fever and ague upon him. The poor chi d, however, didn't feel it lonK, for he died in ten days after. We.l, well ! the ways of C!od there's no saying against it. But sure, if the little buy didn't die, Shaun was off to America, fur he Ink his passage, and got a sea-chest of a friend, and was all ready to go; but, yuu see, when the child died, he could not bring himself to leave the grave ; and there he used to go and spend half of his days tixing it, and settling the sods about it, and wouldn't take a day's work from any of the neighbours; and at last he went off one night, and we never knew what was become of him till a pedlar brought word that he and Mary was living in the Cluaii Beg, away from everybody, without a trieiid to say ' God save you 1 '—It's deep enough now, Mickey— there'.s nobody will turn him out of this.— And so. sir, he might have lived for many a year; but when ho heerd that the boya was up, and going to settle a reckoniug with Mr. Tarletou " 242 JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. " Come yon," cried the priest — who joined us at the moment, and from whose look I could perceive was evidently displeased at the old man's communicativeness — " come you ; the sooner you all get back the better. We must look after Mary, too ; for God knows where she is wandering. And now let us put the poor boy in the earth." With slow and sullen steps the old man entered the house, followed by the others. I did not accompany them, but stood beside the grave, my mind full of all I heard. In a few minutes they returned, carrying the cofhn, one corner of which was borne by the priest himself. Their heads were bare, and their features ■were pale and care-worn. They placed the body in the grave, and gazed down after it for some seconds. The pries u spoke a few words, in a low, broken voice, the very sounds of which, though their meaning was x'.nknown to me, sunk deep into my heart. He whispered for an instant to one of the young men, who went into the cabin, and speedily returned, carrying with him some of the clothes of the deceased, and the old cai'bino that lay beneath the bed. " Throw them in the grave, Mickey — throw them in," said the priest. " Where's his coat.'^ " " It isn't there, sir," said the man. " That's everything that lias a mark of blood upon it." " Give me that gun," cried the priest; and at the same mo- ment he took the carbine by the end of the barrel, and by one stroke of his strong foot snapped it at the breech. " My curse be on you," said he, as he kicked the fragments into the grave ; "there was peace and happiness in the land before men knew ye, and owned ye. Ah ! Hugh," said he, turning his eyes fiercely on the old man, " I never said ye hadn't griefs and trials, and sore ones, too, some of them; but, God help you, it ye think that an easy conscience and a happy home can be bought by murder." The old man started at the words, and aa his dark brow loured, and his lip trembled, I drew near to the priest, fearful lest an attack might be made on him. "Ay, murder, boys — that's the word, and no less. Don't tell me about right- ing yourselves ; and blood for blood, and all that. There's a curse upon the land where these things happen, and the earth is not lucky that is moistened with the blood of God's crea- tures." " Cover him up— cover him up ! " said the old man, shovelling in the earth, so as to drown the priest's words, " and let us be going. We ought to be back by six o'clock, unless," added he with a sarcastic bitterness that made him look like a fiend — " unless your reverence is going to set the police on our track." " God forgive you, Hugh, and turn your heart," said the old man, as he shook his outstretched hands at him. As he spoke these words he took me by the arm, and led me within the JACK n/yrox, riii: guardsman. 243 house. I coiilJ ft'cl hid hand tremble as it leaned upon nie, and tlie big tears rolled down bis cheeks in silence. We sat down in the little cabin, but neither of us spoke. After some time we heard the noi.se of the cart-wheels, and the sound of voices, which grew fainter and fainter as they passed up the glen, and, at length, all became still. " And the poor wife," said I, " what, think you, has becomo of her?" " Gone home to her people, most likely," answered the priest. " Iler misfortunes will make her a home in every cabin. None so poor, none so wretched as not to succour and shelter her. But let us hence." We walked forth from the hovel, and the priest closing the door after him, fastened it with a padlock that ho had found within, and then, placing the key upon the door-sill, he turned to depart — but, suddenly stopping, he took my hand in both of his, and said, in a voice of touching earnestness: — " This has been a sad scene. Would to God you had not witnessed it. AVould to God, rather, that it might not have occurred. But promise me, on the faith of a man of honour, and the word of a gentleman, that what you have seen this night you reveal to no man, until I have passed av/ay myself, and stand before that judgment to which we all are coming." " I promise you faithfully," said I. " And now let us leave a spot that has thrown a gloom upon my heart a life long will never obliterate." CHAPTER XXXV. THE JOURNEY As WO issued from the glen the country became more open, ■ patches of cultivation presented themselves, and an air of com- fort and condition superior to what we had hitherto seen was observable in the dwellings of the country people. The road led through a broad valley bounded on one side by a ch&in of Jofty mountains, ami on the other separated by the Shannon from the swelling hills of Munster. Deeply engaged in our thoughts, we travelled along for some miles without speaking. The scene we had witnessed was of that kind that seemed to forbid our recurrence to it, save in our own gloomy reflections. We had uot gone far when the noise of horsemen on the road 244 JACK HINTON. THE GUARDSMAN. behind us induced us to turn our heads. They came along at a sharp trot, and we could soon perceive that although the two or three foremost were civilians, they who followed were dragoons. I thought I saw the priest change colour as the clank of the accoutrements struck upon his ear. I had, how- ever, but little time for the observation, as the party soon over- took us. " You are early on the road, gentlemen," said a strong, power- fully built man, who mounted upon a grey horse of great bone and action, rode close up beside us. " Ah, Sir Thomas, is it you ? " said the priest, affecting at once his ibrmer easy and indifferent manner. " I'd rather see the hounds at your back than those beagles of King George there. Is there anything wrong in the country ? " "Let me ask you another question," said the knight in answer. '• How long have you been in it, and where did you pass the night, not to hear of what has occurred ^ " " Faith, a home question," said the priest, summoning up a hearty laugh to conceal his emotion ; '" but if the truth must out, we came round by the pnory aL Glenduff, as my triend here l)eing an Englishman may I beg to present him to you — Mr. Hmton — Sir Thomas Garland — rhe heard wonders of the monks' way of living up there, and I wished to let him judge for himself." " Ah, that accounts for it," said the tall man to himself. " We have had a sad affair of it, Father Tom. Poor Tarlcton has been murdered." " Murdered ! " said the priest, with an expression of horror in his countenance I could scarcely believe feigned. "Yes, murdereJ. The house was attacked a little after mid- night. The parly must have been a large one, for while they forced in the hall door, the haggard and the stables were seen in a blaze. Poor George had just retired to bed, a little later than usual, for his sons had returned a few hours before from Piiblin, where they had been to attend their college examination. The villains, however, knew the house well, and made straight lor his room. He got up in an instant, and, seizing a sabre that hung beside his bed, defended himself, with the courage of desperation, against them all. The sculile and the noise soon brought his sons to the spot, who, although mere boys, behaved in the most gallant manner. Overpowered at last by numbers, and covered with wounds, they dragged poor Tarleton down stairs, shouting out as they went, 'Bring him down to Freney's — let the bloody villain see the black walls and the cold hearth he has made before he dies.' It was their intention to murder him on tie spot where, a few weeks before, a distress for rent had been executed against some of his tenants. He grasped the banisters with a despairing clutch, while fixing his eyes JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 245 upon liis servant, who liaJ lived with him for somo years past, he called out to him in his agony to save him; but the frllow came dclilxTatcly forward and held the flame of a raiidlu betu'atli the dyiiit,' mans lingers, until lie relaxed his hold and fell back among his murderers. Yes, yes, father, llcnry 'J'arleton saw it with his own eyes, for while his brother was st retailed senseless on the Hoor, he was struggling with the otliers at the head of the staircase : and, strange enongli too, they never hurt the boys, but when thoy had wreaked tiieir vengeance on the father, bound them back to back, and left them." " Can they identify any of them ? " said the priest, with intense emotion in his voice and manner. ''.Scarcely, I fear; their faces were blackened, and thoy wore shirts over their coats. Hcnrj' thinks he could swear to two or three of the number; but our best chance of discovery lies in the fact, that several of them were badly wounded, and one in particular, whom he saw cut down by his father's sabre, was carried downstairs by his comrades, bathed in blood." " lie didn't recognize him? " said the ])ri('st, eagerly. "No; but here comes the poor boy, so Til wish you good- morning." He put spurs to his horse as he spoke and dashed forward, followed by the dragoons ; while at the same moment, on the opposite side of the road, a young man — i)ale, with his dress disordered, his arm in a sling, rode by. He never turned a lc»ok aside; his iihny eye was fixed, as it were, on some far-off ol)]cct, and he seemed scarce to guide his horse as he galloped onward over the rugged road. The priest relaxed Ins jjace to permit the crowd of horsemen to pass on, while his countenance once more assumed its drooping and despondent look, and he relapsed into his former silence. '• Y'ou see that high mountain to the left there," said he after a long pause. 'Well, our road lies avcjund the foot of it; and, please (Jod, by to-morrow evening we'll be some five-and-twenty miles on the other side, in the heart of my own wild country, witli the big mountains behind you, and the great blue Atlantic rearing its frothing waves at your feet." He stopi)ed for an instant, and then grasping my arm with his strong hand, con- tinued ill a low, distinct voice : — " Never speak to me nor ques- tion me about what we saw last night, and try only to remem- ber it as a t^ream. And now let me tell you how I intend to amuse you in the far west." Here the priest began a spirited and interesting description of tlie scenery and the people— their habits, their superstitions, and their pastimes. Sustaining the interest of his account with legend and story— now grave, now gay ; sometimes recalling a 246 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. trait from the older history of the land ; sometimes detailing an incident of the fair or the market, but always by his wonderful knowledge of the peasantry, their modes of thinking and reason- ing, and by hia imitation of their figurative and forcible expres- sions, able to carry me with him, whether he took the mountain's side for his path — sat beside some cotter's turf- tire — or skimmed along the surface of the summer sea in the frail bark of an Achill fisherman. I learnt from him that in the wild region where he lived, there were above fifteen thousand persons, scarce one of whom could speak or understand a word of English. Of these he was not only the priest, but the ruler and judge. Before liim all their disputes were settled — all their differences reconciled. Plis ■word, m the strongest sense of the phrase, was a law — not indeed to be enforced by baj^onets and policemen, by constables and sheriffs' officers — but one which in its moral force demanded obedience, and would have made him who resisted it an outcast among his fellows. " We are poor," said the priest, " but we ai'e happy. Crime is unknown among us, and the blood of man has not been shed in strife for fifty years within the barony. AVheii will ye learn this in England? When will ye know that these people may be led but never driven — that they may be persuaded but never compelled? When will ye condescend to bend so far the prerogative of your birth, your riches, and your rank, as to rea- son with the poor and humble peasant that looks up to you for protection? Alas ! my young friend, were you to ask me what is the great source of misery of this unhappy land, I should tell you, the superior intelligence of its people. I see a smile, but hear me out. Unlike the peasantry of other countries, they are not content. Their chai'acters are mistaken, their traits misconstrued — partly from indifference, partly from prejudice, and in a great measure because it is the fasliion to recognize in the tiller of the soil a mere drudge, with scarce more intelligence than the cattle in his plough, or the oxen in his team ; but here you have a people quick, sharp-sighted, and intelligent, able to scan your motives with ten times the accuracy you can guess at theirs ; suspicious, because their credulity has been abused ; revengeful, because their wild nature knows no other vindicator than their own right arm ; lawless, for they look upon your institutions as the sources of their misery and the instru- ments of your tyranny towards them; reckless, for they have nothing to lose ; indolent, for they have nothing to gain. With- out an eflort to win their confidence or secure their good-will, you overwhelm them with institutions — cumbrous, complicated, and unsuitable ; and while you nei,'lect or despise all appeal to their feelings or atieetions, you place your faith in your soldiery or a special commission. Heaven help you ! you may thin them JACK JIINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 247 off by the pallows and transportation, but the root of tlie pvil is as fur fmin you as ever. You do not know them — you will not know thoni : more pn ne to punish than prevent, you an; satisfied with the working of the law, and not shocked willi the accumulation of crime: and when broken by poverty and paralyzed by famine, a gloomy desolation spreads over the laml, von meet in terms of congratulation to talk over tranquillized Ireland." In this straiji did the good priest continue to develop his views concerning his country ; the pivot of his argument being, that to a people so essentially different in every respect, Eng- lish institutions and English laws were inadequate and unsuit- able. [Sometimes I could not only follow, but agree witii him. At others, I could but dimly pcrci'ive his meaning and dissent from the very little 1 could cutch. Enough of this, however. In a biography so flimsy as mine, politics would play but an unseemly part; and even were it otlurwise, my opportunities were too few, and my own incapacity too great to make my opinions of any value on a subject so complicated and so vast. Still the topic served to shorten the road, and when, towards evening, we found ourselves in the comfortable parlour of the little inn at Ballyhocsousth,* so far had we both regained our spirits that ouce more the priest's jovial good-humour irradiated his happy countenance, and I myself, hourly improving in health and strength, felt already the bracing influence of the mountain air, and that strong sense of liberty, never more thoroughly appreciated than when regaining vigour after the sufl'erings of a sick I sd. W^e were seated by an open window looking out upon the landscape. It was past sunset, and the tall shadows of the mountains were meeting across the lake, like spirits who waited for the night-hour to interchange their embraces. A thin pale crescent of a new moon marked the blue sky, but did not dim the lustHe of the thousand stars that glittered round it. All was hushed and still, save the deep note of the rail, or the measured plash of oars heard from a long distance. The rich meadows that sloped down to the water sent up their delicious odours in the balmy air, and there stole over the senses a kind of calm and peaceful pleasure that such a scene at such au hour can alone impart. "This is beautiful — this is very beautiful, father," said I. "So it is, sir," said the priest. "Let no Irishman wander for scenery : he has as m.uch right to go travel in search of wit and good fellowship. "We don't want for blessings. All wo need is, to know how to enjoy them. And believe me, there is a plentiful feast on the table if gentlemen would only pasa • Anglici -i:Qf!n of the Fight of Flail*. 248 JACK HlXrON, THE GUARDSMAN.' down the dishes. And now, that reminds me — what are yoa drinking?— negns. I wouldn't wish it to my greatest enemy. But, to be sure, I am always forgetting you are not one of our- selves. There, reach me over that square decanter. It wouldn't have been so full now if we had had poor Bob here — poor fellow ! but one thing is certain, wherever he is, he is happy. I believe I never told you how he got into his present scrape." "No, father; and that's precisely the very thing I wish to ask you." "You shall hear it, and it isn't a bad story in its way: but don't you think the night air is a little too much for you— shall we close the window ? " " If it depend on me, father, pray leave it open." " Ha, ha, I was forgetting again," said the old fellow, laughing roguishly, '' stella sunt amantium ocidi, as Phuris says. There now. don't be blushing, but listen to me. _ " It was somewhere about last November that Bob got a quiet hint from some one at Daly's that the sooner he got out of Dublin the more conducive it would he to his iiersonal freedom, as various writs were Hying about the capital alter him. He took the hint, and set off the same night, and reached his beautiful chateau of Newgate without let or molestation— which having victualled for the winter, he could, if necessary, sustain a reasonable siege against any force the law was hkely to brmg up. The house had an abundant supply oi arms— there were guns that figured in '41, pikes that had done good service a little later, swords of every shape— from the two-handed weapon of the twelfth century to a Roman pattern made out of a scythe by a smith in the neighbourhood, but the grand terror of the country was an old four-pounder of Cromwell's time, that the major had mounted on the roof, and whose eli'ects, if only pro- portionately injurious to the enemy to the results nearer home, must indeed have been a formidable engine ; tor the only time it was fired— J believe to celebrate Bob s birthday— it knocked down a chimney with the recoil, blew the gardener and another man about ten feet into the air, and hurltd Bob himself through a skylight into the housekeeper's room. No matter for that,°it had a great effect in raising the confidence of the country people, some of whom verily believed that the ball was rolling for a week after. " Bob, I say, victualled the fortress, but he did more— for he assembled all the tenants, and in a short but pithy speech he told them the state of his affairs, explaining with considerable eloquence what a misfortune it would be for them if by any chance they were to lose him for a landlord. '"See now, boys,' said he, 'there's no knowing what mis- fortune wouldn't happen ye ; they'd put a receiver on the i)ro- perty— a spalpeen with bailiffs and constables after him— that JACK IlJNTOh\ THE GUARDSMAN. 249 Would be iiKikinpf you pay up the rent — auJ lailli I wouldn't say but maybe he'd ask you for the arrears.' '''Oh, niurther, murthcr! did anyone ever hear the like!' the ]>('opl(! (;ritd on every side, and Bub, like a clever orator, continued to picture forth additional miseries and misfortunes to them, if such a calamitous event were to happen, explaiiiin.? at the same time the coutcmptiblo nature of the per.scculioa practised aifainst him. " ' No, bo3's,' cried he, 'there isn't a man among them all that has the couracre to come down and ask for his money, face tu face, but they set up a pair of fellows they call John ]")oe ami Kichard Roe — there's names for you ! Did yon ever hear of a gentleman in the country with names like that? but that's not the worst of it, for you see even these two chaps can't be found. It's truth I'm telliiifr you, asid some people go so far as to say that tliere is no such people at all, and it's only a way they have to worry and annoy country gentlemen with what they call a fiction of the law; and my own notion is, that the law is nothing but lies and fiction from beginning to end.' " A very loud cheer from Bob's audience proclaimed how perfectly they coincided in his opinion; and a keg of whi.sk v being brought into the lawn, each man drained a glass to his health, uttering at the same time a determination with respect to the law officers of the crown tliat boded but little happiness to them when they made a tour in tiie neighbourhood. " In about a week after this there was a grand drawing home ; that's, you understand, what we call in Ireland bringing in the liarvest ; and sure enongli, the farm-yard presented a verv comely sight, with ricks of hay, and stacks of corn, and oats, and barley, and outhouses full' of potatoes, and in fact ever\ - thing th(i country produces, besides cows and horses, sheeji. pigs, goats, and even turkeys, for most of the tenants paid their rents in kind, and as Bob was an easy landlord, very few cam- without a little present — a game-cock, a jackass, a ram, t>r some amusing iieast or other. Well, the ne.xt day — it was a fine dry day with a light Irost, and as the bog was hard, Jii.b sent them all away to bring in the turf. Why, then, but it is a beautiful sight, captain, and I wish you saw it ; maybe two or three hundred cars all going as fast as they can pelt, on a fine bright day with a blue sky and a sharp air, the boys standing up in the kishes driving without rein or halter — always at a gallop— for all the world like Ajax, Ulysses, and the rest of them that we read of; and the girls, as pretty craytures as ever you threw an eye upon, with their short red petticoats, an 1 their hair plaited and fastened up at the back of their heads : on my conscience the Trujan women was nothing to them. B-t to come back. Bob Mahon was coming home from the li g about fiive o'clock in the evening, cantering along on a litil-.- dun 2 so JACI^ 1 1 IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. pony lie had, tliinbing of nothing at all, except, maybe, the elegant rick of turf that he'd be bringing home in the morning, when what did he see before him but a troop of dragoons, and at their head old Basset, the sub-sherifF, and another fellow whose face he had often seen in the Four-courts of Dublin. ' By the mortial,' said Bob, 'lam done for;' for he saw in a moment that Basset had waited until all the country jjeople were employed at a distance to come over and take him. How- ever, he was no ways discouraged, but brushing his way through the dragoons, he rode up beside Basset's gig, and taking a long pistol out of the holster, he began to examine the priming as cool as may be. •■'How are you, Nick Basset.^' said Bob; 'and where are 3'ou going this evening? ' "' How are you, major .^' said Basset, with his eye all the while upon tlie pistol. ' It is an unpleasant business — a mighty unpleasant business to m.e, Major Bob,' says he; ' but the truth is, there is an execution against you, and my friend here, Mr. Hennessy, Mr. Heunessy — Major Mahon asked me to come over with him, because as I knew you ' ■' ' Well, well,' said Bob, interrupting him. ' Have you a writ ngnlust me — is it me you want.'' ' " ' Nothing of the kind. Major Mahon. God forbid we'd touch a hair of your head. It's just a kind of a capias, as I may say, nothing more.' " ' And why did you bring the dragoons with you ? ' said Bob, looking at him mighty hard. " Basset looked very sheepish, and didn't know what to say, but Mahon soon relieved him — "'Never mind, Nick, never mind, you can't help your trade; but how would you look if I was to raise the country on ye? ' " ' You wouldn't do the lik^ , major — but surely, if you did, the troops ' •' • The troops ! ' said Bob: ' God help you ! we'd be twenty — ■ ay, thirty to one. See now, if I give a whistle, this minute ' " ' Don't distress yourself, major,' said Basset, ' for the decent people are a good six miles off at the bog, and couldn't hear you if you wliistled ever so loud.' "The moment he said this Bob saw that the old rogue was up to him, and he began to wonder within himself wliat was best to be done. " ' See now, Nick,' said he, ' it isn't like a friend to bring up all these redcoats here upon me, before my tenanlrj, disgracing me in the face of my people. Send them back to the town, and go up yourself with Mr. Hennessy there, and do whatever you have to do.' " ' No, no,' screamed Hennessy, ' I'll never part with the soldiers.' y.ACK htlNTON, THE GUARDSMAA\ -51 •" Very well' said Bob, 'take your own way and sec what will come of it.' " Ho put spurs to his pony as he saitl this, and was just strikiiii^ into the gallop, whou Nick called out, — " ' Wait a bit, luajor, wait a bit. It" we leave the dragoons where we are now, will you give us your word of honour not to hurt or molest us in the discliarge of our duty, nor let any one else do so? ' '• ' I will,' said Bob, ' now that you talk reasonably ; I'll treat you well.' "After a little parley it was settled that part of the dragoons were to wait on the road, and the rest of them in the hiwu before the house, while Nick and his friend were to go through the ceremony of seizing Bob's eflects, and make an inventory of every thingthcy could find. " ' A mere matter of form, Jrajor Mahon,' .siad he : ' we'll make it as short as possible, and leave a couple of men in possession; aud as I knosv the affair will be arranged in a few days ' '■ ' Of course,' says Bob laughing; ' nothing easier. So come along now and let me show 3'ou the way.' " When they reached the house. Bob ordered up dinner at once, and behaved as politely as possible, telling them it was early and they would have plenty of time for everything in the evening. But whether it was that they had no appetite just then, or that they were not over-easy in their minds about Bob himself, they declined everything, and began to set about their work. To it they went with pen and ink, j)utting down all the chairs and tables, the cracked china, and tlie tireinms, and at last Bob left them counting over about twenty pairs of old top- boots that stood along the wall of his dressing-room. '•' Ned,' said Bob to his own man, 'get two big padlocks and put them on the door of the hay-loft as fast as you can.' " 'Sure it is empt}^ sir,' said "Ned ; ' barrin' the rats, there's nothing in it.' '" Don't I know that as well as you ? ' said Bob ; ' hut can't you do as you are bid, and when you've Jone it, take the pony and^ gallop over to the bog, and tell the people to throw the turf out of their carts and gallop up here as fast as they can ? ' "He'd scarcely said it when Nick called out, 'Now, major, for the farm-yard, if you please.' And so taking Hennessy's arm, he walked out, followed by the two big bailiffs, that never left them for a moment. To be sure it was a great sight when they got outside and saw all the ricks and stacks as thick as they could stand; aud so they began counting and putting thera down on paper, and the devil a thing they forgot, not even the boneens and the bantams, aud at last Nick fixed his eye upon the little door into the loft, upon which now two great big pad- locks were hanging. 252 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. "'I suppose it's oats you have up there, major? ' said he. "'No, iudeed,' said Bob. looking a Httle confused. " ' Maybe seed-potatoes? ' said Hennessy. *' ' Nor it neither,' said he. " ' Barley, it's likely ? ' cried Nick ; ' it is a fine dry loft.' " ' No,' said Bob, ' it is empty.' " And with that he endeavoured to turn them away and fjet them back into the house ; but old Basset turned back, and fix- ing his eye njjon the door, shook his head for a couple of minutes. " 'Well,' said he, ' for an emptv loft it has the finest pair of padlocks I ever looked at. Would there be any objection, major, to our taking a peep into it ? ' " 'None,' said Bob, 'but I haven't a ladder that long in the place.' '•' I think this might reach,' said Hennessy, as he touched one with his foot that lay clode along the wall, partly covered with straw. " ' Just the thing,' said Nick ; while poor Bob hung down hi.s head and said nothing. With that they raised the ladder and placed it against the door. '"flight I trouble you for the key, Major Mahon ? ' said Hennessy. " ' I believe it is mislaid,' said Bob, in a kind of sulky way, at wbicli they both grinned at each other, as much as to say ' W'e 1 ave him now.' '• ' You'll nottake it amiss then, major, if we break the door ? ' said Nick. " ' You may break it, and be hanged,' said Bob, as he stuck his hands into his pockets and walked away. "'This will do,' cried one of the bailiffs, taking np a big stone as he mounted the ladder, followed by Nick, Hennessy, and the other. " It took some time to smash the locks, for they were both strong ones, and all the while Nick and his friend were talking together in great glee, but poor Bob stood by himself again.st a hay-rick, looking as melanchol}^ as might be. At last the locks gave svay and down went the door with a bang. The baiiill's i-tepped in, and then Nick and the others followed. It took them a couple of minutes to satisfy themselves that the loft was quite empty, but when they came back again to the door, what was their surprise to discover that Bob was carrying away the ladder upon his shoulders to a distant part of the yard. " ' Holloa, major,' cried Basset, ' don't forget us up here.' " 'Devil a fear of that,' said Bob, 'few that know you ever forget you.' " ' We are quite satisfied, sir,' said Hennessy, ' what you said ■was perfectly correct.' JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAX. 253 " ' And why didn't j'on bolioveit beforft. ]\Ir. Henncsi'y? You BCe what 3(ju liavo brouf^dit upon yonrscll.' You are not guiny to leave us up here, sir,' cried Ilcnncssy : ' will you venture upon false imprisonment? ' " ' I'd venture on more llian that, if it were needful ; but seo now, when you get back don't be pretending that 1 didn't oH'er to trt at you well— little as you deserved it. I asked you to dinner, and would have given you your skinful! of wiLc after- wards, but you preferred your own dirty calling, and so take the coiisequences.' " While he was sjieaking a great cheer was hoard, and all the country pcoj.le came galloping into the yard with their turf cars. " ' Ee alive now, my boys,' cried Bob. * How many cars have you ^ ' " ' Seventy, sir, here, but there is more coming.' " 'That'll do,' said he : ' so now set to work and carr}' away all the oats, and the w heat, the hay, barley, and potatoes ; let some of you take the calves and the pigs, and drive the bullocks over the mountain to Llr. Bodkin's ; don't leave a turkey behind you, boys, and make haste, lor these gentlemen have so many engagements 1 can scarcely prevail on them to jiass more than a day or two amongst us.' "Bob pointed as he spoke to the four figures that stood trembling at the hay-loft door. A loud cheer, and a roar of laughter to the full as loud, answered his speech; and at the same moment to it they went, loading their cars with the harvest or the live stock as fast as they could ; to be sure, such a scene was never witnessed — the cows bleating, pigs gruntin", fowls cackling, men and women all running here and there, laughing like mad, and Nick Basset himself swearing like a trooper the whole time that he'd have them all hanged at the next assizes. Would you believe, the harvest it took nearly three weeks to bring home, was carried away that night and scattered all over the country at different farms where it never could be traced, all the cattle too were taken away, and before sunrise there wasn't as much as a sheep or a lamb left to bleat on the lawn. '• The next day Bob set out on a visit to a friend at some distance, leaving directions with his people to liberate the gentlemen in the hay-lol't in the course of the aiternoou. The story made a great noise in the country, but before people were tired laughing at it an action was entered against Bub for false imprisonment, and heavy damages awarded against him : so that you may see there was a kind of poetic justice in the manner of his capture, for after all it was only trick fur trick." The worthy priest now paused to mix another tumbler, which, when he had stirred and tasted and stirred again, he 254 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. pushed gently before him on the table, and seemed lost ia reverie. " Yes,'' said he half aloud, " it is a droll country we live iu, and there's not one of us doesn't waste more ingenuity and display more cunning in getting rid of his fortune than the cleverest fellows elsewhere evince in accumulating theirs. Bat you are looking a little pale, I think : these late hours won't suit you, so I'll just send you to bed." I felt the whole force of my kind friend's advice, and yielding obedience at once, I shook him by the baud and wished him good-night. CHAPTER XXXVI. MURRANAKILTY. If my kind reader is not already tired of the mountain-road and the wild west, may I ask him — dare I say her? — to accompany me a li tie farther, while I present another picture of its life. Yo I see that bold mountain, jagged and nigged in outline, like I he spine of some gigantic beast, that runs tar out into the Atlantic, and ends in a bold, abrupt headland, against which the waves, from the very coast of Labrador, are beating without one intervening rock to break their foi'ce. Carry your eye along ilsbase, to where jou can mark a little clump of alder and 1 eech with here and there a tajser poplar interspersed, and see it you cannot detect the gable of a long, low, thatched house, that lies almost buried in the foliage. Before the door a little patch of green stretches down to the shore, where a ^alldy beach, glowing in all the richness of a morning sun, g.,tters with many a shell and brilliant pebble,-^that, then, is iMurranakilty. But approach, I beg you, a little nearer; h't me suppose that you have traced the winding of that little bay, crossing the wooden bridge over the bright trout stream, as it hastens on to mingle its waters with the ocean ; YOU have climbed over the rude stile, and stopped for an Histant to look into the holy well, in whose glassy surface the little woodfn crucifix al ove is dimly shadowed, and, at length, you stand ujion the lawn before the cottage. What a glcrions scene is now before you ! On the opposite side of the bay, the mountain, who?e summit is lost among the clouds, seems as it were cleft by some earthcjuake's force, and through its JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAX. -J5 narrow i^nrcre you can trace the blue water of the sea jtass- int,' in, wliile each siJe of the valley is clnthcd with wood. The oak of a hundred years, here sheltered from the rude wind of the Atlantic, spreads its luxuriant arms, while the frothy waves are breakinsf at its feet. Iliffh, however, above their tops you may iiiaric the irregular outline of a large biiildinLT, with battlements and towers, and massive walls, and one tall and looj)-holed turret, that rises high into the air, and around whose summit the noisy rooks are circling in their flight. That is Kilmorran Castle, the residence of Sir Simon Bellew. Th;^re, for centuries past, his ancestors were born and died ; there, in the midst of that wild and desolate grandeur, the haughty descendants of an ancient house iived on from youtii to age, surrounded by all the observances of ieudal state, and lording it far and near, for many a mile, wiih a sway and 2)ower that would seem to have long since passed away. You carry your eye seaward, and I i^erceive your attention is fixed upon the small schooner that lies anchored in the offing; her topsail is in the clews, and flaps lazily against the mast, as she.rolls and pitches in the breaking surge. The rake of her low masts, and the long boom that stretches out far beyond her tatfrail, have, you deem it, a somewhat suspicious look ; and you are right. She is La Bdle Louise, a smuggling craft from Dieppe, whose crew, half French, half Irish, would fight her to the gunwale, and sink with, but never surrender her. You hear the plash of oars, and there now you can mark the eight-oared "ig springing to the stroke, as it shoots from the shore, and heads out to sea. — Sir Simon loves claret, and, like a true old Irish gentleman, he drinks it from tlie wood : there may. there- fore, be some reason why those wild-looking red caps have pulled in shore. But now I'll ask you to turn to an humbler scene, and look within that room where the window, opened to the ground, is bordered by blossoming honeysuckle — it is the priest's par- lour. At a little breakfast-table, whose spotless cloth and neat but simple equipage has a look of propriety and comfort, is seated one whose gorgeous dressing-gown and lounging atti- tude seem strangely at variance with the humble objects around him. He seems endeavouring to read a newspaper, ■which, ever and anon, he lays down beside him, and turns his eyes in the direction of the fire. For, although it is July, yet a keen freshness of the morning air makes tlie blazing turf by no means objectionable. He looks towards the fire, perhajis, you would say, lost in his own thoughts and musings ; but no. truth iTiust out, and his attention is occupied in a very dlHVrent wa}'. Kneeling before the fire is a young and lovelv conntry-girl, engaged in toasting a muHin for the priest's breakfast ; her foatures are Hushed, partly with shame, partly with heat; and as now and then i»he throws back her longhair from her face with 256 JACK hnxrO.Y, THE GUARDSMAN. an impatient toss of her head, she steals a glance at the straiicjer, from a pair of eyes so deeply blue that, at lirst, yea were unjust enough to think them black. Her dress is a low bodice, and a short skirt of that brilliant dye the Irish peasant of the west seems to possess the secret for. The jupe is short, I say, and so much the better for you, as it displays a pair of legs which, bare of shoe or stocking, ai-e perfect in their symmetry — the rounded instep and the swelling ankle chiselled as cleanly as a statue of Canova. And now, my good reader, having shown you all this, let me proceed with my narrative. " And sure now, sir, wouldn't it be better for you, and you sickly, to be eating your breakfast, and not be waiting for Father Tom ? — maybe he wouldn't come in this hour yet." "No, thank you, Mary; I had rather wait. I hope you are not so tired of my company that you want an excuse to get away ? " "Ah. be asy now, if you plaze, sir! It's myself that's proud to be talking to you." And as she spoke she turned a pair of blue eyes upon me, with such a look that I could not help thinking if the gentlemen of the west be exposed to such, their blood is not as hot as is reputed. I suppose I looked as much, for she blushed deeply, and, calling out, " Here's Father Tom ! " sprang to hei- legs, and hurried from the room. " 'Where are you scampering that way ? " cried the good priest, as he passed her in the hall. *' Ah, captain !— carptain, behave yourself! '' " I protest, father " cried I. "To be sure you do! — Why wouldn't you protest! But see now, it was your business brought me out this morning. Hand me over the eggs; I am as hungry as a hawk. The devil is in that girl — tht-y are as hard as bullets! I see how it was, plain enough. It's little she was thinking of the same eggs. Well, well! this is an ungrateful world; and only think of me, all I was doing for you." "My dear father, you are quite wrong " " No matter. Another slice of bacon. And, after all, who knows if I have the worst of it? Do you know, now, that JNliss Bellew has about the softest cheek " ■' VVluit the devil do you mean ? " said I, reddening. " Wh}', just that I was saluting her cl la Franqaise this morning; and I never saw her look handsomer in my life. It was scarce seven o'clock when I was over at Kilmorran, but, early as it was, I caught her making breakfast for me, and, father and priest that I am, I couldn't help feeling in love with her. It was a beautiful sight just to watch her light step and grace- ful figure moving about the parlour — now opening the window to let in the fresh uir of the moruing ; now arranging a bouquet yACK JIIXTOX, THE GLAKD6MAA. 257 of moss roses; now busying lierself amonfr tlio breakfast things, and all the while stealing a glance at Sir Simon, to see if ho wore pleased with what she was doing. He'll be over hero by and-by, to call on you; and, indeed, it is an attention ho seldom pays any one, for latterly, poor fellow, he is not over satisfied with the world ; and if the truth were told, he has not had too much cause to be so." " You mentioned to him, then, that I was here ? " " To be sure I did; and the doing so cost me a scalded finger, for Mis.s Louisa, who was pouring out my tea at the moment, gave a jerk with her hand, and spilt the boiling water all over me.— Bad ce.«s to you, Mary. Ijut you've spoiled the toast this morning! half of it never saw the lire, and the other half is as black as my boot. — But, as I was saying, Sir Simou knows all about you, and is coming over to ask us to dine there;— though 1 offered to give tlie invitation myself, and ac'.'e]jt it first ; but he is very punctilious about these things, and wouldn't hear of anything but doing it in tlie regular way." " Did he allude to ]\Ir. Ulick Burke's affair? " " Not a word. And even when I wished to touch on it, for the sake of a little e.vplanation, he adroitly turned the subject, and spoke of something else. But it is drawing late, and I have some people to see this morning, so come along now into my little library here, and I'll leave you for a while to amuse yourself." 'J'hc priest led me, as he spoke, into a small room, whoso walls were covered with books from the Hoor to the ceiling; even the very door by which we entered had its shelves, like the rest, so that when once in, you could see no trace of it. A single window looked seaward, towards the wide Atlantic, and presented a view of many miles of coast, indented with headland and promontory. Beneath, upon the placid sea, was a whole fleet of fishing boats, the crews of which were busily engaged in collecting the sea-weed to manure the land. The sight was both curious and picturesque. The light boats, tossing on the heavy swell, were crowded with figures whose attitude evinced all the eagerness of a chase. Sometimes an amicable contest would arise between two parties, as their boat-hooks were fixed in tli(> same mass of tangled weed. Sometimes two rival crews would be seen stretching upon their oars, as they headed out to sea, in search of a new prize : the merry voices, and the loud laughter, however, that rose above all other sounds, told that good humour and good will never deserted them in all the ardour of the contest. Long after the priest left mo, I continued to watch them. At last I set myself to explore the good father's shelves, which \ found, for the most part, were filled with portly tomes of divinity and polemics, huge folio copies of St. Augustine, Urigen, Euse- 258 JACK H INI OX, THE GUARDSMAN. bins, and others; innumerable volumes of learned tractates oil ilispLited points iu theology; none of which possessed any interest for me. In one corner, however, beside the fire, whose convenience to the habitual seat of Father Tom argued that they were not least in favour with his reverence, was an admirable collection of the French dramatists, Moliere, Beaumarchais, Eacine, and several more; these were a real treat; and seating myself beside the window, I prepared, for about the twentieth time in my life, to read " La FoUe Journee." I had scarcely got to the end of the second act, when the door was gently opened, and Mary made her appearance ; not in the dishabille of the morning, however, but with a trim cotton gown, and smart shoes and stockings ; her hair, too, was neatly dressed, in the country fashion ; yet still I was more than half disposed to think she looked even better in her morning costume. The critical scrutiny of my glance had evidently disconcerted her, and made her, for the moment, forget the object of her coming. She looked down and blushed ; she fiddled with the corner of her apron, and at last, recollecting herself, she dropped a little curtesy, and, opening the door wide, announced Sir Simon Bellew. "Mr. Hinton, I believe," said Sir Simon, with a slight smile, as he bowed himself into the apartment; " will you allow me to introduce myself — Sir Simon Bellew." The baronet was a tall, thin, meagre-looking old man, some- what stooped by age, but preserving, both in look and gesture, not only the remains of good looks, but the evident traces of one habituated to the world. His dress was very plain, but the scrupulous exactitude of his powdered cue, and the massive gold-headed cane he carried, showed he had not abandoned those marks of his position, so distinctive of rank in those days. He wore, also, large and handsome buckles in his shoes, but, in every other particular, his costume was simplicity itself Conversing with an ease which evinced his acquaintance with all the forms of society, he touched shortly upon my former acquaintance with his daughter, and acknowledged in terms slight, but suitable, how she had spoken of me. His manner was, however, less marked by everything I had deemed to be Irish than that of any other person I had met with in the country ; for, while he expressed his pleasure at my visit to the west, and invited me to pass some days at his house, his manner of doing so had nothing whatever of the warmth and em/presse- ment I had so often seen. In fact, save a slight difference in accent, it was as English as need be. Whether I felt disappointed at this, or whether I had, myself, adoj5ted the habits and prejudices of the land, I am unable to say, but certainly I felt chilled and repulsed ; and, although JACK JJIXTOX, THE GUAA'DSALLV. 255 our interview scarce lasted twenty minutes, was delighted when he rose to take his leave, and say, Uood morning. " You are good enough, then, to promise you'll dine with us to-morrow, Mr. Hinton. 1 need scarcely remark, I can have no party to meet you, tor this wild neigliljijurliood has denied us tliiit ; but as 1 am aware that your visit to the west is less for .society than scenery, perhaps 1 may assure you, you will not be disappointed. So now, au revoir." Sir »Sinioii bowed dee[)ly as he spoke, and, with u wave of his hat tliat would havn done honour to the court of Louis XV^. he took his leave ai.d departed. 1 followed him with my eye, as mounted on his old grey pony, he ambled quietly down the little path that led to the shore. Albeit an old man, his seat was firm, and not without a certain air of belf-possession and ease; and as he returned the saluta- tions of the passing country people, he did so with the quiet dignity of one who felt he conveyed an honour even in the recognition. Tliere was something singular in the contrast of that venerable figure with the wild grandeur of the scene ; and as I gazed after him, it set me thinking on the strange vicissitudes of life that must have made such as he pass his duya in tho dreary solitude of these mountains. CHAPTER XXXVII. SIR SIMON. Mv journey had so far fatigued me that I wasn't sorry to have a day of rest; and, as Father Tom spent the greater part of it from home, I was left to myself and my own rellections. The situation in which I found myself was singular enough — the guest of a man who.se acquaintance I had made by chance, and who, knowing as little of me as I did of him, yet showed by many an act of kindness, not less than by many a chance observation, a deep interest in myself and my fortunes. Here, then, I was; far from the sphere of my duties, neglecting the career I had adopted, and suffering days — weeks, to pass oyer without bestowing a thought upon my soldier's life Following on this train of tlionght, 1 could not ludp acknowledging to myself that my attachment to Miss Bellew was the cause of my journey, and the real reason of my wandering. However Bunguiue may be the heart when toucbed by the hrst passion. 26o JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. the doubts that will now and then shoot across it are painful and poignant; and now, m the calmness of my judgment, I could not but see the innumerable obstacles my family would raise to all my liopes. I well knew my lather's predilection for a campaigning life, and that nothing would compensate to him for the defeat of this expectation : I had but too many proofs of ray mother's aristocratic prejudices to suppose that she ever could acknowledge as her daughter-in-law one whose preten- sions to rank, although higher than her own, were yet neither trumpeted by .the world nor blazoned by fashion ; aad lastly, changed as I was myself since my arrival in Ireland, there was yet enough of the Englishman left in nie to see how unsuited was Louisa Bellew, in many respects, to be launched forth in the torrent of London life, whde yet her experience of the world was so narrow and limited. Still, I loved her. The very artless simplicity of her manner, the untutored freshness of her mind had taught me to know, that even great personal attractions may be the second excellence of a woman. And besides, I was just at that time of life whea ambition is least natural. One deems it more heroic to renounce all that is daring in enterprise, all that is great in promise, merely to be loved. My mind was thereibre made up. The present oppor- tunity was a good one to see her frequently and learn thoroughly to know her tastes and her dispositions. Should I succeed in gaining her affections, however opposed my family might prove at first, I calculated on their fondness for me. as an only son, and knew that, in regard to fortune, I should be independent enough to marry whom I pleased. In speculations such as these the time passed over ; and although 1 waited with impatience for the hour of our visit to Kilmorran Castle, still, as the time drew near, many a passing dcubt would Hit across me, how far I had mistaken the promptings of my own affection for any return of my love. True it was, that more than once her look and manner testified I was not Indifferent to her ; still, when I remembered that I liad ever seen her surrounded bj'' persons she was anxious to avoid, a suspicion crossed me, that perhaps I owed the litth; preference she showed me, less to any qualiiies I possessed, than to my own unobtrusiveness. These were galling and unplr.asanti reflections; and whither they might have led me I know not. when the priest tapped with his knuckles at my window, and called out — " Captain, we shall be late if you don't hurry a bit ; and I had rather be behind time with his gracious majesty himself than with old Sir Simon." I opened the window at once, and jumped out into the lawn. " My dear father, I've been ready this half hour, but fell into a dreamy fit and forgot everything. Are we to walk it?" JACK IIINTON jrilE GVARDSMAN. 261 " No, no ; the distance is much grcattT than you think. Sir all as the bay looks, it is a ^ood tlinc uiiles from this to Kdmoiran ; Imt here (;oiiies yuur old friend tiie ciirriculus." i once mure monuted to my old seat, and the priest, guidinp tlie horse down to the boach, selected the htrand, from which the waves had just rei:eded. as the hardest road, and pressed ou at a pace that sliowed his desire to be punctual. "Get along there! Nabocklish ! How lazy the devil is ! — faith, we'll be late, do our best. Captain, dailinp, put your watch back a quarter of an hour, and I'll ttand to it that we are both by Dubiiti tinif." " Is he, then, so very \ articular," said I, " as all that comes to ? " •' Particular, is it? Faith he is. Why, man, there is as much ringing of bells before dinner in that house, as if every room in it was crammed with companj'. And the old butler will be there, all in black, and his hair jtowdered, and beantil'ul silk- stockmps on his legs, every day in the week, although, maybe, it is a bnice of snipe will be all that is on the table. 'I'ake the whip for a while, and lay into that baste, — my heart is broke Hogginc- him." Had Sir Simon only watched the good priest's exertions fur the preceding quarter of an hour, he certainly would iiave had a hard heart, if he had criticized his punctuality. Shouting one moment— cursing the next — thrashing away with his whip, and belime^^ striding over the sjilash-board to give a kick with his foot, he undoubtedly spared nothing in cither voice or gesture. "There! — glory be to God!" cried he at last, as he turned sharp from the shady road into a narrow avenue of tall lime- trees; " take the reins, captain, till I wipe my i'ace. Blessed hour, look at the state I am in ! Lift him to it, and don't spare him. ]\Iay I never,— if that isn't the last bell, and he only gives five minutes after that." Although I certainly should have preferred that Father Tom had continued his functions as charioteer, now that we were approaching the house, common humaiiity however compelled me to spare him, and I flogged and chucked the old beast with all my might up the rising ground towards, the hcuse. I had but just time to see that the building before us was a large embattled structure, which, although irregular, and occasionally incongruous in detail, was yet a fine specimen ot the castellated Gothic of the seventeenth century. ]\lassivo square towers flanked the angles, themselves surmounted by Hualler turrets, that shot np into the air high al>ove the dark woods around them. The whole was surround, d by a fosse, now dry, and overgrown with weeds; but the terrace, which lay between this and the castle, was laid out as a lluwer garden, 262 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. with a degree of taste and beauty that, to my mind at least, bespoke the fostering hand of Louisa Bellew. Upon this tlie windows of a large drawing-room opened, at one of which I could marlc the tall and stately figure of Sir Simon, as he stood, watch in hand, awaiting our arrival. I confess, it was not without a sense of shame that I continued ray flagellations at the moment. Under any circumstances, our turn-out was not quite unexceptionable ; but, when I thought of my own position, and of the good priest who sat beside me, mopping his head and face with a huge red cotton handkerchief, I cursed my stars for the absurd exposure. Just at this instant the skirt of a white robe passed one of the windows, and I thought — I hope it was but a thought — I heard a sound of laughter. "There — that will do. Phoebus himself couldn't do it better. I wouldn't wish my worst enemy to be in a pair of shalts before you." Aluttering a curse on the confounded beast, I pulled short up and sprung out. " Not late, Nicholas, I hope ? " said the priest to a tall, thin, old butler, who bore a most absurd resemblance to his master. " Your reverence has a minute and a half yet; but the soup's on the table." As he spoke, he drew from his pocket a small bit of looking-glass, in a wooden frame, and, with a pocket-comb arranged his hair in the most orderly and decorous manner; which being done, he turned gravely round and said: — " Are ye ready, now, gentlemen?" The priest nodded, and forward we went. Passing through a suite of rooms whose furniture, however handsome once, was now wormeaten and injured by time, we at length reached the d-or of the drawing-room, when the butler, after throwing one more glance at us, to assure himself that we were in ])resentable array, thing the door wide open, and announced, with the voice of a king-at-arms — "The Reverend Father Loftus and Mr. Hinton." "Serve!" said Sir Simon, with a wave of his hand. While, advancing towards us, he received us with most polished courtesy. "You are n-iOst welcome to Kilmorran, Mr. Hinton. I need not present my daughter." He turned towards the priest, and the same moment I held Miss Bellew's hand in mine. Dressed in white, and with her hair plainly braided on her cheek, I thought she looked hand- somer than I had ever seen her. There was au air of assured calmness in her manner, that sat well upon her lovely features, as, with a tone of winning sweetness, she seconded the words of her father, and welcomed me to Kilmorran. The first step in the knowledge of the female heart is, to know how to interpret any constraint or reserve of manner yACK IllNTON, THE GVARDSMA.\. 263 on tlie part of the woman you are in love witli. Your rnrro novice is never more tempted to despair than at the precise moment his hopes should grow stronger ; nor is he ever bo sanguine as when the prospect is gloomy hefore him. The quirk percei)tioti3 of even a very young girl enable her to perceive when she is loved; and however disposed she may fet-l towards the individual, a certain mixture of womanly pride and coquetry will teach her a kind of reserve towards him. Now, there was a blight clash of this constrained tone througii !Miss IJellfcw's manner to me, and little experience as I had had in such matters, I knew enough to augur favourably from it. While doing the honours of her house, a passing timiility would seem, every now and then, to check her advances, and I could remark how carefully she avoided any allusion, however slight, to our past acquaintance. The austerity of Sir Simon's manner, at his first visit, as well as the remarks of my friend the priest, had Ird me to susjiect that our dinner-party would prove cold, formal, and uncomldrt- able. Indeed, the baronet's constrained and measured courtesy in the drawing-room, gave me but little encouragement to expect anything better. Most agreeable, therefore, was my dis;i])puint- ment to find, that before the soup was removed he had thawed considerably. The stern wriidcles of his haughty face relaxed, and a bland and good-humoured smile had usurped the i)Iace of his former fixed and determined look. Doing the honours of his table with the most perfect tact, he contrived, while almost monopolizing the conversation, to appear the least obtrusive amongst ns; his remarks being ever accompanied by some appeal to his daughter, the priest, or myself, seemed to link us in the interest of all he said, and make his very listeners deem themselves entertaining and agreeable. Unfortunately, I can present but a very meagre picture of this happy gift, but I remember well how insensibly my pre- judices gave way, one by one, as I listened to his anecdotes, and heard him recount, with admirable humour, many a story of his early career. To be sure, it may be said that mj' criticism was not likely to be severe, while seated beside his beautiful daughter, whose cheek glowed with pleasure, and whose bright eye glistened with added lustre as she remarked the impression her father's agreeabilit}^ was making on liis guests. Such may, I doubt not, have increased the delight I leh; but Sir Simon's own claims were still indisputable. I know not how far I shall meet my reader's concurrence in the remark, but it appears to me that conversational talent, like wine, requires age to make it mellow. The racy ilavour that smacks of long knowledge of life — the reflective tone that deepens without darkening the picture — the freedom from exaggeration, either in praise or censure, are not the gifts of 264 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. young men usually; and certainly they do season the inter- course of older ones, greatly to its advantage. There is, more- over, a pleasant flattery in listening to the narratives of those who were mixing with the busyworld — its intrigues, its battles, and its by-play, while we were but boys. How we like to hear of the sosial everyday life of those great men of a by-gone day, whose names have become already historical — what a charm does it lend to reminiscence, when the names of Burke, Sheridan, Grattan, and Curran, start up amid memories of youthful pleasure — and how we treasure every passing word that is transmitted to us, and how much, in spite of all the glorious successes of their after days, do we picture them to ourselves, from some slight or shadowy trait of their school or college life! Sir Simon Bellew's conversation abounded in features of this kind. His career had begun and continued for a long time, in the brightest period of Ireland's history ; when wealth and genius were rife in the land — and when the joyous traits of Irish character were elicited in all their force, by prosperity and happiness. It was then shone forth in all their brilliancy, the great spirits, whose flashing wit and glittering fancy have cast a sunlight over their native country, that even now, in the twi- light of the past, continues to illumine it. Alas ! they have had no heritors to their fame — they have left no successors be- hind them. I have said that Miss Bellew listened with delight to all her father's stores of amusement — happy to see him once more aroused to the exertion of his abilities — and pleased to watch how successfully his manner had won over us. Witii what added loveliness she looked up to him, as he narrated some circumstances of his political career, where his importance with his party was briefly alluded to; and how proudly her features glowed, as some passing sentiment of high and simple patriotism would break from him ! At such moments, the resemblance be- tween them both became remarkably striking, and I deemed Iv^r even more beautiful, than when her face wore its habitual calm and peaceful expression. Father Loftus himself seemed also to have undergone a change; no longer indulging in his accustomed free-and-easy manner, seasoning his conversation with droll allusions and sly jokes; he now appeared a shrewd, intelligent reasoner — a well- informed man of the world; and, at times, evidenced traits of reading and scholarship I was nowise prepared for. But how vain is it for one of any other country to fathom one-half the depth of Irish character, or say what part is inapplicable to an Irishman ? My own conviction is, that we arc all mistaken in our estimate of them — that the gay and reckless spirit, the wild fun, and frantic, impetuous devilment, are their least remark- able features, and in fact only the outside emblem of the stirring nature within. Like the lightning, that flashes over the JACK n/iXTOiY, THE GUARDSMAN. 265 thunder-cloiul, but neither influences the breaking of the storm, nor j)oints to its cuurKC — so have I seen the jest break from lipH palo with hiiiigcr, and heard the hmgh come I'loe and mellow when the liearl was breaking in misery- -but what u mockery of niirLli ! Wiien we retired to the drawing-roou', .Sir Simon, wlio had somethintT to communicate to Father Tom, took him apart into one of the deep window recesses, and I was left fi>r tlie first time alone beside IMiss Bellew. There was somethiiif^ of awk- wardness in tile situation, for as neither of us could allude to the past without evoking recollections we both shnniied to touch on, we knew not well of what to speak. Tlie window lay open to the ground, displaying before ns a garden in all the richness of fruit and blossom — the clustering hone3'suckle and the dog- rose hung in masses of flower across the casement — and the graceful hyacinth and the deep carnation were bendirg to the night air, .scented with the odour of many a flower. 1 looked w-stfully withont — she canght my glance — a slight hesitation followed — and then, as if assuming more courage, she said — " Are you fond of a garden ? — would you like to walk.^" The haste with which I caught at the i)roposal half discon- certed her ; but, witii a slight smile, she stepped out into the walk. JIowI do like a large, old-fashioned garden, with its venerable fruit-trees — its .shady alleys — its overgrown and tangled beds, in which the very luxuriance sets all effort of art at defiance, and where rank growth speaks of wildnccs rather than culture. I like those grassy walks, where the footstep falls nnluard — those shady thickets of nut-trees, which the blackbird haunts in security, and where the thrush sings undisturbed — what a sense of quiet home happiness there breathes in-the leafy darkness of the spot, and how meet for reverie and reflection does it seem! As i sauntered along beside my companion, these thoughts crowded on me. Neither spoke — but her arm was in mine — our footsteps moved in unison — our eyes followed the same objects, and 1 felt as though our hearts beat respousively. On turning from one of the darker walks, we suddenly came upon an elevated spot, from which, through an opening in the wood, the coast came into view, broken into many a rocky promontory, and dotted with small islands. The sea was calm and waveless, and stretched away towards the horizon in one mass of un- broken blue, whore it blended with the sky. An e.xelamation of " How beautiful ! " broke from me at once; and as I turned to- wards Louisa, I perceived that her eyes sparkled with pileasuro, and a half blush was mantling her cheek. " You are not, then, disappointed with the wcs' ? " said she, with animation. "No, no. I did not look for anythhig like this; nor," added 266 JACK HLXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. I, in a lower tone, while the words trembled on my lips, " did I hope to enjoy it thus." She seemed slightly confused, but, with woman's readiness to turn the meaning of my speech, added — " Your recovery from illness doubtless gives a heightened pleasure to everything like this — the dark hour of sickness is often needed to teach us to feel strongly as we ought the beauty of the fair world we live in." " It may be so — but still I tind that every sorrow leaves a scar upon the heart, and he who has mourned much loses the zest lor happiness." " Or rather, his views of it are different — I speak, happily for me, in ignorance; yet it seems as though eveiy trial in life was a preparation for some higher scale of blissful enjoyment; and that as our understandings mature in power, so do our hearts in goodness — chastening at each ordeal of life, till, at the last, the final sorrow, death, bids us prepare for the eternity where there is no longer grief, and wliere the weary are at rest." " Is not your view of life rather derived from the happy experience of this quiet spot than suited for the collisions of the world ; where, as men grow older, their consciences grow more seared — their hearts less open." " Perhaj^s — but is not my philosophy a good one that fits me for my station ? — ray life has been cast here; I have no wish to leave it — I hope I never shall." " Never ! Surely you would like to see other countries — to travel ? " " No, no. All the brilliant pleasures you can picture for me would never requite the fears I must suffer, lest these objects should grow less dear to me when I came back to them. The Tyrol is doubtless grander in its wild magnificence; but can it ever come home to my heart with so many affections and memories as these bold cliffs I have gazed on in my infancy ; or should I benefit iu happiness if it were? Can your Swiss peasant, be his costume ever so picturesque, interest me one-half so much as yonder poor fisherman, who is carrying up his little child iu his arms from the beach ? I know him — his home — his hearth ; I have seen his grateful smile for some small benefit, and heard his words of thankfulness ; and think you not that sucli recollections as these are all mingled in every glance I throw around me, and that every sun-lit spot of landscape shines not more brightly iu my heart for its human associations? These maybe narrow prejudices 1 see you smile at me." *' No, no. Trust me, 1 do not undervalue your reasons." "Well, here comes Father Loftus, and he shall be judge be- tween us. We were discussing the advantages of contrasting our home with other countries " '' Ahem ! A very difficult point," said the priest, interrupting JACK JIINTOX, THE GUARDS MAX. 267 her, and drawing himself up with a preat air of judicial iin- Iiortiince. " Ubi bene, ibi falria : wliicli may be rendered, ' there's potatoes everywhere.' Not that 1 incline to the doctrino nivself: Ireland is the only enjoyable country 1 know of. f'tauitiy rrt'ntiira, tlnni jiotniKniHK : ibat means 'a niodiTute iiseot creature comforts,' Miss Louisa. But, troth, I'm so heated with an arfTnment 1 had with Sir Simon, that I'm no ways competent — (lid I tell you he was waitint^ for his tea? " " No, indeed you did not," said Miss Bellew, giving vent to a lauifh she had been strugtjling against for the last few minutes; and which 1 did not at the iiiometit know was caused by her perceiving the priego s air of cliagrin and discontent, the evident ])roofs of his being worsted by the old baronet, whose chief jileasure in life was to worry the father into a discussion, and either confuse or confute him. *' My father seems in such good spirits to-night. Don't you think so?" said she roguishly, looking over at the priest. "Never saw him better; quite lively and animated, and" — dropping his voice to a whisper — "as obstinate as ever." As we entered the house, we found Sir Simon walking leisurely up and down the drawing room, with his hands beliind his back, his face radiant with smiles, and his eye gleaming with conscious triumph towards the corner where the ])rie8t sto(Kl tumbling over some books to conceal his sense of defeat. In a few minutes after we were seated round the tea table, the little cloud was dispelled, and a happier party it were difficult to imagine. CHAPTER XXXVIII. ST. sknan's weu.. ITow shall I trace this, the happiest period of my life ! when days and weeks rolled on, and Icil no track behind, save in tliiit delicious calm that stole over my senses gradually and imper- ceptibly. Each morning saw me on my way to Castle Uellew : the mountain-path that led up from the little strand was well worn by my footsteps— I knew its every turn and winding; scarcely a dog-rose bloomed along the way with which I had not grown familiar. And how each ol>jcct spoke to my heart! — i'or I was happy ! The clouds that moved above ; the' rippling tide that flowed beneath; the sunny shore; the shady thicket; 26S JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. — were all to me as thougli I had known them from boyhood. For so it is, in our glad moments we cling to all things that surround us; and giving to external nature Ihc high colouring of our own hearts, we feel how beautiful is this world ! Yet was ray mind not all tranquil: for often, as I hastened on, some passing thought would shoot across me. Where is this to end ? Can I hope ever to overcome the deep-rooted prejudices of my family, and induce them to receive amongst them as my wife, the beautiful and artless daughter of the wild west .P or could I dare to expose her, on whom all my affections were centred, to the callous criticism of my fine lady-mother, and her fashion- ^able friends in London ? What right have I to stake her hap- *piness on such a chance;— to take her from all the objects en- deared to her by taste, by time, by long-hallowed associations, and place her amid those among whom the very charm of her untarnished nature would have made her their inferior? Is it that trait of rebellious spirit, that would seem to leaven every portion of our nature, which makes our love strongest when some powerful barrier has been opposed to our hopes and wishes? or is it rather, that in the difficulties and trials of life, we discover those deeper resources of our hearts, that under happier auspices had lain dormant and unknown ? 1 scarcely know: but true it is, after such reflections as these, I ever hurried on the faster to meet her, more resolutely bent than* ever, in weal or woe, to link my fortune with her own. Though I returned each night to the priest's cottage, my days were entirely spent at Castle Bellew. How well do I remember every little incident that marked their tranquil course! The small breakfast-parlour, with its old Tudor window looking out upon the flower-garden : how often have I paced it, impatient for her coming; turning ever and anon to the opening door, when the old butler, with the invariable habitude of his kind, continually appeared with some portion of the breakflist equi- page : how I started, as some distant door would shut or open — some far-off footstep on the stair; and wonder within myself, why felt she not some of this impatient longing. And when, at last, tortured with anxiety and disappointment, I had turned away towards the window, the gentle step, the rustling dress, and, more than all. the indescribable something that tells us we are near those we love, bespoke her coming — oh ! the transport of that moment ! With what a fervid glow of pleasure I sprang to meet her— to touch her hand — to look upon her! How rapidly, too, T endeavoured to speak my h^ words of greeting, lest her father's coming might interfere with even this short- lived period of hapjjiness ; and, after all, how little meaning were the words themselves, save in the tone I spoke them ! Then followed our rambles through the large but neglected garden, where the rich- blossoming fruit-tree scented the air, JACK' IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 269 loailcil witli all the fracjrance of many a wilj flower. Now strolling onwarJa— silent, but full of thought, we trod some dark and shaded alley ; now entering upon some open glade, where a view of the far-off mountains would break upon us, or where some chance vista showed the deep blue sunny sea swelling with sullen roar against the rocky coast. How often, at such times as these, have I asked myself if I could look for greater happiness than thus to ramble on. turning from the stupendous majesty of Nature, to look into her eyes whose glance met rame so full of tender meaning; while words would pass between us, few and low-voiced, but all so thrilling — their very accents spoke of lot^e. Yet, amid all this, some agonizing doubt would shoot across me, that my affection was not returned ; the very frankness other nature made rae fear; and when we parted at night, and I held my homeward way towards the priest's cottage. 1 would stop from time to time, conning over every word she spoke, calling to mind each trivial circumstance; and if by accident some passing word of jest — some look of raillery, recurred to my memory, how have the warm tears rushed to my eyes, as with my heart full of bursting, I muttered to myself, " She loves me not! " These fears would then give way to hope, as in my mind's eye she stood before me, all beaming iu smiles : and amid these alternate emotions, I trod my lonely path, longing for the morrow, when we should meet again, when I vowed within my heart to end my life of doubt by asking if she loved me. But with that morrow came the same spell of ha])piucss that lulled me ; and liky the gambler who had set his life upon the die, and durst not throw, so did I turn with trembling fear from tempting the chance ihut might in a moment dispel the bright dream of my existence, and leave life bleak and barren to me for ever. The month of August was drawing to a close, as we sauntered one fine evening towards the sea-shore. There was a little path which wound round the side of a bold crag, partly by steps — partly by a kind of sloping way, defended at the sides by a rude wooden railing, which led down upon the beach exactly at the spot where a well of clear spring water sprang up, and tracked its tiny stream into the blue ocean. This little spring, which was! always covered by the sea at high water, was restored, on the tide ebbing, to its former purity, aud l>ubbled away as before ; and from this cause had obtained from the simple peas- antry the reputation of being miraculous, and was believed to possess iniminerable properties of healing and consoling. I had often heard of it, but never visited it before; and thither we now bent our steps, more intent upon catching the glorious sunset that was glowing on the Atlantic, than of test- infr the virtues of St. Senau's well— for so was it called. The -an autumnal one — was calm and still ; not a leat U 2;o JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. stirred; the very birds were hushed; and there was all that solemn silence that sometimes threatens the outbreak of a storm. As we descended the crag, however, the deep booming of the sea broke upon us, and between the foliage of the oak-trees we could mark the heavy rolling of the mighty tide, as ■wave after wave swelled on, and then was dashed in foam and spray upon the shore. There was something peculiarly grand and almost super- natural in the heavy swell of the great sea, rearing its white crest afar, and thundering along the weather-beaten rocks, when \ everything else was calm and unmoved around : the deep and solemn roar, echoing from many a rocky cavern, rose amid the crashing spray that sent up a thin veil of mist, through which the setting sun was reflected in many a bright rainbow. It was indeed a glorious sight ! and we stopped for several minutes gazing on it ; when suddenly Louisa, letting go my arm, ex- claimed, as she pointed downwards — "See! See the swell beneath that large black rock yonder; the tide is making fast; we must get quickly down, if you wish to test St. Senan's power." I had no time left me to ask what peculiar virtues the saint dispensed through the mediation of his well, when she broke from my side, and hurried down the steep descent : in a moment we had reached the shore, upon which already the tide was fast encroaching, and had marked with its dark stain the yellow sand within a few feet of the well. As we drew nearer, I perceived the figure of an old woman, bent with age, who seemed busily occupied sprinkling the water of the spring over something that, as I came closer, seemed like a sailor's jacket. She was repeating some words rapidly to herself; but on hear- inar our approach, she quickly collected her bundle together under her remnant of a cloak, and sat waiting our aj^proach in silence. " It's Molly Ban ! " said Louisa suddenly, and growing pale as she spoke. "Give her something — if you have any money, — I beseech you." There was no opportunity for inquiring further about her now : for the old woman slowly rose from the stone, by the aid of a stick, and stood confronting us. Her figure was singularly short— scarce four feet in height; biit her head was enormously large, and her features, which were almost terrific in ugliness, were swarthy as a gipsy's ; a man's hat was fastened upon her head by a red kerchief, which was knotted beneath her chin ; a short cloak of faded scarlet, like what the peasantry of the west usually wear, covered her shoulders; beneath which a patched and many-coloured petticoat appeared, that reached to the middle of her legs, which, as well as her feet, were com- pletely naked — giving a look of wildness and poverty in one so old I cannot attempt to convey. /D<7i^.y^6^i4m^ o'/^i^,. JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAX. 271 The most sinfTular part of her costiimp. liowover, was a rndo collar she wore round her lU'ck of sea-shells— aniDiip wliich, hero and there, I couM detect some bits of painted and gilded carvitij,', like fratrnients of a wreck. This stranj^e apparition now stood opposite me, her dark eyes fixed steadily on my companion, to wliom, unlike the ]ieople of the country, she never made the sli^'htest reverence, or showed any semblance of respect. " And was it to spy after me, Miss Loo, ye brought down yor sweetheart to the well this evening."" said the hag, in a harsh, gratmg voice, that seemed the very last effort of Home sup- pressed ]iassion. Louisa's arm grasped mine, and I could feel it tremble with agitation as she whispered in my ear — " Give her money quickly ; I know her." " And is your father going to send me back to gaol because the cattle's got the rot amongst them ? ha, ha, ha ! " said she, breaking into a wild, discordant laugh. " There 'ill be more mourning than for that, at Castle J3ellew, before long." Louisa leaned against me, faint and almost falling, while, drawing out my purse hastily, I held forth my liand full of silver. The old hag clutched at it eagerly, and, as her dark eyes flashed fire, she thrust the money into a pocket at her side, and again broke out into a horrid laugh. " So, you're beginnui' to know me, are ye ? Ye won't mock Molly Ban now — eh? no, faith, nor I\Iary LafTerty either, that turned me from the door and shut it agin me. Where 'ill lier pride be to-morrow night, when they bring in her husband a corpse to her? Look at that." With these words she threw her cloak on one side, and showed the blue jacket of a fisherman which I had seen her sprinkling with the water as we came up. ''The blue water will be his windhig-sheet this night, calm as it is now." " Oh, Afolly dear, don't speak this way ! " . " Molly dear !" echoed the beldame, in an accent of biting derision. " Who ever heerd one of your name call me that ? or are ye come for a charm for that young man beside you ? See now; the sun's just gone; in amiiiit more the sea 'ill be in, and it 'ill be too late. Here, come near me — kneel down there — • kneel down, I say ; or is it only my curse ye mind? " " She's mad, poor thing," said T, in ray companion's car. " Let her have her way — do as she bids you." Sinking with terror, pale as death, and trembling all over, Louisa bent one knee upon the little rock beside thf well, while the old hag took her fair hand within her own skinny tinger.s and plunged it rudely in the well. "There, drink," said she, offering me the fair palm, through 272 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. which the clear water was running rapidly, while she chanted rather than spoke the rude rhyme that follows, — " By the setting sun, The flowing sea. The waters that run, I swear to thee That my faith shall be true, at this moment now, In weal or in woe, wherever, or how : So help me, St. Senan, to keep my vow." The last words had scarcely been uttered when Louisa, who apparently had been too much overcome by terror to hear one word the hag had muttered, sprang up from the stone, her face and neck covered with a deep blush, her lip trembling with agitation, while her eyes were fixedly directed towards the old woman with an expression of haughty anger. " Ay, ye may look as proud as ye like. It's little I mind ye, in love or in hate. Ye are well humbled enough now. And as for you," said she, turning towards me a look of scornful jjity — " you, I wish ye joy of your fair sweetheart — let her only keep her troth like her own mother, and ye'U have a happy heart to sit at yer fireside with." I'he blood fled from Louisa's cheek as she said this — a deadly paleness spread over her features — her lips were bloodless and parted — and her hands firmly clenched together and pressed against her side, bespoke the agony of the moment. It lasted not longer; for she fell back fainting and insensible into my arms. I bathed her face and temples from the well — I called upon her — rubbed her hands within my own, and endeavoured by every means to arouse her,, but in vain. I turned to beg for aid from tlie woman, but she was gone. I again endeavoured to awake her from her stupor, but she lay cold, rigid, and motion- less — her features had stiffened like a corpse, and showed no touch of life. I shouted aloud for aid ; but, alas ! we were far from all human habitations, and the wild cries of the curlew were the only sounds that met my ear, or the deep rushing of the sea, as it broke nearer and nearer to where I stood. A sudden pang of horror shot across me as I looked around and below, and saw no chance of aid from any quarter. Already the sun was below the horizon, and the grey twilight gave but gloomy indications all around — the sea, too, was making fast, the foam had reached us, and even now the salt tide had mingled its water with the little spring. No more time was to be lost. A projecting point of rock intervened between xis and the little path by which we had descended to the beach, over this the spray was now splashing, and its base was only to be seen at intervals between the advancing or retiring wave. A low, ■wailing sound, like distant wind, was creeping over the water. JACK iriNTON, TJIE GCARDSAfAy. 273 wliicli from time to time was curled along the roiind-backeJ wave witli all the threatening aspeei of a coining btorni — the sea birds wheeled round in circles, waking the echoes with their wild notes — and the heavy swell hall-door: my next, to break the seal of the letter which 1 held in my hand, and see if its contents might not throw some light upon the events which somehow 1 felt were thickening around me, but of whose nature and import I knew nothing. The address was written in a stiff, old-fashioned hand, but the large seal bore the arms of the Bellow family, and left no doubt upon my mind that it had come from Sir Simon. I 282 JACK HINTON, 7 HE GuATWSMAN. opened it with a trembling and throbbing heart, and read as follows, — "My dear Sir— The event of last night has called back ■upon a failing and broken memory, the darkest hour of a long and blighted life, and made the old man, whose steadfast gaze looked onward to the tomb, turn once backward to beliold the deepest afHiction of his days,— misfortune, crime, remorse. I cannot, even now, while already the very shadow of death is on me, recount the sad story 1 allude to; enough tor the object I have in view if I say, that where I once owed the life of one 1 held dearest in life, the hand that saved lived to steal, and the voice that blessed me was perjured and forsworn,— since that hour I have never received a service of a fellow-mortal, until the hour when you rescued my child. And oh ! loving her as I do, — wrapt up as my soul is in her image, I could have borne better to see her cold and dripping corse laid down beside me, than to behold her, as I have done, in your arms. You must never meet more. The dreadful anticipation of long-suffering years is creeping stronger and stronger upon me; and I feel in my inmost heart, that I am reserved for another and a last bereavement ere I die. " We shall have left before this letter reaches you. You may, perhaps hear the place of our refuge, — for such it is,— - but I trust that to your feelings as a gentleman and a man of honour I can appeal, in the certam confidence that you will not abuse my faith — you will not follow us. "I know not what I have written,— nor dare I read it again. Already my tears have dimmed my eyes, and are falling on the paper, so let me bid you farewell— an eternal farewell. My nephew has arrived here. 1 have not seen him, nor shall I; but he will forward this letter to you after our departure. " Yours, " S. Bellew." The first stunning feeling past, I looked round me to see if it were not some horrid dream, and the whole events but the frightful deception of a sleeping fancy. But bit by bit the entire truth broke upon me — the full tiaved court, and I now saw that it came from the kitchen. 1 drew near the window in silence, and looked in ; before the large turf tire were seated three persons — two of them, who sat in the shining light I at once recognised as the ser- vants, but the third was concealed in the shadow of the chim- ney, and I could only trace the outline of his tigure against the blaze; I was not long, however, in doubt as to his identity. " Seemingly then you're a great traveller,'' said Patsey, the priest's man. addressing the unknown. A long whiti' of smoke, iiatiently emitted, and a polite wave of the hand in assent, was the reply. 284 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " And how far did you come to-day, av I might be so bould? " said Mary. " From the cross of Kilterraon, beyond Gurtmore, my dar- ling ! and sure it is a real pleasure and a delight to come so far \o see as pretty a crayture as yourself" — here Patsey looked a little put out, and Mary gave a half smile of encouragement — " for," continued the other, breaking into a song — " Though I love a fox in a cover to find, When the clouds is low, with a sou-west wind, Faix, a pretty girl is more to my mind Than the tally-highho of a morning." I need scarcely say that the finale of this rude verse was given in a way that only Tipperary Joe could accomplish, as he continued — "And just show me one with an instep high, A saucy look, and a roguish eye, Who'd smile ten tiroes for once she'd sigh, And I'm her slave till morning." " And that's yoursel', devil a less — ye ho, ye ho, tallyho— I hope the family isn't in bed." " Troth, seemingly," said Patsey, in a tone of evident pique, " it would distress you little av they were: you seem mighty well accustomed to making yourself at home." " And why wouldn't the young man," said Mary, apparently well pleased to encourage a little jealousy on the part of her lover, " and no harm neither ? And ye do be always with the hounds, sir ? " " Yes, miss, that's what I be doing; but I wonder what's keeping the captain — Pve a letter here for him, that I know ought to have no delay. I run all the way for fourteen miles over Mey'nacurraghew mountain to be here quick with it." I opened the door as I heard this, and entered the kitchen. " Hurroo ! by the mortial," cried Joe, with one of his wild shouts. " it's himself. Arrah, darlin', how is every bit in your skin.P" •''Well, Joe my j^oor fellow I am delighted to see you safe and sound once more. Many a day have I reproached myself for the way you suffered for my sake, and for the manner I left yr.u." " There's only one thing you have any rayson to grieve over," said tiie poor fellow, as the tears started to his eyes, and rolled in heavy drops down his cheeks, " and here it is." As he spoke, he drew from his bosom a little green silk purse, half filled with gold. yACK IliNTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 285 " Ah, captain, jewel, why wouldn't yon let a poor fellow taste hai>piness his own way ? Is it because I had no shoes on me Jhat T hadn't any pride in my heart? and is it because I wasn't rich that you wouldn't let me be a i'riend to you, just to myself alone ? Oh ! little as we know of grand people and their ways, troth, they don't see our hearts half as plain. See, now, I'd rather you'd have come xip to the bed that morning and left me your curse — ay, devil a less — than that purse of money, and it wouldn't do me as much harm." He dropped his head as he spoke, and his arms fell listlessly to his side, while he stood mute and sorrow-struck before me. "(.'ome, Joe," said 1, holding out my hand to him — "come Joe, forgive me. If I don't know better, remember we were only new acquaintance at thattiint! — from this hour we arc more." The words seemed to act like a spell upon him ; he stood proudly up, and his eyes flashed with their wildest glare, while, seizintr my hand, he pressed it to his lips, and called out — " While there's a drop iu my heart, durlin' " " You have a letter for me," said I, glad to turn the channel of both our thoughts. "Where did you get it? " " At the Curragh, sir, no less. I was standing beside the staff, among all the strand generals and the quality, near tlie lord liftinint, and I heard one of the ofHcers sa}', ' if I knew where to write to him, I'd certainly do so; but he has never written to any of us since his dnel.' ' vVh,' said another, ' Hinton's an odd fellow that wa}'.' The niinit L heard the name, 1 up and said to him, ' Write the letter, and I'll bring it, and bring you an answer besides, av ye want it.' " " ' And who the devil are you ? ' said he, " 'Troth,' said I, 'there's more on this race knows me nor yourself, tine as ye are.' And they all began laughing at this — for the otBcer grew mighty red in the face, and was angry — and what he was going to say it's hard to tell, for just then Lord Clonniel called out — _"' Sure it's Tipperary Joe himself; begad, every oue knows him. Here, Joe, I owe you half-a-crown since last meeting at the lough.' " ' Faix, you do,' says I, ' and ten shillings to the back of it, for Lanty Cassan's mare that I hired to bring you home, when you staked the horse — you never paid it since.' Aud then there was another laugh; but the end of all was, he writ a bit of a note where he was on horseback, with a pencil and here it is.' So saying, he produced a small crnmpled piece of paper, in •which I could with some difficulty trace the following lines, — " Dear Jack— If the fool who bears this ever arrives witli it, come back at once. Your friends in England have been worry- ing the D to comniaud your return to duty ; and there are X 286 yACK: BINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. stories afloat about your western doings tli at your presence here can alone contradict. " Yours, " J. HoRTON." It needed not a second for me to make up my mind as to m)' future course, and I said — " How can I reach Limerick tlie shortest way ? " " I know a short cut," said Joe, " and if we could get a pony I'd bring you over the mountain before to-morrow evening." " And you," said I — " how are you to go ? " " On my feet, to be sure ; how else would I go ? " Despatching Joe, in company with Patsey, in search of a pony to carry me over the mountain, I walked into the little parlour which I v/as now about to take my leave of ibr ever. It was only then, when I threw myself upon a seat, alone and in solitude, that I felt the full force of all my sorrow — the blight that had fallen on my dearest hopes, and the blank, bleak prospect of life before me. Sir Simon Bellew's letter I read over once more; but now the mystery it contained had lost all interest for me, and I had only thoughts for my own affliction. Suddenly, a deep burning spot glowed on my cheek, as I remembered my interview with Ulick Burke, and I sprang to my legs, and for a second or two felt undecided whether I would not give him the opportunity he so longed for. It was but a second, and my better reason came back, and I blushed even deeper with shame than I had done with passion. Calming myself with a mighty effort, I endeavoured to pen a few lines to my worthy and kind friend. Father Loftus. I dared not tell him the real cause of my departure, though indeed I guessed from his absence that he liad accompanied the Bellews, and but simply spoke of my return to duty as imperative, and my regret that after such proofs of his friendship I could not shake his hand at parting. The continued flurry of my feelings doubt- less made this a very confused and inexplicit document; but I could do no better. In fact, the conviction I had long beenlal;our- ing under, but never could thoroughly appreciate, broke on me at the moment. It was this : the sudden vicissitudes of every-day life in Ireland are sadly unsuited to our English natures and ' habits of thought and action. These changes from grave to gay — these outbreaks of high-souled enthusiasm, followed by dark reflective traits of brooding thought — these noble impulses of good — these events of more than tragic horror — demand a changeful, even a forgetful temperament to bear them ; and while the Irishman rises or falls with every emergency of his fate, with us imy:)ressions are eating deeper and deeper into our hearts, and we become sad and thoughtful, and prematurely old. 'I'hns at least did I feel, and seemed to myself as though very many years had passed over me since I had left my father's house. The yjCK HIA'TOX, THE GUARDSMA.W 2S7 tramp of feet, and the sounds of speal^ing and langlilcr outside, interrupted my musings, and 1 lieard my friend Jue carollingat tlie top of his voice — " Sir Pat bestrode a liigh-l.red steed. And the liniifpiiian one that was broken-kneeil ; And Father Fltz liad a wirj' weed, With his tally-highho in the morning." " Faitl) and you're a great beast entirely, and one might dance a jig on your Ijack, and leave room for the j)iper besides." I opened the window, and in the bright moonlight beheld the party leading up a short, rugged-lookinf,' pony, whose breadth of beam and square proportions fully justified ailJoe's encomiums. " Have you bought this pony for me. Joe ? " cried I. " No, sir, only borrowed him. He'll take you up to Wheley's mills, where we'll get Andy's mare to-morrow morning." " ]5orrowed him ? " " Yes." " Where's his owner? " " He's in bed, where he ought to be. I tould him througli the door who it was for, and tliat he needn't get up, as I'd lind the ways of the place myself, and ye sec so 1 did." "Told him who it was for! ^V■hy he never heard of me in his life." "Devil may care; sure you're the priest's friend, and who has a better warrant for everything in the place. Don't you know the song — * And Father Filz had no cows nor sheep, And the devil a hen or pig to keep ; But a pleasantcr house to dine or sleep You'd never find till morning. For IFolly, says he, if the fowls be few, I've only one counsel to give to you : There's hens hard by — go " kill for two," For I've a friend till morning.' By the rock cf Cashel, it 'ud be a hard case av the priest was to want. Look how the oulJ saddle lits him— fai.x, ye'd think he was made for it." I am not quite sure that I felt all Joe's enthusiasm for the beast's perfections; nor did the old yeomanry " denii-piqiie," with its brass mountings and holsters, increase my admiration. Too happy, however, to leave a spot where all my recollections were now turned to gloom and despondence, I packed my few- traps, and was soon ready for the road. It was not without a guli)ing feeling in my throat, and a kind of suffocating oppression at my heart, that I turned from the 288 JACK' HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. little room where, in happier times, I had spent so many pleasarit hours ; and, bidding a last good-bye to the priest'.'^ househdd. told them to say to Father Tom how sad I felt at leaving befora he returned. This done, 1 mounted the little pony, and, escorted by Joe, who held the bridle, descended the hill, and soon found myself by the little rivulet that murmured along the steep glen through which our path was lying. CHAPTER XLI. TIPPERABY JOE. I HAVE already passingly alluded to Joe's conversational powers; and certainly they were exercised on this occasion with a more than common ability, either taking my silence as a sugges- tion for him to speak — or perhaps, and more probablj', perceiving that some deep depression was over me — the kind-hearted fellow poured forth his stores of song and legend without ceasing. Now amusing me by his wild and fitful snatches of old ballads — now narrating in his simple but touching eloquence some by- gone story of thrilling interest— the long hours of the night passed over, and at daybreak we found ourselves descendmg the mountain towards a large and cultivated valley, in which I could faintly distinguish in the misty distance the little mill where our relay was to be found. I stopped for a few minutes to gaze upon the scene before me. It was one of those peaceful landscapes of rural beauty, which beam more of soothing influence upou the sorrow-struck heart than the softest voice of consolation. Unlike the works of man, they speak directly to our souls, while they appeal to our reason ; and the truth comes forced upon us, that we alone must not repine. A broad and richly cultivated valley, bounded by mountains whose sides were clothed with deep wood — a stream, whose waywai-d course watered every portion of the plain, was seen now flowing among the grassy meadows, or peeping from the alders that lined the banks. The heavy mist of morning, was rolling lazily up the mountain-side; and beneath its grey mantle the rich green of pasture and meadow land, was breaking forth, dotted with cattle and sheep. As I looked, Joe knelt down and placed his ear upon the ground, and seemed for some minutes absorbed in listening. Then suddenl)^ springing up, he cried out. JACK IllNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 289 " The mill i.'^n't goin^ to-day — I wonder what's the matter. I hope Aiuly isn't sick." A shade of sorrow came over his wild features, as he muttered between his teeth the verse of some old song, of which I could but catch the lust two linos — " And when friends are crying around the dying, Who wouldn't wish he had lived alone I " "Ay," cried he aloud, as his eye jrlistcned with an unnatural lustre, " better be pour Tipperury Joe, without house or home, father or mother, sister or friend, and when the time comes, run to earth, without a wet eye after him." *' Come, come, Joe, you have mauy a friend; and when you count them over, don't forget me in the reckoning." " Whisht, whisht," he whispered in a low voice, as if fearful of being overheard, " don't say that — them's dangerous words." I turned towards him with astouishment, and perceived that his whole countenance had undergone a striking change. The gay and laughing look was gone; the bright colour had left hia cheek ; and a cold, ghastly paleness was Sfiread over his features; and as he cast a hurried and stealthy look around him, 1 could mark that some secret fear was working within him. " What is it, Joe ? " said I ; " what's the matter ? Arc you ill?" " No," said he, in a tone scarce audible, " no, but youfright- ened me just now, when you called me your friend." " How could that frighten you, my poor fellow ? " "I'll tell you — that's what they called my father — they said he was friendly with the gentlemen, and sign's on it:" he paused, and his eye became rooted to the ground, as if on some object there from which he could not turn his gaze : " yes, I mind it well — we were sitting by the fire in tiie guard-room all alone by ourselves — the troops was away, I don't know where — when we heard the tramp of men marching, but not regular, but cominir as if they didn't care how, and horses and carts rattling and rumbling among them." " ' Thim's the boys,' says my father. 'Give me that ould cockade there, till I stick it in my cap, and reach me over the tiddle, till I rise a tune for them.' " I mind little more till we was marching at the head of them through the town, down towards the new college that was building— it's ]\Iaynooth I'm speaking about — and then we turned to the left, my father scraj>ing away all the time every tune he thought they'd like; and if now and then by miatako he'd play any thing that did not plaze them, they'd damn and blast him with the dieadfullest curses, and stick a pike into him, till the blood would come running do\^n his b;ick ; and then my father would cry out — 290 JACK HIXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. "Til tell my friends on you for this — divil a lie in it, but I will.' " At last we came to the duke's wall, and then my father sat down on the roadside, and cried out that he wouldn't go a step farther, for I was crying away with sore feet at the pace we were going, and asking every minute to be let sit down to rest myself. " ' Look at the child,' says he, ' his feet's all bleeding.' " ' Ye have only a little further to go,' says one of them that had crossed belts on, and a green sash about him. " ' The divil resave another step,' says my father. " ' Tell Billy to play us " The Farmer's Daughter " before he goes,' says one in the crowd. " ' I'd rather hear " The Little Bowld Fox," ' says another. "'No, no, " Baltioruni ! Baltiorum!"' says many more behind. " ' Ye shall have them all,' says my father, ' and that 'ill plaze ye-' " And so he set to, and played the three tunes as beautiful as ever ye heard ; and wheu he was done, the man with the belta ups and says to him — " Ye're a tine hand, Billy, and it's a pity to lose you, and your friends will be sori-y for you ' — and he said this with a grin — 'but take the spade there and dig a hole, for we must be jogging, it's nigh day.' " Well, my father, though he was tired enough, took the spade, and began digging as they told him, for he thought to himself, the boys is going to hide the pikes and the carbines before they go home. Well, when he worked half an hour, he threw off his coat, and set to again; and at last he grew tired and sat down on the side of the big hole, and called out — " ' Isn't it big enough now, boys ? ' " No,' says the captain, ' nor half.' " So my father set to once more, and worked away with all his might, and they all stood by, talking and laughing with one another. "' Will it do now? ' says my father; 'for sure enough I'm clean beat.' '' ' Maybe it Tnight,' says one of them : ' lie down and see if it's the length.' "'Well, is it that it's for? ' says my father: ' faix, I never guessed it was a grave ; ' and so he took off his cap and lay down his full length in the hole. "' That's all right,' says the others, and began with spades and shovels to cover him up. At tirst he laughed away as hearty as the rest; but when the mould grew heavy on him he began to screech out to let him up, and then his voice grew weaker and fainter, and they waited a little, then worked harder, and then JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 291 came a proan, and all was still ; and tlicy patted the sods over him ami heaiicd them up; and then tliey took me ami pnt nie in the middle ot'tliem, and one called out, 'March !' Ithonj^ht I saw the f^reen sod moving on the top of the grave as we walked away, and heard a voice half choking calling out, 'There, boya. there ! ' andtlieu a laugh. 15ut sure I often hear the same still, when there's nobody near me, and I do be looking oa the ground by myself." " (ireat God!" cried I. "is this true?" " True as you're there," replied he. " I was ten years of age when it happened, and I never knew how time went since, nor how long it is ago, only it was in the year of the great troubles here; and the soldiers and the country people never could be cruel enough to one another; and whatever one did to-day, the others would try to beat it out to-morrow. But it's truth every word of it; and the place is called 'Billy the fool's grave' to this hour. I go there once a year to see it myself." Tliis frightful story — told, too, with all the simple power of truth — thrilled through me with horror, long alter the impres- sion seemed to have faded away from him who told it; and though he still continued to speak on, I heard nothing; nor did 1 mark our jirogress, until 1 found myself beside the little stream which conducted to the mill. CHAPTER XLII. THE men KOAD. Joe was right, the mill was not at work, for " Andy "' had been summoned to Ennis, where the assizes were then going forward. The mare which had formed ]iart of our calculations was also absent; and we sat down in the little porch to hold a council of war as to our future proceedings. After caiivassing the question for some time, Joe left me for a few minutes, and returned with the information that the high road to Ennis lay only a couple of miles distant, and tliat a stage coach would pass there in about two hours, by which I could reach the town that evening. It was therefore decided that he should return with the pony to Murranakilty ; while I. having jirocured a gossoon to carry my baggage, made the best of my way to- wards the Ennis road. Joe soon found me an urchin to succeed him as my guide and companion, and with an alfcctionatc leave-taking, and a 292 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. faithful promise to m&dt me sometime and somewhere we parted. So long as I had journeyed along beside my poor, half- witted follower, the strange and tickled features of his wan- dering intellect had somehow interrupted the channels of my own feelings, and left me no room for reflection on my changed Ibrtunes. Now, however, my thoughts returned to the past with all the force of some dammed-up current, and my blighted liopes threw a dark and sombre shadow over all my features. What cared I what became of me? why did I hasten hither and thither? were my first reflections. If life had lost its charm, ^!so had misfortune its terror for me. There seemed something frivolous and contemptible in the return to those duties which in all the bouyant exhilaration of my former life had ever seemed unfitting and unmanly. No: rather let me seek for some employment on active service — the soldier's career 1 once longed for, to taste its glorious enthusiasm — I wished for now, to enjoy its ceaseless movement and exertion. As I thought over all I had seen and gone through since my arrival in Ireland — its varied scenes of mirth and woe; its reck- less pleasures, its wilder despair — I believed that I had acquired a far deeper insight into my own heart, in proportion as Hooked more into those of others. A not unfrequent error this. The out- stretched page of human nature that I had been gazing on had shown me the passions and feelings of other men laid bare before me, while my own heart lay dark, enshrined, and unvisited within me. I believed that life had no longer anything to tie me to it — and I was not then twenty ! Had I counted double as many years, I had had more reason for the belief, and more difficulty to think so. Sometimes I endeavoured to console myself by thinking of all the obstacles that, under the happiest circumstances, must have opposed themselves to my union with Louisa Bellew. My mo- ther's pride alone seemed an insurmountable one. But then I thought of what a noble part had lain before me, to prefer the object of my love — the prize of my own winning — to all the caresses of fortune — all the seductions of the world. Sir Simon Bellew, too— what could he mean ? The secret he alluded to, what was it ? Alas ! what mattered it — my doom was sealed — my fate decided — I had no care for how ! Such were my thoughts as I journeyed along the path that conducted towards the high road, while my little guide, bare- legged and bare-footed, trotted on merrily before me, who, with none of this world's goods, had no room in his heart for sorrow or repining. We at last reached the road, which, dusty and deserted, skirted the side of a bleak mountain for miles — not a house to be seen, not a traveller, nor scarce a wheel-track to mark the JACK JILXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 293 course of any one having passed tliero. T had not followed it for more than half an hour when I lieard the tramp of hor.soM and the roll which announced the approach of an equipage. Avast cloud of dust, through which a i)air of leaders were alone visible, appeared at a distance. I seated myself at the roadside to await its coming, my little gossoon beside me, evidently not sorry to have reached a resting-place; and once more my thoughts returned to their well-worn channel, and my head sank on my bosom. I forgot where I was, when suddenly the jiranoing of a jiair of horses close to me aroused me from my stupor, and a postillion called out to me in no very subdued accent — " Will ye hook on that trace there, avick, av yo're not asleep." Whether it was my look of astonishment at tlie tone and the nature of the request, or delay in acceding to it, I know not, but a hearty curse from the fellow on the wheelers jierfectly awakened me, and I replied by something not exactly calculated to ap- pease the heat of the discussion. " Be gorra," said he of the leaders, " it's always the way with your shabby genteels; " and he swung himself down from the saddle to perform the required service himself. During this I took the opportunity of looking at tlic carriage, whicli was a large and handsome barouche, surrounded by all llie appurtenances of travel — cap-ca.-^es, imperials, &c. — a fat- looking, lazy footman, nodding sleepily on the box, and a well- lanned lady's maid was reading a novel in the rumble. Within T saw the figure of a lady, whose magniticent style of dress but little accorded with tlie unfrequented road she was traversing. and the wild inhabitants so thinly scattered through it. As I looked she turned round suddenly, and before I could recognise her, called out my name. The voice in an instant re-assured mc — it was ]\Irs. Paul Rooney herself. " Stop," cried she, with a wave of her jewelled hand. " Michael, get down. Only think of meeting you here, captain." I stammered out some explanation about a cross-cut over the mountain to catch the stage, and my desire to reach Ennis; while the unhappy termination of our intimacy, and my mo- ther's impertinent letter, kept ever uppermost in my mind, and niad(» me confused and uneasy. Mrs. Paul, however, liad evi- dently no participation in such feelings, but welcomed me with her wonted cordiality, and shook my hand with a warmth that proved, if she had not forgotten, she had certainly forgiven the whole affair. "And so you are going to Ennis." said she, as I assumed the place beside her in the barouche, while IMichael was busily en- gaged in fastening on my luggage behind ; the which two move- ments seemed to be as naturally performed as tbouj^h the 294 7^CK HINT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. amiable lady had been in the habit of talcing np walking gen- tlemen with a portmanteau every day of her life: "well, how fortunate ! I'm goiog tliere too. Pole," — so she now designated her excellent spouse, it being the English for Paul, — " has some little business with the chief justice — two murder cases, and a forcible abduction — and I promised to take him up on my return from Miltown, where I have been spending a few weeks. Aftei that we return to our little place near Bray, where I hope you'll come and spend a few weeks with us." " This great pleasure I fear I nnust deny myself," said I, " for I have already outstayed my leave, and have unfortunately somehow incurred the displeasure of his excellency ; and unless," — here I dropped my voice, and stole a half timid look at the lady under my eye-lashes, — " some one with intiuence over his grace shall interfere on my behalf, I begin to half fear lest I may find myself in a sad scrape." Mrs. Paul blushed, turned away her head, while pressing my hand softly in her own, she jnurmurcd — " Don't fret about it— it won't signify."' I could scarce repress a smile at the success of my bit of flattery, for as such alone I intended it, when she turned towards me, and, as if desirous to change the topic, said — "Well, we heard of all your doings — your steeple-chase, and your duel, and your wound, and all that — but what became of you afterwards .^ " " Oh," said I hesitatingly, " I was fortunate enough to make a most agreeable acquaintance, and with him I have been spending a few weeks on the coast — Father Tom Loftus." " Father Tom ! " said Mrs. Rooney with a laugh, " the plea- sentost crayture in Ireland. There isn't the like of him. Did he t-ing you the ' Priest's Supi^erP'" The lady blushed as she said these words, as if carried away by a momentary excitement to speak of matters not exactly suitable; and then drawing her- self up, she continued in a more measured tone — "You know, captain, one meets such strange people in this world." "To be sure, Mrs. Eoouey," said I, encouragingly ; " and to one like yourself, who can appreciate character. Father Loftus is indeed a gem." Mrs. Rooney, however, only smiled her assent, and again changed the course of the conversation. " You met the Bellews, I suppose, when down in the west? " " Yes," stammered I ; " I saw a good deal of Sir Simon when in that country." " Ah, the poor man ! ' said she with real feeling, " what an unhajijiy lot his has been." Supposing that she alluded to his embarrassment as to fortune, the dilHculties which pressed upon him from money causes, I merely muttered my assent. OACK ]II.\TO.\\ TJIK GL'ARDSMAN. 295 "But I .suppose,'' continued slie, "you have heard tho whole story- -lh(ju.i,'h tho unhappy event occurred when you were ;i mere child." " I am not aware to Avhat you allndi'," said I eagerly, wliilo a suspicion shot across iny mind that the secret of JSir Siniou Bellew's letter was at length to be cleared up. " Ah," said Mrs. liooney with a sigh, " I moan ]ioor dear Lady Bellew's ailair— when she went away with a Miijor of dragoons; and to be sure an elegant young nuiu he was, they said. I'ole was on the inquest, and I heard him say he was the handsomest man he ever saw in his life." " lie died suddenly, then ? " " He was sliot by Sir .Simoii in a duel the very day week after the elopement.'' "And.'^he?" said I. " i'oor thing, she died of a consumption, or some say a broken heart, the same summer." " That is a sad story, indeed," said I musingly ; " and I no longer wonder that the i)0i)r old man should be such as he is." "No, indeed; but then he was very much blamed after all, for he never had that Jerniugham out of the house." " Horace Jeruingham ! " cried I, as a cold sickening fear crept over me. " Oh, yes, hat was his name. He was the Honourable Horace Jerniugham, the younger son of some very high family in England ; and, indeed, the elder l)rother has died since, and they say the title has become extinct." It is needless for me to attempt any description of the feelings that agitated my heart, when 1 say that Horace Jcrningliam was tho brother of my own mother. I remembered when a child to liave heard something of a dreadful duel, when all the himily went into deep mourning, and my mother's health surt'ered so severely that her life was at one time feared for ; but that fate should hare ever thrown me into intimacy with those upon whom this grievous injury was intlicted, and by whom death and mourning were brought upon my house, was a sad and overwhelming atiiiction, that rendered me stunneJ and speech- less. _ How came it then, thought I, that my mother never re- cognised the name of her brother's antagonist when speaking of Miss Bellow in her letter to me. Before I had time to revolve this doubt in my mind Mrs. Rooncy had explained it. "And this was the beginning of all his misfortunes. The friends of the poor young man were people of great influence, and set every engine to work to ruin Sir Simon, or as he then was, Mr. Simon Barrington. At last they got liim outlawed, and it was only the very year he came to the title and estates of his uncle that the oulhiwrv was taken olf, and he was once more enabled.to return to Ireland. However, they had their 29i6 JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. revenge if they wished for it ; for what between recklessness and liad company, he took to gambling when abroad, contracted immense debts, and came into his fortune little better than a beggar. Since that the world has seen little of him, and indeed he owes it but little favour. Under Pole's management the property is now rapidly improving; but the old man cares little for this, and all I believe he wishes for is to have health enough to go over to the Continent, and ])lace his daughter in a convent before he dies." Little did she guess how every word sank deep into ray heart. Every sentence of the past was throwing its shadov/ over all my future, and the utter wi'eck of my hopes seemed now inevit- able. While thus I sat brooding o'er my gloomiest thoughts, Mrs. Eooney, evidently affected by the subject, maintained a per- fect silence. At last, however, she seemed to have summed np the whole case in her mind, as turning to me confidentially, with her hand pressed upon my arm, she added in a true moralizing cadence, very ditferent from that she had employed when her feelings were really engaged — "And that's what always comes of itt, when a gallant, gay Lutherian gets admission into a family." Shall I confess, that notwithstanding the deep sorrow of my heart, I could scarce repress an outbreak of laughter at these words. We now chatted away on a variety of subjects, till the concourse of people pressing onwards to the town, the more thickly populated country, and the distant view of chimneys, ap- jjrised us we were approaching Ennis. Notwithstanding all my wishes to get on as fast as possible, I found it impossible to resist an invitation to dine that day with the Rooneys, who had engaged a small select party at the Head Inn, where Mrs. Eooney 's apartments were already awaiting her. It was du.sk when we arrived, and I could only perceive that the gloomy and narrow streets were densely crowded with coun- try people, who conversed together in groups. Here and there a knot of legal folk were congregated, chatting in a louder tone ; and before the court-house stood the carriage of the chief justice, with a guard of honour of the county yeomanry, whose un- soldierlike attitudes and droll equipments were strongly provoca- tive of laughter. The postillions, who had with true tact re- served a " trot for the town," whi])ped and spurred with all their might ; and as we drove through the thronged streets a strange impression lied abroad that we were the bearers of a reprieve, and a hearty cheer from the mob followed us to our arrival at the inn-door — a compliment which Mrs. Paul, in nowise attri- buting to any thing save her own peculiar charms and deserts, most graciously acknowledged by a smile and a wave of her hand, uccompanicd by an unliniited order for smuU beer — which yACK' Jl/X'fOX, Tin-: GUARDSMAX. ^)1 act of j^race was, I think, even more popular tlian their first ini- prossinii concerning us. " Ah, captain," said the lady witli a compassionate smile, as I handed her out of the carriage, " tliey are bo attached to the aristocracy ! " CHAPTER XLIII. THE ASSIZE TOWN. When I had dressed I found that I had above an hour to spare liefore dinner, so taking my hat I strolled out into the town. The streets were even more crowded now than before. The groups of country people were larger, and as the}' conversed together in their native tongue, with all the violent gesticula- tion and energetic passion of their nature, an inexperienced spectator might well have supposed them engaged in active strife. Now and then a kind of movement — a species of sujipressed murmur from the court-house, would turn every eye in that (iireetion, and then every voice was hushed ; not a man moved. It was evident that some trial of the deepest interest was going forward, and on inquiry I learned that it was a murder case, in which si.\ men were concerned. I heard also that the only evi- dence against them was from one of their own party, who had turned, as the lawyers term it, approver. 1 knew well that no circumstance was more calculated than this to call forth all that is best and worst in Irish character, and thought, as I walked along thmugh the dense crowd, I could trace in the features around me the several emotions by wliich they were moved. Here was an old grey headed man leaning on a staff; his lack- lustre eyes gazing in wonder at some speaker who narrated a portion of the trial — his face all eagerness, and his hands tremu- lous with anxiety; but I felt I could read the deep sorrow of his heart as he listened to the deed of blood, and wondered how men would risk their tenure of a life which, in a few days more, per- ha]is, he himself was to leave for ever. Here beside him was a tall and powerfullylmilt countryman ; his hat drawn upon his eyes, that peered forth from their shadow — dark, lustrou-;, and almost wild in their expression ; his face, tanned by season and exposure, was haggard and care-worn, and in his tirndy-clenched lips and fast-locked jaw you could read the resolute i)ur|)Ose of one who could listen to nothing, save the promptings of the :!98 yACK HhXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. spirit of vengeance, and his determination that blood should have blood. Some there were whose passionate tones and violent gestures showed that all their sympathy for the prisoners was merged iii the absorbing feeling of detestation for the informer; and you could mark in such groups as these that more women were mingled, whose blood-shot eyes and convulsed features made them appear the very demons of strife itself. But the most paiutnl sight of all was the children who were assembled around every knot of speakers— their eyes staring, and their ears eagerly drinking in each word that dropped; no trace of child- hood's happy carelessness was there; no sign of that light- hearted youth that knows no lasting s(jrrow. No : theirs were the rigid features of intense passion, in which fear, suspicion, craft, Ijut above all, the thirst for revenge, were writ. There were some whose clenched hand and darkened brow betokened the gloomy purpose of their hearts. There were others whose out- poured wrath heaped curses on him who had betrayed his lellows — there was grief, violent, wild, and frantic— there was mute and speechless suffering, but not a tear did I see, not even on the cheek of childhood or of woman— no ! Their seared and withered sorrow no dew of tears had ever watered. Like a blighting simoom the spirit of revenge had passed over them, and scorched and scathed all the verdant charities of life. The law, which in other lands is looked to for protection and security, was regarded by them as an instrument of tyranny; they neither understood its spirit, nor trusted its decisions ; and when its blow fell upon them, they bent their heads in mournful sub- mission, to raise them when opportunity offered, in wild and stern defiance. Its denunciations came to them sudden and severe : they deemed the course of justice wayward and capricious — the only feature of certainty in its operation being, that its victim was ever the poor man. The passionate elements of their wild natures seemed but ill- adapted to the slow-sustained current of legal investigation : tliey look upon all the details of evidence as the signs of vindictive malice ; and thought that trickery and deceit were brought in arms against them. Hence each face among the thousands there bore the traces of that hardened, dogcred suffering that tells us that the heart is rather steeled with the desire to avenge, than bowed to weep over the doomed. Before the court-house a detachment of soldiers was drawn up, under arms; their unmoved features and fixed attitudes presenting a strange contrast to the excited expressions and changeful gestures of those about them. The crowd at ihis part was thickest, and I could perceive in their eager looks and mute expressions that something more than common had at- tracted their attention ; my own interest was, however, directed yACK IIISTOX, HIE cr.lRDS.U.lX. 299 in another quarter; for, throuirli llio open window of the court- house I could hear the words of a si)t;aker, whom I soou recos^- iiised as the couucil for the prisoner addrt'ssing the jury. >iy ionigiw^ cap passed me at once thmui^li the nudes, and afLer some little crushinij I succeeded in gaining admission to the body of the court. iSuch was the crowd within, I could see nothing but the heada of a closely-wcdf,'od mas.s of people— save at the distant part of the court, the judges, and to their right, the figure of the pleader, whose back was turned towards me. Little as I heard of the speech, I was overwhelmed with surprise at what T did hear. Touching on the evidence of the "approver" l)ut slightly, the advocate dwelt with a terrific force upon the detrraded character of a man who could trade upon the blood of his iornier friends and associates; scarce sto|iping to canvass ]iow the testimony bore liome u)ion the prisoner, he burst forth jnto an impassioned appeal to the hearts of the jury, on faith betrayed and vows forsworn; and ])ictured forth the man wIki could thus surrender his fellows to the scaffold, as a monster whose evidence no man could trust — no jury confide in; and when he had thus heightened the colouring of his description by every power of an eloquence that made the very building ring, he turned suddenly towards the infV)rmer himseif, as, i>ale, wan, and conscience-stricken, he cowered beneath the lightning glance from an e}^^ that seemed to pierce his secret soul within liim, and apostrophizing his virtues, he directed every glance upon the niiseral)le wretch that writhed beneath his sarcasm. This seemed, indeed, the speaker's forte. Never did I lu-ar any thing so tremendous as the irony with which he described the credit due to one who had so often been sworn and forsworn — "who took au oath of allegiance to his king, and an oath of fealty to his fellows, and then was there that day with a third oath, by which, in the blood of his victim, he was to ratify his perjury to both, and secure himself aji hon- ourable independence."' The caustic satire verged once — only . once— on something that produced a laugh, when the orator suddenly stopt — '• I iind, my lord, T have raised a smile. God knows, never did I feel less merriment. Jjct me not be condemned. Let not the laugh be mistaken — few are those events that are produced by folly and vice that fire the hearts with indigna- tion, but something in them will shake the sides witli laughter. So, when the two famous motal'ists of old beheld the sad spec- tacle of Life, the one burst into laughter, the other melted into tears. They were each of them right, and equally right. ]?ut these laughs are the bitter rueful laughs of honest indig- nation, or they are the laughs of hectic melancholy and 300 JACK HINTON, TtiE GVARDSMAM. despair. But look there, and tell me where ia your laughter now." With these words he turned fully round and pointed his! finger to the dock, where the six prisoners side by side leaned their haggard, death-like faces upon the rail, and gazed with stupid wonder at the scene before them. Pour of the num- ber did not even know the language, but seemed, by the instinct of their position, to feel the nature of the appeal their advocate was making, and turned their eyes around the court as if in search of some one look of pity or encouragement that should bring comfort to their hearts. The whole thing was too dread- ful to bear longer, so I forced my way thron^h the crowd, and at last reached the steps in front of the building. But here a new object of horror presented itself, and one which to this hour I cannot chase from before me. In the open space between the line formed by the soldiers and the court knelt a woman, whose tattered garments scarce covered a figure emaciated nearly to .'itarvation — her cheeks, almost blue with famine, were jnnched inwards — and her hands, which she held clasped with outstretched arms before her, were like the skinny claws of some wild animal. As she neither spoke nor stirred there was no effort made to remove her ; and there she knelt, her eyes, bloodshot and staring, bent upon the door of the building. A vague fear took possession of me. Somehow I had seen that face before. I drew near, and as a cold thrill ran through my blood, I remembered where. She was the wife of the man by whose bedside I had watched in the mountains. A half dread of being recognised by her kept me back for a moment — then came the better feeling, that perhaps I might be able to serve her, and I walked towards her, but though she turned her eyes towards me as I approached, her look had no in- telligence in it — and I could plainly see that reason had tied, and left nothing save the poor suffering form behind it. I en- deavoured to attract her attention, but all in vain ; and at last tried by gentle force to induce her to leave the place ; but a piercing shiiek, like one whose tones had long dwelt in my heart, broke from her, and a look of such unutterable anguish, that I was obliged to desist and leave her. The crowd made way for me as I passed out, and I could see in their looks and demeanour the expression of grateful acknow- ledgment for even this show of feeling on my part — while some muttered as I went by a " God reward ye," " the Lord be good to you," as though at that moment they had nothing in their hearts save thoughts of kindness and words of blessing. I reached my room, and sat down a sadder, perhaps a wiser man ; and yet I know not this. It would need a clearer head than mine to trace all the varying and discordant ele- ments of character I had witnessed to their true source — to yACK iriNTOA', the GUARDSMAiW 301 sifl the evil from the good, to know what to cherish, what to repress, whereon to build hope, or what to fear. Such waa this country once!— has it changed i>iace? CHAPTER XLIV. THE B A K DINNER. At nine o'cluck the jury retired, and a little afterwards the front drawing-room of the head inn was becoming every moment more crowded, as the door opened to admit the several members of tlin bur, invited to partake of Mrs. Kooney's hospitalities. Mrs. Rooney's, I say; for the etiquette of the circuit forbidding the attorney to entertain the dignitaries of the craft, Paul was only present at his own table on sufi'urance, and sought out the least obtrusive place he could find, among the j unions and side-dishes. No one who could have seen the gay, laughing, merry mob of shrewd, cunuiiiglookirig nion, that chatted away there, would have imagined tliem, a few moments previously, engaged in a question where the lives of four of their fellow-men hung in the balance, and where, at the very moment, the deliberation was continued that should, perhaps, sentence them to death ujion the scatfold. The instincts of a profession are narrow and humiliating tilings to witness. The surgeon who sees but in the suffering agony of his patient the occasional displacement of certain anatomical details, is little better than a savage : the lawyer who watches the passions of hope and fear, distrust, dread, and sus[)icion, only to take advantage of them in his case, is far worse than one. I confess, on looking at these men, I could never divest myself of the impression that the hired at;d paid- for passion of the advocate; the subtlety that is engaged special; the wit that is briefed; the impetuous rush of indignant eloquence that is bottled up from town to town in circuit, and, like soda-water, grows weaker at every corking— make but a poor ensemble of qualities for the class who, ;pa7' excellence, stand at the head of professi(.)ual life. One there was, indeed, whose haggard eye and blanched check showed no semblance of forgetting the scene in which so lat»iy he had been an actor. This was the lawyer who had defended 302 yACK HINTOJV, THE GUARDSMAN. the prisoners. He sat in a -window, resting his head upon Lis hand — fatigue, exhaustion, but more than all, intense feeling pourtrayed in every lineament of his pale face. " Ah," said the gay, jovial-looking attorney-general, slapping him familiarily on the shoulder — "ah, my dear fellow; not tired, I hope. The court was tremendously hot; but come, rally a bit: %ve shall want you. Bennet and O'Grady havo-dis- appointed us, it seems ; but you are a host in yourself.'* " Maybe so," replied the other faintly, and scarce lifting his eyes ; " but you can't depend on my elevation."' The ease and readiness or the reply, as well as the tones of the voice, struck me, and I perceived that it was no other than the prior of the Monks of the Screw who had spoken. Mrs. Kooney made her appearance at the moment, and my attention was soon taken away by the announcement of dinner. One of the judges arrived in time to offer his arm, and I could not help feeling amused at the mock-solemnity of the procession, as we moved along. The judge, I may observe, was a young man, lately promoted, and one whose bright eye and bold dash- ing expression bore many more traces of the outer bar than it smacked of the dull gravity of the bench. He took the end of the table beside JNIrs. Paul, and the others soon seated them- selves promiscuously along the table. There is a species of gladiatorial exhibition in lawyers' society that is certainly very amusing. No one speaks without the foreknowledge that he is to be caught up, punned up. or ridi- culed, as the case maybe. The whole conversation is, therefore, a hail-storm of short stories, quips, and retorts, intermingled •with details of successful bar stratagems, and practical_ jokes played off upon juries. With less restraint than at a military mess, there is a strong professional feeling of deference for the seniors, and much more tact and knowledge of the world to unite them. While thus the whole conversation ran on topics of the circuit, I was amazed at Mrs. Rooney's perfect intimacy with all the niceties of a law joke, or the fun of a nisi prius story. She knew the chief peculiarities of the several persons alluded to, and laughed loud and long at the good things slie listened to. The judge alone, above all others, had the lady's ear. His bold but handsome features — his rich commanding voice, nothing the worse that it was mellowed by a little brogue — his graceful action and manly presence — stamped him as one well suited to be successful wherever good looks, ready tact, and consummate conversational powers have a tield for their displaj'. His stories were few, but always jiertinent and well told ; and frequently the last joke at the table was capped by him, when no one else could have ventured to try it — while the rich roll of his laugh was a guarantee for mirth that never failed. It was when my attention was drav.'n off by ]\Irs. Rooney to yACk' J/INTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 303 Bomc clrciimsfancc of our former inlimacy, tliat a Learly l.iirs^t of luiij,'liii)g, frcjin the cud of the table, told that soiucthing unuHually absurd wag being rohited. " Yes, sir," said a shrewd-lookinp, tliin old fellow, in spectacles, " we capitulated, on condition of leaving the garrison with all the honours of war ; and, i'aith, the sheriff was ouly too glad to comply. " "Bob Mahon is certainly a bold fellow, and never liard pushed, whatever you may do with him." " Bob Mahon ! '' said 1 : " what of him ? " "Keatley has just been telling how he held out the jail of Ennis for four weeks against the sheriff. The jailor was iin old tenant of his, and readily came into his plans. Tiiey were victualled for a long siege, and, as the place was strong, they had nothing to fear, "VVhen the garrison was summoned lo surrender, they put a charge of Ko. 4 into the sub-sherilf, tluit made him move to the rear; and as the prisoners were all com- ing from the assizes, they were obliged to let him have his owu terms, if he'd only consent to come out. So they gave him twelve hours' law, and a clear run for it ; and he's away." Thi.s was indeed a very quick realization of Fatiier Tom.'s prediction, and 1 joined in the mirth the story elicited— not tlie less readily, that 1 was well acquainted with the jirincipal actor in it. While the laughter still continued, the door opened, and a young barrister stole into the room, and whisperea a few word.s into the ear of the counsel for the ]>risoners. He leaned back in his chair, and pushed his wine glass hurriedly before him. "What! Colliuson," cried the altorney-general, "have ihey agreed r '• Yes, sir— a verdict of guilty." " Of course; the evidence was too home for a doubt," said he, filling his glass from the decanter. A sharp glance from the dark eye of the opposite counsel was the only reply, as he rose and left the room. "Our friend has taken a more than common interest in this case," was the cool observation of the last si^eaker ; " but there was no getting over Hanlon's testimony." Here he entered into some detail of the trial, while the buz and confusion of voices became greater than ever. I took this opportunity of makiiijr my escape, and joined Mrs. Eooney, who a short time before had retired to the drawing-room. Mrs. Paul had contrived, even in the short space since her arrival, to iiave converted the drawing room into a semblance of something like an a|)artment in a private house— books, prints, and flowers, judiciously disposed, as well as an open pianoforte, giving it an air of conifurt and ])roin-iety far dilferont from its ordinary seeming. {She was practisiug Moore's newly-published 304 JACK HINTON, TH^ GUARDS MAA'. song of, " Fly from tins world, dear Bessy, with me," az I entered. "Pray, continue, my dear Mrs. Rooney," said I: "I will take it as the greatest possible favour " "Ah!" said Mrs, Paul, throwing up her eyes in the most languishing ecstasy — " ah ! you have soul, I know you have." Protesting that I had strong reasons to believe so, I renewed my entreaty. " Yes,'" said she, musing, and in a Siddons' tone of soliloquy — " yes, the poet is right — 'Music hath cbarms to smooth the savage beast.' But I really can't sing the melodies— they are too much for me. The allusion to former times, when King O'Toole and the rest of the royal family— — Ah ! you are aware, I believe, that family reasons " Here she pressed her embroidered handkerchief to her eyes with one hand, while she pressed mine convulsively with the other. " Yes, yes," said I, hurriedly, while a strong temptation to laugh outright seized me. '' I have heard that your descent "' "Yes, my dear; if it wasn't for the Danes, and the cruel battle of the Boyne, there's no saying where I might not be seated now." She leaned on the piano as she spoke, and seemed over- powered with sorrow. At this instant the door opened, and the judge made his appearance. " A thousand pardons for the indiscretion," said he, stepping back as he saw me sitting with the lady's hand in mine. I sprang up. confused and ashamed; and, rushing past him, hurried downstairs. 1 knew how soon my adventure, for such it would grow into, would be the standing jest of the bar mess ; and not feeling disposed to be present at their mirth, I ordered a chaise, and, before half-an-hour elapsed, was on my road to Dublin. CHAPTER XLV. THE KETURN. We never experience to the full how far sorrow has made its inroad upon us until we come back, after absence, to the places where we have once been happy, and tind them lone and tenant- JACK IIINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 305 less. While wc recognise each old familiar object, we see no longer those who gave thena all their valae in our eyes — every inanimate thing about speaks to our senses, but where are tliey who were wont to speak to our hearts ? The solitary chamber is then, indeed, but the body of all our pleasure, from which the soul has departed for ever. These feelings were mine as I paced the old, well-worn stairs, and entered my quarters in the castle. No more I heard tiie merry la.igh of my friend O'Grady, nor his quick step upon the stair The life, the stir, the bustle of the place itself seemed to hn/eall iled ; the court only echoed to the measured tread of the grenadier, who marched backwards and forwards beside the flag-staff, in the centre of the open space. No cavalcade of joyous riders — no prancir.g horses, led about by grooms — no showy and splendid equipages ; all was still, sad, and neglected- lot)king. The dust whirled aliout in circling eddies, as the cold wind of an autumnal day moaned throngli the arched passages and gloomy corridors of the old building. A care- worn oflicial, or some slatternly inferior of the household would perhaps pass, from time to time, but except such as these, nothing stirred. The closed shutters and drawn down blinds showed that the viceroy was absent, and I found myself the oidy occupant of the building. It requires the critical eye of the observant resident of great cities to mark the changes which season and fashion efi'ect in their appearance. To one unaccustomed to their ]ihases it seems strange to hear, " How empty the town is — how very few people are in London I " — while the heavy tide of ]iopu- lation pours incessantly around him, and his ear is deafened with the ceaseless roll of equipage. 13ut in such a city as Dublin the alteration is manifest to the least remarking. But little frequented by the country gentry, and never except for the few months when the court is there— still less visited by foreigners— deserted by the professional classes, at least such of them as are independent enough to absent themselves, the streets are actually empty. The occupations of trade, the bustle of commerce, that through every season continue their onward course in the great trading cities, such as Liverpool, Hamburgh, Frankfort., and Bourdeaux, scarce exist here; and save that the tattered garments of mendicancy, and the crav- ing cries of hunger are ever before you, you might fall into a drowsy reverie as you walked, and dream yourself in I'almyra. I had strolled about for above an hour, in the moody frame of mind my own reflections and the surrounding objects were well calculated to suggest, when, meeting by accident a sub- altern with whom I was slightly acquainted, I heard that the court had that morning left the Lodge in the park for 3o6 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. Kilkenny, wliere the theatricals of that pleasant city were going furward, a few members of the household alone remain- ing-, who were to follow in a day or two. For some days previous I had made up my mind not to remain in Ii-eland- Every tie that bound me to the country was broken. I had no heart to set about forming new friend- ships while the wounds of former ones were still fresh and bleeding; and I longed for change of scene and active occu- pation, that I might have no time to reflect or look back. Eesolving to tender my resignation on the duke's staff without any further loss of time, I set out at once for the park. I arrived there in the very nick of time : the carriages were at the entrance, waiting for the private secretary of his grace, and two of the aides-de-camp, who were eating a hurried luncheon before starting. One of the aides-de-camp I knew but slightly, the other was a perfect stranger to me ; but Moreton was an intimate acquaintance. He jumped up from his chair as my name was announced, and a deep blush covered his face as he advanced to meet me : — " My dear Hmton, how unfortunate ! Why weren't you here yesterday ? It's too late now." "Too late for what.'' I don't comprehend j^ou." " Why, my dear fellow," said he, drawing his arm within mine, and leading me towards a window, as he dropped his voice to a whisper, '" I believe you heard from me, that his grace was provoked at your continued absence, and expected at least that you would have written, to ask an extension of your leave. I don't know how it was, but it seemed to me that the dnchess cime back from England with some crotchet in her head, about something she heard in London. In any case, they ordered me to write." " Well, well,'' said T impatiently ; " I guess it all. I have got my dismissal. Isn't that the whole of it?" He nodded twice, without speaking. " It only anticipates my own wishes," said I, coolly, "as this note may satisfy yon."' I placed the letter I had written for the purpose of my resignation in his hand, and continued : — '" I am quite convinced in my own mind that his grace, whose kindness towards me has never varied, would never have dreamed of this step on such slight grounds as my absence. No, no ; the thing lies deepei*. At any other time, I should certainly have wished to trace this matter to its source; now, however, chiming as it docs with my own plans, and caring little how fortune intends to treat me, I'll submit in silence." " And take no notice of the affair further ? " " Such is my determination," said I resolutely. " la that case," said Moreton, " I may tell you, that some story of a lady had reached the duchess, when in London ; some JACK IILXTON, THE CUARDSMAX. 307 gill (liat it was rcportcil you endeavoured to scdtice, and liad aotiialiy Iblluwed I'ur lliat jmrposc to tlie west of Ireland. There, there ; don't take the matter up that way, for heaven's sake. jNIy dear fellow, hear me out." But I could hear no more : tlie rushing l)lood tliat crowded on my brain stunned and stu pitied me. and it took several minutes before 1 became sufliciently collected to ask him to go on. " I heard the thing so confusedly," said he, " that I cannot attempt anything like connection in relating it. IJut the story goes, ihat your duel m Loughrca did not originate about the steeple-chase at all, but in a quarrel about this girl, with her brother, or her cousin, who, having discovered your intentions regarding her, you deemed jiroper to get rid of, as a preliminary. No one but a fool could credit such a thing." "None but such could have invented it," said I; as ray thoughts at once recurred to Lord Dudley de Vere. " The duke, however, spoke to General Hinton " " To ray father ! And how did he " " Ob, behaved as only he could have done : — ' Stop, my lord,' said he. ' I'll spare you any farther relation of this matter. If it be true, my son is unworthy of remaining on your staff. If it be false, I'll not permit him to hold an appointment where his reputation has been assailed, without aflording him an oppor- tunity of defence.' High words ensued, and the end was, that if you appeared before to-day, you were to hear the charge, and have an opportunity for reply. If not, your dismissal was to be made out, and another appointed in your place. Now that I have told you, what I feel the indiscretion of my ever having spok.jn of, promise me, my dear Hinton, that you will take no step in the matter. The intrigue is altogether beneath you ; and your character demands no defence on your part." •' I almost suspect 1 know the party," said I, gloomily. " No, no : I'm certain you can't. It is some woman's story; some piece of tea-table gossip, depend on it. In any case, quite unworthy of caring about." "At all events, I am too indifTcrcnt at this moment to feel otherwise about anything," said I. " So, good-l.)y. Moreton — my regards to all our fellows — Good-by ! " " Good-by, my boy," said he, warmly shaking my hand. " But, stop a moment, I have got some letters for you ; they arrived only a few days since." He took a packet from a drawer as he spoke, and, once more bidding him adieu, I set out on my return to the Castle. 3o8 'TACK HINTON, THE GUARCZMAIS> CHAPTEE XLVI. FAREWELL TO IRELAND. My first care on reacliingmy quarters was to make preparations for my departure by the packet of the same evening; my next was, to sit down and read over my letters. As I turned them over, I remarked that there were none from my father nor Lady Charlotte : there was, however, one in Julia's hand ; and also a note from O' Grady : the others were the mere common-place correspondence of every-day acquaintances — which I merely threw my eyes carelessly over ere I consigned them to the tire. My fair cousin's possessed — I cannot explain why — a most un- usual degree of interest for me ; and throwing myself back in my chair, I gave myself up to its perusal. The epistle opened by a half satirical account of the London season — then nearly drawing to its close ; in which various characters and incidents which I have not placed before my readers, but all well known to me, were touched with that quiet subdued raillery she excelled in. The flirtations, the jiltings, the matches that were on or off, the rumoured duels, debts, and difficulties of everyone we were acquainted with, were told with a most amusing smartness ; all showing, young as she was, how thoroughly the wear and tear of fashionable life had in- vested her with the intricate knowledge of character, and the perfect acquaintance with all the intrigues and by-play of the world. How unlike Louisa Bellew, said I, as I laid down the letter after reading a description of a manoeuvering mamma and obedient daughter to secure the prize of the season, with a peerage and some twenty thousand pounds per annum. It was true, they were the vices and the follies of the age which she ridiculed, but why should she have ever known them : or ought she to have been conversant with such a state of society as would expose them : were it not better, like Louisa Bellew, to have passed her days amid the simple, unexciting scenes of secluded life, than to have purchased all the brilliancy of her wit and the dazzle of her genius at the price of true female delicacy and refinement? While I asked and answered myself these questions to the satisfaction of my own heart, I could not dismiss the thought, that amid such scenes as London presented, with such associates as fashion necessitated, the unprotected simplicity of Miss Bellew's character wonld expose her to much both of raillery and coldness ; and felt that she would be nearly as misplaced among the proud daughters of haughty England Hs my fair cousin in the unfashionable freedom of Dublin life. JACK I I INTO N, THE GUARDSMAN. 309 I confess as I road on that old asRociations came crowding Bpou me; the sjiarkling brilliancy of Julia's style reminded me of the charms of her conversational powers, aided by all the loveliness of her beauty, and all the witchery which your true belle of I'ashioii knows how, so successfully, to spread around her ; and it was with a flush of burning shame on my cheek I acknowledged to myself how much her letter interested me. As I continued, I paw O'Grady'a name, and to my astonishment foun black lashes — the perfect contour of her cheeks — her z 3i8 JACK H IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. full short lips, slightly, so slightly curled, you Icnew not it it were no more smiie than sarcasm — the low tones of her voice were rich and musical, and her carriage and demean- our possessed all the graceful elegance which is only met with in the society of great cities. Her manner was most frank and cordial : she held out her hand to me at once, and looked really glad to see me. After a few brief words of recognition, she turned towards De Vere — " I shall ask you to excuse me, my lord, this set. It is so long since I have seen my cousin." He bowed negligently, muttered something carelessly about the next waltz, and with a familiar nod to me, lounged away. O'Grady's caution about this man's attentions to Julia at once came to my mind, and the easy tone of his manner towards her alarmed me; but I had no time for reflection, as she took my arm and sauntered down the room. " And so, inon clier cousin, you have been leading a very wild life of it — fighting duels, riding steeple-chases, breaking your own bones and ladies' hearts, in a manner exceedingly Irish," said Julia with a smile, into which not a particle of her habitual raillery entered. " From 3'-our letter I can learn. Julia, a very strange account of my doings must have reached my friends here. Except from yourself I have met with scarcely anything but cold looks since my arrival." " Oh, never mind that — people will talk, you know. For my part, Jack, I never will believe you anything but what I have always known you. The heaviest charge I have heard against you is that of trifling with a poor girl's afiections ; and as I know that the people who spread these rumours generally don't know at which side either the trifling or the affection resides, why I think little about it." " And has this been said of me ? " "To be sure it has, and ten times as much. As to your gambling sins, there is no end to their enormity. A certain Mr. Rooney, I think the name is, a noted play-man." " How absurd, Julia ! Mr. Rooney never played in his life ; nor have I, excej^t in the casual way every one does in a draw- iug-room." "N'impork — you are a lady-killer and a gambler. Now as to count number three — for being a jockey." " My dear Julia, if you saw my steeple-chase you'd acquit me of that." " Indeed I did hear," said she, roguishly, " that you acquitted yourself admirably — but still you won. And then we come to the great offence — your quarrelsome habits. We heard, it is true, that you behaved, as it is called, very honourabh', &c. ; but really duelling is so detestable " JACK IlINTON, THE CUARDSMAX. 319 "Come, come, fair cousin, let iis talk of Fomethiiit,' bosijrs my delinquencies. What do you think of my friend O'Urady? " I said this suddenly by way of reprisal; but to my utter discomfiture she replied with perfect calmness — " 1 rather was amused with him at lirst. He is very odd- very unlike other people — but l^ady Charlotte took liim up so, and we had so much of him here, 1 grew somewhat tired of him. He was, however, very fond of you, and you know that made up for much with us all." There was a tone of sweetness and almost of aeep interest in these last few words that made my heart thrill, and unconsciously I pressed her arm closer to my side, and felt the touch returned. Ju.st at the instant my fatlier came forward accom.panied by another, who I soon perceived was the royal duke that had received me so coldly a few minutes before. His I'rank, manly face was now all smiles, and his bright eye glanced from my fair cousin to myself with a quick, meaning expression. " Another time, general, will do quite as well. I say, Mr. Hinton, call on me to-morrow morning about ten, will you ? I have something to say to you." I bowed deeply in reply, and he passed on. " And let me see you after breakfast," said Julia, in a half whisper, as she turned towards De Vere, who now came forward to claim her for the waltz. My father, too, mixed with the crowd, and I felt myself alone and a stranger in what should have been my home. A kind of cold thrill came over me as I thought how unlike was my wel- come to what it would have been in Ireland ; for although I felt that in my father's manner towards me there was no want of affection or kindness, yet somehow I missed the exuberant warmth and ready cordiality I had latterly been used to; and soon turned away, sad and disappointed, to seek my own room. CHAPTER XLVIII. AN UNHAPPY DISCLOSURE. ""What!" cried I, as I awoke the next morning, and looked with amazement at the figure who waddled across the room with a boot in either hand. "What, not Corny Delany, surely." " Ugh, that same," said he, with a cranky croak : " I don't 320 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. wonder ye don't know me ; hardship's telling on me every day." Now really, in vindication of my father's household, in which Sir Corny had been domesticated for the last two months, I must observe that the alteration in his appearance was not exactly such as to justify his remark ; on the contrary, he had grown fatter and more ruddy, and looked in far better case than I had ever seen him : his face, however, most perseveringly preserved its habitual sour and crabbed expression, rather in- creased, than otherwise, by his improved condition. " So, Corny, you are not comfortable here I find." " Comfortable ! The ways of this place would kill the Da,nes ! Nothing but ringing bells from morning till night : carriages drivin' like wind up to the door; and bang, bang away at the rapper : then more ringing to let them out again ; and bel s for breakfast, and for luncheon, and the hall dinner ; and then the sight of vi'tals that's wasted ; meat, and fish, and fowl, and vege- tables without end. Ugh, the haythins, the Turks ; eating and drinking as if the world was all their own." " Well, apparently they take good care of you in that respect" "Devil a bit of care: here it's every man for himself; but I'll give warnini,' o\\ Saturday; sorrow one o' me 'ill be kilt for the like of tbeni." " You prefer Ireland, then. Corny ? " ♦'AVhosaid I did?" said he, snappishly; "isn't it as bad there ? Ugh, ugh, the captain won't rest asy in his_ grave, after the way be trated'oie ; leaving me here alone and dissolate in this place, amongst strangers." " Well, you must confess the country is not so bad." " And why would I confess it ; what's in it that I don't mis- like ? Is it the heap of houses, and the smoke, and the devil's noise that's always going on that I'd like ? Why isn't it peace- ful and quiet like Dublin ? " And as I conversed further with him, I found that all his dislikes proceeded from the discrepancy he everywhere discovered, from what he had been accustomed to in Ireland; and which, without liking, he still iiroferred to our Saxon observances : the few things he sav/- worthy of praise being borrowed or stolen iVoin his own side of the channel ; and in this his ingenuity was striking, inasmuch that the very trees in Woburn-park owed their goodness to the owner having been once a lord- lieutenant in Ireland; where, as Corny expressed it, "devil tliank him to have fine trees ; hadn't he the pick of the Phayuix .» " I knew that candour formed a most prominent feature in ]\Ir. Dflany's character, and consequently had little difficulty in ascertaining his opinion of every member of my family ; indeed, JACK ni\TO\\ THE GUARDSMAN. 321 to do him justico, no one ever required loss of what is called pumpiufj. His judgment on things and pcoplo flowed from him without effort or restraint, so that ere half an hour elapsed ho had expatiated on ray mother's pride and vanity ; apostrophized my father's hastiness and determination ; and was quite pre- pared to enter upon a critical examination of my cousin Julia'a failings; concerning whom, to my astonishment, he was not half so lenient as 1 expected. " Arrah, isn't she like the rest of them, coorting one day with Captain Phil, and another with the young lord there, and then laugliing at them both with the ould duke that comes here to dinner. Slie thinks I don't be minding her; but didn't I see her taking myself off one day on paper; making a drawing of me, as if I was a baste ! Maybe there's worse nor me," said the little man, looking down upon his crooked shins and large knee-joints with singular complacency ; " and maybe she'd get one of them yet." A harsh cackle, the substitute for a laugli, closed this speech. " Breakfast on the table, sir," said a servant, tapping gently at the door. "I'll engage it is, and will be till two o'clock, when they'll be calling out for luncheon," said Corny, turning up the whites of his eyes, as though the jirofligate waste of the house was a sin he wished to wash his hands of; " that wasn't the way at his honour the Jidge's; he'd never taste a bit from morning till night; and many a man he'd send to his long account in the meantime. Ugh ! I wish I was back there." *' 1 have spent many happy day.'; in Ireland, too," said I, scarce following him in more than the general meaning of his speech. A fit of coughing from Corny interrupted his reply, but as he left the room 1 could hear his muttered meditations, something in this strain : — " Happy days, indeed ; a dacent life you led ! tramping about the country with a fool ! horseriding and fight- ing ! ugh ! " I found my cousin in the break fast- room alone ; my father had already gone out; and as Lady Charlotte never left her room before three or four o'clock, I willingly took the oppor- tunity of our tete-a-tete to inquire into the cause of the singular reception I had met with, and to seek an explanation, if so miglit be, of the viceroy's change towards me since his visit to England. Julia entered frankly and freely into the ■whole matter, with the details of which, though evidently not trusting me to ihe full, she was somehow perfectly conversant. " J\Iy dear John," said she, " your whole conduct in Ireland has been much mistaken " " Calumniated, apparently, were the better word, Julia," said I hastily. 322 JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. " Nay, hear me out : it is so easy when people have no peculiar reasons to vindicate another — to misconstrue— perhaps condemn. It is so much the way of the world, to look at things m. their worst light, that I am sure you will see no particular ingenuity was required to make your career in Dublin appear ii wild one, and your life in the country still more so. Now you are growing impatient ; you are getting angry ; so I shall stop." "No, no, Julia; a thousand pardons if a passing shade of indignation did show itself in my face. Pray go on." "Well, then, when a young gentleman, whose exclusive lean- ingfj were even a little quizzed here — there, no impatience ! — condescends at one spring to frequent third-rate people's houses ; falls in love with a niece, or daughter, or a something there ; plays high among riotous associates ; makes rash wagers; and fights with his friends, who endeavour to rescue him " " Thank you, Jaha — a thousand thanks, sweet cousin. The whole narrative and its author are palpably before me." A deep blush covered her cheek as I rose hastily from my chair. "John, dear John, sit down again." said she, "I have only been in jest all this time. You surely do not suppose me silly enough to credit one word of all this." " It must have been told you, however," said I, fixing my eyes on her as I spoke. The redness of her cheek grew deeper, and her confusion increased to a painful extent as, taking my hand in hers, she said in a low, soft voice — " I have been very, very foolish ; but you will promise me never to remember — at least never to act upon— the " The words became fainter and fainter as she spoke, and at last died away inaudibly ; and suddenly there shot across my ramd the passage in O'Grady's letter — the doubt, once suggested, gained strength at every moment — she loved De Vere. I will not attempt to convey the conflicting storm of passion this thought stirred up within me. I turned towards her. Her head was thrown gently back, and her deep blue lustrous eyes were fixed on me as if waiting my reply. A tear rolled heavily along her cheek — it was the first I ever saw her shed. Pressing her hand to my hps, I muttered the words—" Trust nie, Julia," and left the room. " Sir George wishes to see you, sir, in his own room," said a servant, as I stood stunned and overcome by the discovery I had made of my cousin's affection. I had no time given me for further reflection as I followed him to my father's room. " Sit down, Jack," said my father, as he turned the key in the door, " I wish to talk with you alone, here. I have been with the duke this morning; a little explanation has satisfied him that your conduct was perfectly irreproachable in Ireland : he JACK JIIA'TOy, THE GUARDSMAN. 323 writes by this post to the viceroy to make the whole tiling clear, and iiuleetl he oflered to rciustutcyoii at once, which I refused, however. Now to something graver still, my boy, and whii-h [ wish I could spare you— but it ninnot be." As he spoke thesic words he leaned his head in both his hands, and was silent. A confused, imperfect sense of some impemliiitj bad news rendered me motionless and still, and 1 waited witli- out speaking. When my father lifted up his head his face was pale and care-worn, and an exi)ression such as long illness leaves had usurped the strong and manly character of his countenance. " Come, my boy, I must not keep you longer in sus[)en8e. Fortune has dealt hardly with mo since we parted. Jack, I am abeggiir-'" A. convulsive gulp, and a rattling sound in the throat, followed the words ; and for a second or two his fixed looks and ))urple colour made mo fear a lit was approacinng. But in a few minutes he recovered his calmness, and proceeded, but still with a broken and tremulous voice, to relate the circumstances of his altered fortune. It a!ii)eared that many British officers of high rank had involved themselves deeply in a loan to the S[)anish Govern- ment, under the faith of speedy repayment. The varying chances of the Peninsular struggle had given this loan all the character of a gambling speculation, the skill in which consisted in the anticipation of the result of the war we were then engaged in. J\Iy father's sanguine hopes of ultimate success induced him to enter deeply in the speculation, from which, having onc9 engaged in, there was no retreat. Thousand after thousand ibllowed, to secure the sum already advanced ; and at last, hard pressed by the increasing demands tor money, and confident that the first turn of fortune would lead to repayment, he had made use of the greater part of my cousin Julia's fortune, whoso guardian he was, and in whose hands this trust-money had been left. My cousin would come of age in about four months, at which time she would be eighteen ; and then, if the_ money were not forthcoming, the consequences were utter ruin, with the territic blow of blasted character and reputation. There was a sum of ten thousand pounds settled on me by my grandfather, which I at once olfered to place at his disposal.^ "Alas, my jioor lellow ! I have advanced already ui)ward8 of tliirty tliou.^and of Julia's fortune! No, no, Jack; I have thought much over the matter ; there is but one way of escaping from this difficulty. ]5y disi)0sing of these bonds at considerable loss, I shall be enabled to pay Julia's money. 'L'his will kave us little better than above actual want : still it must be done. I shall solicit a command abroad ; they'll not refuse me, I know. Lady Charlotte must retire to Bath, or some quiet place, which in my absence will appear less remarkable. Strict economy 324 J^CK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. and time will do much. And as to yourself, I know that having once learned what you have to look to I shall have no cause of complaint on your score : the duke has promised to take care of you. And now my heart is lighter than it has been for some months past." Before my father had ceased speaking the shock of his news had crradually subsided with me, and 1 was fully intent on the details by which he hoped to escape his embarrassments. My mother was my hrst thought. Lady Charlotte, I knew, could never encounter her changed condition ; she was certain to siuk under the very shock of it. My father, however, supposed that she need not be told its full extent; that by management the circumstance should be gradually made known to her; and he hoped, too, her interest in her husband and son, both absent from her, would withdraw her thoughts in great measure from the routine of fashionable life, and fix them in a channel more homely and domestic. " Besides," added he, with more animation of voice, " they may offer me some military appointment in the colonies, where she could accompany me.and this will prevent an exposure. And, after all. Jack, there is nothing else for it." As he said this he fixed his eyes on me, as though rather asking than answering the question. Not knowing what to reply, I was silent. " You were tond of Julia, as a boy," said he, carelessly. The blood rushed to my cheek, as I answered, " Yes, sir ; but — but " " But you have outgrown that," added he, with a smile '' Not so much, sir, as that she has forgotten me. In fact, I believe we are excellent cousins." " And it is not now, my dear boy, I would endeavour to maki^ you more to each other. What is not a union of inclination shall never be one of sordid interest; besides, Jack, why should we not take the field together P— the very thought of it taakt s me feel young enough." I saw his lip quiver as he spoke, and unable to bear more, I wrung his hand warmly, and hurried away. CHAPTER XLIX. THE HORSE GUAKDS. I WILL not say that my reverse of fortune did not depress me ; indeed ,the first blow fell heavily ; but that once past, a number of opposing motives rallied my courage and nerved my heart. yACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 325 My Aitlicr. I know, relied on me in this crisis to snpport liis own strength ; 1 liad learned to care less tor extravagant habils and expensive tastes by living among those who accorded them little symputiiy, and les.s respect; besides, it' my changed career excluded me from the race of fashion, it opened the brilliant path of a sf)ldicr's life before me. And now every hour Hcemcd an age, until I should find myself among the gallant fellows who were wmning their laurels in the battle-fields of the Peninsula. According to the duke's appointment of the preceding evening I found myself, at ten o'clock, punctnall}' awaiting my turn to be introduced, in the ante-chamber of the Horse Guards. The room was crowded -with officers in full dress ; some old wliite- liaireJ generals of division coming daily for years past to solicit commands, their fitness lor which lay only in their own doating imaginations ; some, broken by sickness and crippled wiih wounds, were seeking colonial appointments they never could live to reach ; hale and stout men in the prime of lite were there also, entreating exchanges which should accommodate their wives and daughters, who preferred Bath or Cheltenham to the banks of the Tagus or the snows of Canada. Among these, however, were many fine soldier-like fellows, whose only request was to be sent where hard knocks were going, careless of the climate, and regardless of the cause. Another class were thinly sprinkled around; young officers of ihe staff, many of thorn delicate, oliominatc-looking figures, herding scrupulously together, and never condescending, by word or look, to acknow- ledge their brethren about them. In this knot De Vere was conspicuous, by the loud tone of his voice, and tlie continued titter of his unmeaning laugh. I have already mentioned the consummate ease with which he could apparently forget all unpleasant recollections, and accost the man whom he should have blushed to meet. Now he exhibited this power in perfec- tion : saluting me across the room with a familiar motion of his hand, he called out — "Ah, Ilinton, you here, too? Sick of Ireland; I knew it would come to that; looking for something near town ? " A cold negative, and a colder bow, was my only answer. Nothing abashed by this ; indeed, to all seeming, quite in- diffcrent to it, he continued — " Bad style of thing, Dublin ; couldn't stand those confounded talkers, with their old jokes from circuit. You were horribly bored, too ; I saw it" " I beg, my lord," said I, in a tone of seriousness, the best exchange I could assume for the deep annoyance I folt — " I beg that you will not include me in your opinions respecting Ireland ; I opine we differ materially in our impressions on that country, and perhaps not without reason too." These latter words 1 326 JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. spoke witli marked emphasis, and fixing my eyes steadily on him. "Very possibly," lisped he, as coolly as before. "I left it without regret; you apparently ought to be there still : ha, lia, ha, he has it there I think." The blood mounted to my face and temples as T heard these words, and stepping close up beside him, I said slowly and distinctly — "I thought, sir, that one lesson might have taught you with whom these liberties were practicable." As I said thus much, the door opened, and his grace the Duke of York appeared. Abashed at having so far forgotten where I was, I stood motionless and crimson for shame. Lord Dudley, on the contrary, bowed reverently to his royal highness, without the slightest evidence of discomposure or irritation, his easy smile curling his lip. The duke turned from one to the other of us without speak- ing ; his dark eyes piercing, as it were, into our very hearts. *' Lord Dudley de Vere," said he at length, " 1 have signed your appointment. Mr. Hinton, I am sorry to find that the voice I have heard more than once within the last five minutes, in an angry tone, was yours. Take care, sir, that this forgetfulness does not grow upon you. The colonel of the twenty-seventh is not the person to overlook it, I promise you." " If 3'our royal highness " " i must entreat you to spare me any explanations. You are gazetted to the twenty-seventh. I hope you will hold yourself in readiness for immediate embarkation. Where's the detach- ment. Sir Howard ? " " At Chatham, your royal highness," replied an old officer behind the duke's shoulder. At the same moment his grace passed through the room, conversing as he went with different persons about him. As I turned away, I met Lord Dudley's eyes; they were riveted on me with an expression of triumj)hant malice I had never seen in them before, and I hurried homeward with a heart •rushed and wounded. I have but one reason for the mention of this trivial incident : it is to show how often the studied courtesy, the well-practised deception that the fashion of the world teaches, will prevail over the heartfelt, honest indignation which deep feeling evinces ; and what a vast superiority the very affectation of temper confers, in the judgment of others, who stand l)y the game of life, and care nothing for the players at either side. Let no one suspect me of lauding ths mockery of virtue in what I say here. I would merely impress on the young man who can feel for the deep sorrow and abasement I suffered the importance of the attainment of that self-command, of that yACK inxTOA', The guardsmak. 327 restraint over any outbrealc of passion, when the very Bcniblanco of it ensures respect and admiration. It is very dilficult to witness with indifference tlie preference of those we have once loved, for some other person ; ntill more so. when that other chiitices to be one we disHke, the broach of affection seems then tinctured with a kind of betrayal: we call to mind how once we swayed the temper and ruled the thoufjlits of her wlio now has thrown otf her allef,'iance ; we feel, i)erhai).s for the first time too, how forgotten are all our lessons ; how dead is all our wonted iullueucc; we remember wlien the least word, thi slightest action, bent beneath our will; when our smile w,i< happiness, and our very sadness a reproof; and \\u\s we see ourselvi:- r.-,i. ." ded and neglected, with no more liijeily to advise, no more power to control, than the merest stranger of the passing hour. What a wound to our self-love! That my cousin Julia loved Ue Vere O'Grady's suspicions had already warned me: the little I had seen of her since my return strengthened the impression ; while his confident manner and assured tone confirmed my worst fears. In my heart I knew how utterly unwortliy he was of such a girl; but then, if he had already won her affections, my knowledge came too late : besides, the changed circumstances of ray own fortune, which must S(jon become known, would render my interference suspected, and, consequently, of no value; and after all, if I determined on such a course, what allegation could I bring against him which he could not explain away, as the mere levity (if the young officer, associating among those he looked down ujion and despised. Such were some of my reflections as I slowly returned homewards from the Horse Guards. As I arrived, a trav^Uing- earnage stood at the door; boxes, imperials, and cap-eases littered the hall and steps ; servants were hurrying back and forward, and Mademoiselle Clemence, my mother's maid, with a poodle under one arm, and a macaw's cage in the other, was adding to the confusion, by directions in a composite language, that would have astonished Babel itself '• What means all this ? " said I. " Is Lady Charlotte leaving town.?" '■ 3f (' lad'i va part!)' " " Ilcr ladyship's going to Hastings, sir," said the butler, in- terrupting. " Dr. Y has been here this morniog. and recommends an immediate change of air for her ladyship." "Is Sir George in the house?" " No, sir, he's just gone out with the doctor." . " Ah," thought I, " this, then, is a concerted measure to induce ffiy mother to leave town. Lady Julia at home? " •' Yes. sir, iu the drawing-room." " Whose horse is that with the groom ? " 328 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " Lord Dudley de Vere's, sir; he's up stairs." Already had t turned to ^o to the drawing-room, when I heard these words. Suddenly a faint, half-sick feeling came over me, and I hastened up stairs to my own room, actually dreading to meet any one as I went. The Wank future before me never seemed so cheerless as at that moment ; separated, without a chance of ever meeting, from the only one I ever really loved ; tortured by my doubts of her feeling for me — for even now what would I not have given to know she loved me ; my worldly prospects ruined ; with- out a home ; my cousin JuKa, the only one who retained either an interest in me, or seemed to care for me, about to give her hand to the man I hated and despised. " How soon ! and I shall be alone in the world," thought I ; and already the cold selfishness of isolation presented itself to my mind. A gentle tap came to the door ; I opened it ; it was a message from Lady Charlotte, requesting to see me in her room. As I passed the door of the drawing-room I heard Lady Julia and Lord de Vere talking and laughing together : he was, as usual, "so amusing," as my mother's letter called him; doubtless, relating my hasty and intemperate conduct at the Horse Guards ; for an instant I stopped irresolute as to whether I should not break suddenly in, and disconcert his lordship's practical cool- ness by a disclosure: my better reason prevented me, and I passed on. Lady Charlotte was seated in a deep arm-chair, inspecting the packing of various articles of toilet and jewellery which were going on around her, her cheek somewhat llu«hed from even this s-mall excitement. " Ah, dearest John, how d'ye do ? — Find a chair somewhere, and sit down by me ; you see what confusion we're in ; Dr. Y found there was not an hour to spare ; the heart he suspects to be sympathetically engaged — don't put that Chan- tilly veil there, I shall never get at it — and he advises Hastings for the present ; he's coming with us, however — I'll wear that ring, Clemence — and I must insist at his looking at you ; you are very pale today, and dark under the eyes ; have you any pain in the side ? " " None whatever, my dear mother ; I'm quite well." " Pain is, however, a late symptom ; my attack began with an a sense of it was rathei' •• Has Rundal not sent back that bracelet P How very provoking ! Could you call there, dear John ; that tiresome man never minds the servants. It's just on your way to the club, or the Horse Guards, or some- where." I could scarce help a smile, as I promised not to forget the commission. JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 329 "Ami now, my i]<>ar how did liis grace receive you? you saw him tills morning ? " '• I\ly interview was quite satisfactory on the main point; I am ;)])pfiintt'd to the twenty-seventh." " Wliy not on the staff", dear John ? You surely don't moan to leave England, having been abroad already — in Ireland I mean; it's very bard to expect you to go so soon again. Lady Jane Coltluust's son has never been farther from her than Knightsbridge ; and I'm sure I don't see why we are to be treated worse than her." " But my own wish " " Your own wish, my dear, could never be to give mo un- easiness, which, I assure you, you did very considerably while in Ireland : tlie horrid iieople you made acquaintance with — my health, I'm certain, could never sustain a repetition of the shock 1 experienced then." ]\Iy mother leaned back and closed her eyes, as if some very dreadful circumstance ws.s passing across her memory ; and I, liaU ashamed of the position to which she would condemn me, was silent. " There, that aiffretie will do very well there, I'm sure ; I don't know why you are putting in all these things; I shall never want them again, in all likelihood." The depressed tone in which these words were spoken did not affect me much, for I knew well, from long habit, how my mother loved to dwell on the possibility of that event, the bare suggestion of which, from another, she couldn't have endured. Just at this moment Julia entered in her travelling dress ; a shawl thrown negligently across her shoulders. " I hope I have not delayed you. John, are we to have your company too.^ " "ISTo, my dear," said my mother languidly, "he's going to leave us. Some foolish notion of active service " " Indeed," said Julia, not waiting for the conclusion of the speech — " Indeed ! " She drew near me, and as she did so her colour became heightened, and her dark eyes grew darker and more meaning. " You never told me this." "I only knew it about an hour ago myself," replied I coolly ; " and when I was about to communicate my news to you I found you were engaged with a visitor — Lord de Vere, I think." "Ah, yes, very true, he was here,'' she said quickly, and then perceiving that my eyes were li.ved upon her, she turned away her head hastily, and in evident confusion. "Dear me, is it so late?" said ray mother with a sigh. "I have some calls to make yet. Don't you think, John, you could take them off my hands ? It's only to drop a card at Lady Blair's, and you could ask if Caroline's better —though, poor thing! she can't be, of course. Dr. Y says her malady is 330 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. exactly my own ; and tlien if you are passing Long's, tell Sir Charles that our whist-party is put off — jserhaps Grammont has told him already. You may mention to Saunders that I shall not want the horses till I return, and say I detest greys, they are so like city people's equipages ; and wait an instant," — here her ladyship took a small ivory memorandum tablet from the table, and began reading from it a list of commissions, some of them most ludicrously absurd. In the midst of the catalogue my father entered hastily with his watch in his hand. '' You'll be dreadfully late on the road, Charlotte, and you forget Y must be back here early to-morrow." " So I had forgotten it," said she with some animation, " but we're quite ready now — Cleraence has done everything, I think. Come, John, give me your arm, my dear — Julia always takes this side. Are you certain it won't rain, Sir George ? " " I really cannot be positive," said my father smiling. "I'm sure there's thunder in the air," rejoined my mother ; " my nerves would never bear a storm." Some dreadful catastrophe in the West Indies, where an earth- quake had swallowed up a whole population, occurred to her memory at the instant, and the possibility of something similar occurring between Seven Oaks and Tunbridge seemed to engross her entire attention. By this time we reached the hall, where the servants, drawn up in double file, stood in respectful silence. My mother's eyes were, however, directed upon a figure which occupied the place next the door, and whose costume certainly was strangely at variance with the accurate liveries about him. An old white great coat with some twenty capes reaching nearly to the ground — for the garment had been origuially destined for a much larger person — a glazed hat, fastened down with a handkerchief passed over it and tied under the chin, and a black- thorn stick with a little bundle at the end of it, were the most remarkable equipments. " What is it ? What can it be doing there ? " said my mother in a Siddons' tone of voice. " What is it ^ Corny Delany, no less," croaked out the little man in the crankiest tone of his harsh voice. " It's what remains of me, at laste ! " " Oh, yes," said Julia, bursting into a laugh, " Corny's coming as my body-guard. He'll sit in the rumble with Thomas." " What a shocking figure it is," said my mother, surveying him through her glass. " Time doesn't improve either of us," said Corny, with the grin of a demon — happily the observation was only heard by myself. "Is it in silk stockings I'd be trapesing about the roads all night, with the rheumatiz in the small of my back — ■ ugh, the haythens!" My mother was at length seated in the carriage, with Julia JACK IIINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN 3:1 beside her — the ImndreJ and one petty annoyances to make travcllint^ uncomtortal)le, by way of rendering it Rnpportahlo, around her; (.'nrny liad mounted to his j)lace beside Tlnjinas, who re<,'ardcd him with a look of as j)rotound contempt as a sleek, well-fed pointer would confer upon some manpy moMf,'rel of the road-side ; a hurried good-by from my mother, a quirk, sliort glance from Julia, a whisper lost in the crash of tho wheels, and they were gone. CHArTER L. THE RETREAT FROM BURGOS. Few men have gone through life without passing through certain periods which, although not marked by positive misfor- tune, were yet so impressed by gloom and despondence that their ver}' retrospect is saddening. Happy it is for us that in after days our memory is but little retentive of these. We remember the shadows that darkened over the landscape ; but we forget in great part their cause and their duration, and perhaps even sometimes are disposed to smile at the sources of grief to which long habit of the world and its ways would have made us callous. I was almost alone in the world — bereft of fortune, separated irrevocably from the only one I loved, and by whom I had reason to think my affection was returned. In that home to which i. should have looked for fondness I found only gloom and mis- fortune: my mother grown insensible to everything save some frivolous narrative of her own health ; my fifther, once high- spirited and freehearted, care-worn, depressed, and broken; my cousin, my early ])lay-f'ellow, half sweetheart and half sister, bestowing her heart and affections on one so unworthy of her. All lost to me : and at a time, too, when the heart is too weak and tender to stand alone, but must cling to something, or it sinks upon the earth, crushed and trodden upon. I looked back upon my past life, and thought over the happy hours I had passed in the wild west, roaming through its deep valleys and over its heath-clad mountains. I thought of her my companion through many a long summer-day along the rocky shore, against which the white waves were ever beating, 332 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. watching the sea-birds careering full many a fathom deep below us, mixing their shrill cries with the wilder plash of the ever rest- less sea; and how we dreamed away those hours, now half in sadness, now in bright hope of long years to come, and found ourselves thus wandering hand in hand, loved and loving; and then I looked out upon the bleak world before me, without an object to win, without a goal to strive at. '■ Come, Jack," said my father, laying his hand on my shoulder, and startling me out of my reverie, " one piece of good fortune we have had. The duke has given me the com- mand at Chatham : some hint of my altered circumstances, it seems, had reached him, and without my applying, he most kindly sent for me and told me of my appointment. You miist join the service companies of the twenty-seventh by to-morrow : they are under sailing orders, and no time is to be lost. I told his grace that for all your soft looks and smooth chin there was no lack of spirit in your heart; and you must take an eagle. Jack, if you would keep up my credit." Laughingly-spoken as these few words were, they somehow struck upon a chord that had long lain silent in my heart, and as suddenly awoke in me the burning desire for distinction, and the ambitions thirst of military glory. The next evening at sunset the transport weighed anchor and stood out to sea. A slight breeze off shore, and an ebb-tide, carried us gently away irom land, and as night was falling I stood a,lone, leaning on the bulwarks, and looking fixedly on the faint shadows of the tall chalk cliffs, my father's last words, " You must take an eagle, Jack ! " still ringing in my ears, and sinking deeply into my heart. Had my accidents by Hood and field been more numerous and remarkable than they were, the recently-told adventures of my friend Charles O'Malley would prevent my giving them to the pubHc. The subaltern of a marching regiment — a crack corps, it is true — I saw merely the ordinary detail of a campaigning life; and although my desire to distinguish myself rose each day higher, the greatest extent of my renown went no farther than the admiration of my comrades, that one so delicately nurtured and brought up should bear so cheerfully and well tha roughings of a suldier's life; and my sobriquet of "Jack Hiuton, ihe Guarilsman," was earned among the stormy scenes and blood-stained fields of the Peninsula. ]My first experiences of military life were indeed but little odicouraging. I joined the army in the disastrous retreat from Burgos. What a shock to all my cherished notions of a cam- paign ! How sadly diff"erent to my ideas of the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! I remember well we first cume up with the retiring forces on the morning of the -ith of JACK lUNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 333 November. The day broke heavily — massea of dark and weighty cloud drifted across tlie sky. Tlie ground waa soaked with rain, and a cold, chilling wind swept across the bleak plain, and moaned dismally in the dark pine woods. Our party, wliich consisted of drafts from the fiftieth, tsventy-scventh, and seventy first re;.^iinents, were stationed in a few miserable hovels on the Bide of the high-road from Madrid to Labeyos. By a mistake of the way, we had missed a body of troops on the preceding day, and were now halted herein expectation of joining some of the corps retiring on the Portuguese frontier. Soon after day- break a low rumbling sound, at first supposed to be the noise of distant cannonading, attracted our attention •, but some stragglers coming up soon after, informed us that it proceeded from tumbrels and ammunition-waggons of Sir Lowry Cole's brigade then on the march. The news was scarcely communi- cated, when the head of a column appeared topping the hill. As they came nearer, we remarked that the men did not keep their ranks, but strayed across the road from side to side; some carried their muskets by the sling, others on the shoulder ; some leant on their companions, as though faint and sick ; and many there were whoso savage looks and bloated features denoted drunkenness. The uniforms were torn and ragged, several had no shoes, and some even had lost their caps and shakos, and wore handkerchiefs bound round their heads. Among these the officers were almost unJistiiiguishable — fatigue, hardship and privation had levelled them with the men ; and discipline scarcely remamed m that disorganized mass. On they came, their eyes bent only on the long vista of road that lay before them. Some, silent and sad, trudged on side by side; others, maddened by drink or wild with the excitement of fever, uttered frightful and horrible ravings. Some flourished their bayonets, and threatened all within their reach; and denunciations of their oilicers, and open avowals of desertion were heard on every side as they went. The bugle sounded a halt as the column reached the little hamlet where we were stationed ; and in a few seconds the road and the fields at either side were covered by the figures of the men, who threw themselves down on the spot whi;re they stood, in every posture that weariness and exhaustion could suggest. All the information we could collect was, that this force formed part of the rearguard of the army ; that the French under Marshal Soult were hotly in pursuit, having already driven in the cavalry outposts, and more tlian once throwing their skirmishers amongst our fellows. In a few minutes tht> bugle again sounded to resume the march; and however littlo disposed to yield to the dictates, of discipline, old habit, strong-M' than even lawless insubordination, prevailed— the men rose, ac J 1 A 334 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. falling in with some semblance of order, continued their way. [Nothing struck me more in that motley mass of ragged uniform and patched clothing than the ferocious, almost savage expres- sion of the soldiers as they marched past our better equipped and better disciplined party. Their dark scowl betokened deadly hate ; and I could see the young men of our detachment quail beneath the insulting ruffianism of their gaze. Every now and then some one or other would throw down his pack or knap- sack to the ground, and with an oath asseverate his resolve to carry it no longer. Some even declared they would abandon their musqxiets; and more than one sat down by the way side, preferring death or imprisonment from the enemy to the horrors and severities of that dreadful march. The Highland regiments and the Guards alone preserved their former discipline; the latter, indeed, had only lately joined the army, having landed at Corauna a few weeks previously, and were perfect in every species of equipment. Joining myself to a group of their officers, I followed in the march, and was enabled to learn some tidings of my friend O'Grady, who, I was glad to hear, was only a few miles in advance of us, with his regiment. Towards three o'clock we entered a dark pine wood, through which the route continued for several miles. Here the march became extremely difficult, from the deep, clayey soil, the worn and cut up road, and more than all the torrents of rain that swept along the narrow gorge, and threw a darkness almost like night over everything. We plodded on gloomily, and scarcely speaking, when suddenly the galloping of horses was heard in the rear, and we were joined by Sir Edward Paget, who, with a single aide-de-camp, rode up to our division. After a few hurried questions to the officer in command, he wheeled his horse round, and rode back towards the next column, which, from some accidental delay, was yet two miles in the ^ear. The sound of the horse's hoofs were still ringing along the causeway, when a loud shout, followed by the sharp reports of pistol-firing, mingled with the voice. In an instant all was as still as before, and save the crashing of the pine branches and the beating rain, no other sound was heard. Our conjectures as to the cause of the firing were just making, when an orderly dragoon, bare-headed and wounded, came up at the top of his horse's speed. The few hurried words he spoke in a half whisper to our commanding officer were soon reported through the lines. Sir Edward Paget, our second in command, had been taken prisoner, carried away by a party of French cavalry, who were daring enough to dash in between the columns, which in no other retreat had they ventured to approach. JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 335 The temerity of our enemy, added to our own dispirited and dcl'cncclobs condition, was the only thinj; wanting to coinplt-to our gloom and depression, and the march was now resumed in the dogged sullenness of despair. Day followed eared in the darkness, when a losv rumbling noise, like the booming of distant thunder, seemed to creep along the ground. Then came • a rattling volley, as if of small arms; and at last the whole horizon burst into a red glare, which forked up from earth to sky, with a crash that seemed to shake the very ground beneath us. Masses of dark, misshapen rock sprung into the blazing nicy ; millions ujion millions of sparks glittered through the air, and a cry, like the last expiring wail of a drowning crew, roso above all other sounds — and all waa still. The ilame waa gone 344 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. — the gloomy darkness had returned— not a sound was heard — • but in that brief moment four hundred of the French army met their graves beneath the castle of Burgos, which in their hurried retreat they had blown up, without apprizing the troops, who were actually marching beneath its very walls. Our route was now resumed in silence — even the levity of the French soldiers had received a check ; and scarcely a word passed as we rode on through the gloomy darkness, anxiously looking for daybreak, to learn something of the country about us. Towards sun-rise we found ourselves at the entrance of a mountain pass traversed by the Ebro, which in some places almost hlled the valley, and left merely a narrow path between its waters and the dark cliffs that frowned above. Here we proceeded; sometimes in single file — now tracing the signs of the retreating force which had just preceded us — now lost m astonishment at the prodigious strength of the position thus abandoned. But even these feelings gave way before a stronger one — our admiration of the exquisite beauty of the scenery. Glen after glen was seen opening as we advanced into this wide valley, each bearing its tributary stream to the mighty Ebro v the clear waters reflecting the broken crags, the waving foliage, and the bright verdure that beamed around, as orange trees, laurels, and olives bent over the current, or shot up in taper spires towards the clear blue sky. How many a sheltered nook we passed, with an involuntary longing to rest and linger among scenes so full of romantic beauty. But already the din of the retreating column was borne towards us on the breeze; the heavy, monotonous roll of large guns and caissons — while now and then we thought we could catch the swell of martial music blending through the other sounds. But soon we came up with waggons carrying the wounded and sick, who, having joined by another road, had fallen to the rear of the march. From them we learned that the King of Spain, Joseph himself, was with the advanced guard; that the destination of the forces was Viitcna, where a junction with the corps d'armee of the other generals being effected, it was decided on giving battle to the Anglo- Spanish army. As we advanced, our progress became slower and more difficult, close columns of infantry blocked up the road, or dense masses of cavalry, with several hundred led horses and baggage mules, prevented all chance of getting forward. Gradually, however, the valley widened, the mountain became less steep, and by evening we reached a large plain, closed towards the north-east by lofty mountains, which I learned were the Pyrenees, and beheld, in the far distance, the tall spires of the city of Vittoria. Several roada crossed the plain towards the city, all of which JACK HIXTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 341; were now crowded with troops — some presaiup on in the direction ot the town ; others were taking up their j.osilion, and throwing up hasty embankments and stockades. Meanwhile the loaded waggons, with the spoil of the rich convent--, and the royal treasure, were seen wending their slow way beneath the walls of Vittoria, on the road to Bayonne, escorted by a strong cavalry force, whose bright helmets and breastplates pronounced them " Cuirassiers de la Garde." The animation and excitement of the whole scene was truly intense, and as 1 rode along beside the corporal, 1 listened with eagerness to his account of the various regiments as they passed hither and thither and took up their position on the wide plain. "There, look yonder," said he, " where that dark mass is defiling beside the pine wood — see liow they break into parties — watch them how they scatter along the low bank beside the stream under shelter of the brush- wood . there were eight hundred men in that battalion— where are they now? all concealed — they are the tirailleurs of the army . and see on that low mound above them where the Hag 13 Hying, the guns are about to occupy that height. I was right, you see, there they come, six, seven, eight pieces of heavy metal : sacre bleu, that must be a place of some consequence." " What are the troops yonder with the red tufts in their caps, and scarlet trousers ? " '■ All ! par bleu ! your countrymen will soon know to their cost — they are the ' Infanterie de la Garde:' there's not a man in tlie column you are looking at, wlio is not dvcore." " Look at this side, monsieur — see the Chasseurs h. Cheval," said Annette, putting lier hand on my arm, while her bright eyes glanced proudly at the glittering column which advanced by a road near us — coming along at a sharp trot — their equip- ment clattering — their horses highly conditioned — and the splendid uniform of light blue and silver giving them a most martial air. '• Bah ! " said the corporal contemptuously, " these are the dragoons to my taste;" so saying, he pointed to a dark column of heavy cavalry who led heir horses slowly along by a narrow causeway; the long black horse hair trailed from their dark helmets with something of a gloomy aspect, to which their riowing cloaks of deep blue added. " Les Cuirassifrs de Milkaads , — but look — look yonder — fonnere de cicl — see that." The object to which my attention was now directed was a park of artillery that covered the whole line of road from the Miranda pass to the very walls of Vittoria. "Two hundred, at least," exclaimed he, after counting some twenty or thirty of the foremost. Ventre bleu ! what chance have you before the batteries of the guard ? " As he spoke, the drums beat across the wide plain ; a continuous dull roll 346 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. murmured along the ground — it ceased — tlie trumpets brayed forth a call — a clanging crash followed, and I saw that the musquets were brought to the shoulder, as the bayonets glanced in the sun, and the sharp sabres glittered along the squadrons. For a second or two all was still, and then the whole air was rent with a loud cry of Vive le Roi ! — while a mounted party rode slowly from the left, and, entering one of the gates of the city, disappeared from our sight. Night was now beginning to iall, as we wended our way slowly along towards the walls of Vittoria; it being the corporal's intention to deliver his prisoner into the hands of the " etat major " of Marshal Jourdan. CHAPTER LIII. VITTORIA. What a contrast to the scene without the walls did the city of Vittoria present. Scarcely had we left behind its the measured tread of moving battalions, the dark columns of winding cavalry, when we entered streets brilliantly lighted ; gorgeous and showy equipages turned everywhere, music resounded on all sides — • servants in splendid liveries made way for ladies in all the elegance of evening dress, enjoying the delicious coolness of a southern climate at sunset — groups of officers in full uniform chatted with their fair friends from the balconies of the large majestic houses. The sounds of gaiety and mirth were heard from every open lattice, and the chink of the Castanet, and the proud step of the fandango, echoed around us. Women, dressed in all the perfection of Parisian coquetry, loitered along the streets, wondering at the strange sights the Spanish city aftbrded : themselves scarcely less objects of wonder to the dark-eyed senhoras, who, with close drawn mantillas, peered cautiously around them to see the strangers. Young French officers swaggered boastfully about, with the air of conquerors, while now and then some tall and swarthy Spaniard JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 347 might be seen lowring with gloomy frown from under the broad shadow of his sombrero, as if doubling the evidence of his own senses, ertaining to a convent. As day broke I eagerly took my place at the casement to watch what was going on without ; but except some bare-headed figure of a monk gliding along l)etween the darl: yew avenues, or some female in deep mourning passing to her morning's devotions beside the grave of a relative, I could see nothing; a deep silence seemed to brood over the city, so lately the scene of festivity and mirth. Towards four o'clock, however, I could hear the distant roll of drums, which gradually extended from the extreme right to the left of the plain before the town ; then I heard the heavy mono- tonous tramp of marching, broken occasionally by the clank of the brass bands of the cavalry, or the deep sullen thunder of the artillery waggons, as they moved along over the paved roads ; the sounds came gradually nearer; the trumpets too joined the clamour with the shrill reveille, and soon the streets towards the front of the prison re-echoed with the unceasing clatter of troops moving forward. I could hearthe voices of the oOicers calling to the men to move up; heard more than once the names of particular regiments, as some distinguished corps were passing ; the music of the bands was quick and inspiriting, and as some jiopular air was struck up, the men would break forth suddenly into the words, and the rough-voiced chorus rang through the narrow streets, and fell heavily en my own heart, as I lay there a prisoner. Hour after hour did this continue; but yet the silence behind remained as unbroken as ever; the lonely churchyard with its dark walka and sad-looking trees was still and deserted. By degrees the din in front diminished ; regiments passed now only at intervals, and their pace increased to a run, left no time for the bands ; the cavalry too trotted rapidly by, and at last all was still as in the gloomy street before me. It was now eight o'clock, and no summoii.3 had yet come to me, altliough I had heard myself the order for our marching on the Bayonne- road by sunrise ; the prison was still as tbo grave, not a step >3- yACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAM. could I hear — not a bolt nor a hinge creaked ; I looked to the window, but the strong iron grating that defended it. left no prospect of escape ; the door was even stronger, and there was no chimney. Sometimes the thought occurred to me that the party had forgotten me, and had gone away with the other prisoners ; this thought somehow had its consolation ; but the notion of being felt to starve came suddenly across me, and I hastened to the window to try and make m3'self known to some chance passer- by ; just then the loud boom of a gun struck upon my ear; another followed, louder still ; and then a long heavy crashing noise, which rose and fell as the wind bore it, told me that the Avork of death had begun. The sound of the large guns, which at tirst came only at intervals, now swelled into one loud con- tinuous roar that drowned all other noise : the strong frames of the window's shook, and the very ground beneath my feet seemed to tremble with the dreadful concussion of the artillery ; sometimes the din would die away for a few seconds, and then, as the wind freshened, it would swell into a thunder so loud as to make me think the battle was close to where I stood. Hour after hour did this continue : and now, although the little street beside me was thronged with many an anxious group, I no longer thought of questioning them ; my whole soul was wrapped up in the one thought, that of the dreadful engagement ; and as 1 listened, my mind was carrying on with itself some fancied picture of the fight, with no other guide to my imaginings than the distant clangour of the battle; now I thought that the French were advancing ; that their battery of guns had opened ; and I could imagine the dark mass that moved on, their tall shakos and black belts peering amidst the smoke that lay densely m the field. On they poured thousand after thousand; ay, there goes the fusilade : the platoons are firing ; b>it now they halt! the crash of fixing bayonets is heard; a cheer breaks forth; theclond IS rent; the thick smoke is severed as if by a lightning flash ; the red coats have dashed through at the charge; the enemy waits not; the line wavers and breaks; down come the cavalry, like an eagle on the swoop; but again the dread artillery opens ; the French form beneath the lines, and the fight is renewed. The fever of my mind was at its height ; I paced my room with hurried steps, and, springing to the narrow casement, held my ear to the wall to listen. Forgetting where I was, I called out as though at the head of my company, with the wild yell of the battle around me, and the foe before me; suddenly the crowd beneath the window broke ; the crash of cavalry equip- ments resounded through the street, and the head of a squadron of cuirassiers came up at a trot, followed, by a train of baggage JACK IILXTON, THE GCARDSMAX. 353 wapffOTis, witli six horses to each ; the drivers whipped and Bpurred their cattle, and all betokened haste. From tiie strength of the f^uard, and the appearance of the waggons, I conjectured tliat tliey were tlie treasures of the arn:y ; an ojiinion in which I was strengthened by the word " Bayoune " chalked in large letters on a chest thrown on the top o^ a carriage. Some open waggons followed, in which the invalids of tho army la}', a pale and sickly mass, their lack-lustre eyes gazed heavily around with a stii]iid wonder, like men musing in a dream — even they, however, had arms given them, such was tho dread of falling into the hands of the guerilla bands, who infested the mountain passes, and never gave quarter, even to tho wonndod and the dying. The long lile at length passed, but only to make way for a still longer procession of Spanish prison- ers, who, bound wrist to wrist, marched between two iiles of mounted gensdarmcs, the greater number of these were moun- taineers, guerillas ot the south, condemned to the galleys for life, their bronzed faces and stalwart figures a striking contrast to their pale and emaciated companions, the inhabitants of the towns, who could scarce drag their weary limbs along, and seemed at every step ready to sink between misery and privation. The ribald jests and coarse language of the soldiers were always addressed to these, there seeming to be a kind of respect for the bolder guerillas, even in the hour of their captivity. The tramp of led horses, the roll of waggons, the cracking of whips, mingled with the oaths of muleteers, and the fainter cries of the sick, now tilled the air, and only occasionally did the loud cannonade rise above them : from every window faces appeared turned with excited eagerness towards the dense crowds; and though 1 could perceive that inquiries as to the fate of the day were constantly made and answered, my ignorance of Spanish prevented my understanding what was said. The noise in front of the prison, where tlie thoroughfare was wider and larger, far exceeded that around me; and at last I could hear the steps of persons marching over-head, and ascend- ing and descending the stairs. Doors clapped and slammed on every side ; when, suddenly, the door of my own cell was shaken violently, and a voice cried out in French — " Try this; I passed twice without perceiving it." The next moment the lock turned, and my room was filled with dragoons, their uniforms sjilashed and dirty, and evidently bearing the marks of a long and severe march. " Are you the Guerilla Guiposcoade Condeiga? " said one oZ the party, accosting me, as I stood wrapped up in my cloak. " No; I am an English othcer." " Show your epaulettes, then," said another, who kqew that Spanish officers never wore such, 354 JACK H/NTON, THE GUARDSMAN. I opened my cloak. "When the sight of my red noiform at once satisfied them. At this instant a clamour of voices with- out was heard, and several persons called out, " We have him ; here he is." The crowd around me rushed forth at the sound ; and, following among them, I reached the street, now jammed up with horse and foot, waggons, tumbrils and caissons — some endeavouring to hasten forward towards the road to Bayonne; others as eagerly turned towards tho plain of Vittoria, where the deafening roll of artillery showed the tight was at its fiercest. The dragoons issued forth, dragging a man amongst them whose enormous stature and broad chest towered above the others, but ■who apparently made not the slightest resistance as they hurried him forward, shouting, as they went, "^4 la grand place ! — a la place ! " It was the celebrated Guerilla Guiposcoa, who had distin- guished himself by acts of heroic daring, and sometimes savage cruelty, towards the French — and who had fallen into their hands that morning. Anxious to catch a glance at one of whom I had heard so often — I pressed forward among the rest, and soon fourd myself in the motley crowd of soldiers and towns people that hurried towards the Plaza. Scarcely had I entered the square when the movement of the multitude was arrested, and a low, whispering murmur succeeded to the deafening shouts of vengeance and loud cries of death I had heard before ; then came the deep roll of a muffled drum ; I made a strong effort to press forward, and at length reached the rear of a line of dismounted dragoons who stood leaning on their carbines — their eyes steadily bent on a figure some twenty paces in front. He was leisurely employed in divesting himself of some of his clothes ; which, as he took off, he piled in a little heap beside him ; his broad guerilla hat, his dark cloak, his sheep's wool jacket slashed with gold, fell one by one from his hand; and his broad manly chest at last lay bare, heaving with manifest pride and emotion, as he turned his dark eyes calmly around him. Nothing was now heard in that vast crowd save when some low, brolcen sob of grief would burst from the close-drawn mantillas of the women, as they offered up their heartfelt prayers for the soul of the patriot. A. low parapet wall, surmounted by an iron railing, closed in this part of the Plaza, and separated it from a deep and rapid river that flowed beneath — a branch of the Ebro. Beyond, the wide plain of Vittoria stretched away towai'ds the Pyrenees ; and although two leagues distant the scene of the battle was discernible, from the heavy mass of cloud that lowered over head, and the deep booming of the guns, that seemed to make the air tremulous. The Spaniard turned his calm look towards the battle-field, JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 355 and for an instant liis dark eye flashed back upon bia foes with ,an expression of triunijihatit daring, wliich seemed as it were to say — I am avenc;ed already ! A cry of impatiencii burst from the crowd of f-oldicrs, and the crash of their firelocks threa1en(nl that they would not wait longer for his blood. IJut the guerilla's manner changed at once; and holding up a small ebony cruci- fix before him, he seemed to ask a moment's respite for a short prayer. The stillness showed his request was complied with : he iuriied his back towards the crowd, and ]>lacing the crucifix on 1 1ll' low para)iet, he bent down on both his knees, and seemed I"st, in his devotions. Ashe rose I thought I could perceive that he threw a glance, rajiid as lightning, over the wall towards the river that flowed beneath. lie now turned fully round; and unfastening the girdle of many a gay colour that he wore round his waist, he threw it carelessly on his left arm ; .and then, baring his breast to the full, knelt slowly down, and with his arms wide apart called out in Spanish, "here is my life — come take it." The words were scarcely uttered, when the carl)ines clanked as they brought .hem to tlie shoulder; the serjeant of the couijiany called out the words " donnez" — a pause — "Jeit, ?" The fusilade rung out, and, as my eyes pierced the smoke, I could see that the guerilla had fallen to the earth, his arms crossed upon his bosom. A shriek wild and terrific burst from the crowd. The blue smoke slowly rose, and I perceived the French serjeant stand- ing over the body of the guerilla, which lay covered with blood xipon the turf. A kind of convulsive spasm seemed to twitch the limbs, upon which the Frenchman drew his sabre— tlie rattle of the steel scabbard rang through my heart; the bright weapon glanced as he raised it above his head, at the same instant the guerilla chief sprang to his legs, he tottered as he did so, for I could see that his left arm hung powe/less at his side: but his ri'^^ht held a longpoinard. He threw himself upon the Frenchman's bosom — a yell followed, and the same moment the guerilla sjirang over the battlements, and with a loud splash dropped into the river beneath. The water had scarce covered his body, as the Frenchman fell a corpse upon the ground. • A perfect roar of madness and rage burst from the French soldiers, as, rushing to the para[iet, a hundred balls swept the surface of the river; but the tall reeds of the bank had already concealed the bold guerilla, whose left arm had receivedthe firo of the soldiers, who now saw the meaning of that quick move- ment by which he had thrown his girdle around it. The in ci- dent was but the work of a few brief moments; nor was 1 lure longer time to think on it: for suddenly a squadron of cavalry swept past at the full speed of their horses, calling out 3S6 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. the words " place there— make way there in front. The ambu- lance — the ambulance ! " A low groan of horror rose around ; the quick retreat of the wounded betokened that the battle was goiug against the French ; the words " beaten and retreat ' re-echoed through the crowd ; and as the dark suspicion crept amid the moving mass, the first waggon of the wounded slowly turned the angle of the square, a white flag hung above it. 1 caught but one glance of the sad convoy: but never shall I forget that spectacle of blood and agony. Torn and mangled they lay, an indiscriminate heap ; their faces b'ackened with powder, their bodies shattered with wounds. High above the other sounds their piercing cries rent the air- — with mingled blasphemies and insane ravings. Mean- while tha drivers seemed only anxious to get forward ; as deaf to every prayer and entreaty, they whipped their horses and called out to the crowd to make way. Escape was now open ; but where could I go ? My uniform exposed me to immediate detection ; should I endeavour to con- ceal myself, discovery would be my death. The vast tide of people that poured along the streets was a current too strong to stem, and I hesitated what course to follow. My doubts wei-e soon resolved for me: an officer of General Oudinot's staff, who had seen me the previous night, rode up close to where I stood, and then turning to his orderly, spoke a few hurried words. The moment after, two heavy dragoons, in green uniform and brass helmets, came up, one at either side of me; without a second's delay one of them unfastened a coil of small rope that hung at his saddle-bow, which with the assistance of the other was passed over my right wrist and drawn tight. In this way, secured like a malefactor, I was ordered ibrward. In vain I remonstrated— in vain I told them I was a British officer ; to no purpose did I reiterate that hitherto I had made no effort to escape. It is not in the hour of defeat Frenchmen can behave either with humanity or justice. A volley of ' sacres' was the only answer I received, and nothing was left me but to yield. Meanwhile the tumult and confusion of the town was in- creasing every minute. Heavy waggons — inscribed in large letters, '' Bomaine exterieure de sa Majeste VEmpcrcur " — con- taining the jewels and treasures of Madrid, passed by, drawn by eight, sometimes ten horses, and accompanied by strong cavalry detachments. Infantry regiments, blackened with smoke and gunpowder, newly arrived from the field, hurried past to take up positions on the Bayonne road to protect the retreat; then came the nearer din and crash of the artillery as the French army were falling back upon the town. Scarcely had we issued from the walls of the city, when the whole scene of flight and ruin was presented to our eyes, The JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 357 country for miles round was one niovinp mass of fngitivos — cannuii, \vap;,'oii8, tumbrils, wounded Koldicrs. liorsomen, and even splendid e(iuipa(,'es, were all mixed np to<^etlier on the Fampeluna road which lay to our riglit. The march was there intercepted by an overturned wapgon — the horses were [ilnng- in<^, and the cries of wounded men coidd be heard even where we were. The tielus at each side of the way were soon spread over by the crowd, eager to press on. Guns were now abandoned and tlirown into ditches and ravines; the men broke tlieir muskets, and threw the fragments on the road-side, and vast niagazines of powder were exploded here and there through the j)lain. l}ut my attention was soon drawn to objects more irnmedi- alel>' beside me. The Bayonne road, which we now rcMched, was the last hope of the retiring armj'. To maintain this line of retreat, strong detachments of infantry, supported by heavy guns, were stationed at every eminence commanding the jiosition ; but the swoojiing torrent of the retreat had left little time for these to form — many of whom were borne along with the Hying army. Discipline gave way on every side — the men sprang upon the waggons, refusing to march — the treasures were broken open and thrown upon the road. Frequently the baggage-guard interchanged shots and sabre-cuts with the infuriated soldiers, who only thought of escape; and the ladies, who but yesterday were the objects of every care and solicitude, wore hurri«d along amid that rude multitude, some on foot, others glad to bo allowed to take a place in the ambulance among the wounded — their dresses blood-stained and torn, adding to the horror and misery of the scene. Such was the prospect before us. Beliind a dark mass hovered as if even yet withstanding the attack of the enemy, whose guns thundered clearer and clearer every moment. Still the long line of wounded came on — some in wide open carts, others stretched upon the gun-carriages, mangled and bleeding. Among these my attention was drawn to one whose head having fallen over the edge of the cart, was en- dangered by every roll of the heavy wheel that grazed his very skuil. There was a halt, and I seized the moment to assist the poor fellow as he lay thus in peril. His helmet had fallen l>ack and was merely retained by the brass chain beneath his cliin : his temples were actually cleft open by a sabre-cut, and I could see that he had also received some shot-wounds in the side, where he pressed his hands, the blood welling up between the fingers. As I lifted the head to place it within the cart, the eyes opened and turned fully upon me. A faint smile of gratitude curled his lip; I bent over him, and, to my horror, recogni/.od in the mangled and shattered form before me— the gaUant 358 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. fellow with whom the very nifrht before I had formed almost a friendship. The word "cold," muttered between his teeth, was the only answer I could catch, as I called him by his name. The order to march rang out Irom the head of the convoy, and I had barely time to unfasten my cloak, and throw it over hira, ere the waggon moved on. I never saw him after. A squadron of cavalry now galloped past, reckless of all before them ; the traces of the artillery were cut, and the men, mounting the horses, deserted the guns, and rode for their lives. In the midst of the Hying mass, a sjilendid equipage flew past, its six horses lashed to madness by the postillions ; a straggling guard of honour galloped at either side, and a grand ecuyer in scarlet, who rode in front, called out incessantly, " PZace — idace ; jjour sa majeste ; but all to no purpose: the road, blocked up by broken waggons dense crowds of horse and foot, dead and dying, soon became impassable. An effort to pass a heavily- loaded waggon, entangled the coach : the axle was caught b}'' the huge waggon — the horses plunged when they felt the re- straint, and the next moment the royal carriage was hurled over on its side, and fell with a crash into the ravine at the road-side. While the ofhcera of his staff dismounted to rescue the fallen monarch, a ribald burst of. laughter rose from the crowd, and a pioneer actually gave the butt of his carbine to assist the king as, covered with mud, he scrambled up the ditch. I had but an instant to look upon his pale countenance, which even since the night before seemed to have grown many years older, ere I was myself dragged forward among the crowd. Darkness now added its horror to the scene of riot and con- fusion ; the incessant cries of the fugitives told that the English cavalry were upon them ; the artillery came closer and closer, and the black sky was traversed by many a line of fire, as the shells poured down upon the routed army; the English guns, regardless of roads, dashed down on the terrified masses, raining balls and howitzer-shells on every side. Already the cheers of n)y gallant countrymen were within my hearing, and amid all the misery and danger around me, my heart rose proudly at the glorious victoiy they had gained. Meanwhile my escort, whose feeling towards me became more brutal as their defeat was more preceptible, urged me forward with many an oath and imprecation. Leaving the main road, we took the fields, already crowded with the infantry. At last, as the charges of the English came closer, they seemed to hesitate upon being any longer burthened by me, and one, after interchanging some angry words with his companion, rode off, leaving me to the care of him who passed the cord round my 'JACK ir/NTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 359 wrist. For a second or two this fillow seenu'd to waver whether liu iniglit not dispose of me more brieliy, and once he half witli- drew liis pistol from the holster, and turned round in his saddle to n-gard me more steadily ; abetter feelinj^, however, j^ained the itiastcry ; the hope, too, of nromolion, could he bring in an officer his prisoner, had doubtless, its share in his decision. He oruert'd me to jump up behind him, and, dashing spurs into his troip horse, rode furward. 1 have, i^erhap-;, lingi-rcd too long in my recollections of this eventful night; it was however, the last striking incident which preceded a long captivity. On the third day of the retreat I was joined to a band of Spanish prisoners marching towards B.iyonne. Of the glorious victory whicli rescued the i'eninsula from the dominion of the French, and drove their beaten armies beyond the Pyrenees, or of the great cni'rent of events which fol- luwed the battle of A'ittoria, I do not purpose to speak. Neither will I trouble my reader with a narrative of hard>hip and suf- fering; it is enough to mention that my refusal to give my parole, subjected me in all cases to every indignity. Wearied out at length, I accepted this only chance of render- ing life endurable : and on reaching Bayonne, gave my word not to attempt my escape, and was accordingly separated from my companions in misfortune, and once more treated as a gen- tleman. The refusal to accept " parole," I learned afterwards, was in- variably construed by the French authorities of the day into a direct avowal not only to attempt escape by any means that might present themselves, but was also deemed a rejection of the hospitality of the country, which placed the recusant beyond the pale of its courtesy. No sooner, then, had I complied vfith this necessity — for such it was — than I experienced the greatest kinttness and politeness in every quarter. Through every village in the south, the house of the most respectable inhabitant was alsvays opened to me; and with a delicacy it would be difficult to match elsewhere, althougli the events of the Spanish war were the subjects of general interest wherever we passed, not a word was spoken nor a hint dropped before the " prisoner," which could in the slightest degree offend his nationality, or hurt his susceptibility as an enemy. ******* I shall now beg of my reader to pass over with me a long in- terval of time, during wlvich my life presented nothing of interest or incident, and accompany me to the environs of St. Omer, where, in the commencement of the year 181 1-, I found my.self domesticated as a prisoner of war on parole. During the long period that hid elapsed since the battle of Vittoria, 1 j6o JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAI^. had but once heard from home : matters there were pretty much as I had left them. My father had removed to a colonial appoint- ment, whence he transmitted the rich revenues of his office to my mother, whose habitual economy enabled her to dispense at Bath, much in the same kind of way as she had formerly done at London. My lovely cousin — in the full possession of her beauty and a large fortune — had refused some half-dozen brilliant proposals, and was reported to have an unswerving attachment to some near relative, which happy individual, my mother suggested, was myself. Of the Bellews, I learned from the newspaiDers that Sir Simon was dead ; and Miss Bellew, having recovered most of the great estates of her family through the instrumentality of a clever attorney — whom I guessed to be my friend Paul — was now the great hdle and fortune of Dublin. I had frequently written home, and once or twice to the Rooneys and the Major, but never received any answer ; so that at last I began to think myself forgotten by every one, and dreamed away my life in a state of almost ajiathy — dead to the exciting events of the campaign, which, even in the seclusion wiiere I lived, were from time to time reported. The brilliant march of our victorious troops through the Pyrenees and the south of France, Nivelle, Orthes, and Toulouse, I read of as people read of long past events ; life to me apj^eared to have run out; and my thoughts turned ever backward to the bright morning of my cai'eer in Ireland — ray early burst of manhood — my first and only passion. The old royalist seigneur upon whom I was billetted, could evidently make nothing of the stolid indifference with which I heard him and his antiquated spouse discuss the glorious pros- pect of a restoration of the Bourbons : even the hope of liberty was dying away within me. One ever-present thought had damped all ardour and all ambition — I had done nothing as a soldier— my career had ended as it begun — and, while others had risen to fame and honour, my name had won nothing of distinction and repute. Instead of anxiously looking forward to a meeting with Louisa Bellew, I dreaded the very thoughts of it. My mother's fashionable morgue and indifference I should now feel as a sarcasm on my own failure ; and as to my cousin Julia, the idea alone of her raillery was insufferable^. The only plan I could devise for the future was, as soon as I should re- cover my liberty, to exchange into some regiment in the East Indies, and never to return to England. It was, then, with some surprise, and not much sympathy, that I beheld my venerable host appear one morning at breakfast with a large white cockade in the breast of his frock coat, and a huge white lily in a wine glass before him. His elated manner and joyous looka ^ycrc all so many riddles to me j yACK JJJXIOX, -THE GUARDSMAA. 361 ifhilfi the roll of drums iii the peaceful little town, the rinjjing of bells, and the shouts of the inhabitutits, were all too much even for a])atliy like mine. " What is tlie T'mtnmarre about? "said I, pettishly, as I saw the old ffentlenian fidget from the table to the window and then back ajrain, rubliinjr his hands, admiring his cockade, and sinrlliiif^ at the lily, alternately. ■• Ttntiiniarre ! " said he, indignantl}", " savcz vn us, monsieur ? Ce ii'est j)«s le mot, celui-ld. We are restored, sir ! wc have regained our rightful throne ! we are no longer exiles ! " " Yes ! " said the old lady, bursting into the room, and throwing herself into her husband's arms, and then into mine, in a rapture of enthusiasm — " Yes, brave young man! to you and your victorious companions in arms wo owe the hap[)incs3 of this moment. We are restored." "Uiii! restored! restored!" echoed the old gentleman, throwing open the window, and shouting as though he would have burst a blood-vessel, while the mob without, catching up the cry, yelled it louder than ever. These people must be all deranged, thought I, unable to con- jecture at the moment the reasons for such extravagant joy. M^'an while, the room became crowded with townspeople, in holiday costume, all wearing the white cockade, aud e.xchanging with each other the warmest felicitations at the happy event. I now soon learned that the allies were in the possession of Paris, that Napoleon had abdicated, and the immediate return of Louis XVIII. was already decided upon. The trumpets of a cavalry regiment on the march were soon added to the uproar without, accompanied by cries of " The I'^nglish! " "The brave English ! " I ru.shed to the door, and, to my astonishment beheld above the heads of the crowd the tall caps of a British dragoon regiment towering aloft. Their band struck up as they approached ; and what a sensation did my heart experience as I heard the well-remembered air of " Garryowea " resound through the little streets of a French village. " An Irish regiment! " said I, half aloud. The word was caught by a by-stander, who immediately comtnnnicatod it to the crowd, addincr, by way of ex|)lanation, " Jji'S IiiiDidois ; oici, ces sont les Cossaques (VAnqleterrc" I could not help laughing at the interpretation, when suddenly my own name was called out loudly by some person from the ranks. I started at the sound, and, forcing my way through the crowd, I looked eagerly on every side, my heart beating with anxiety lest some deception might have misled me. " liinton ! Jack Ilinton !" cried the voice again. At the head of the regiment rode three oilicers, whose looks were bent steadily on me, while they seemed to enjoy my surprise and 363 JACK H IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. confusion. The oldest of the party, who rode between the two others, was a ]arr;e swarthy-looking man, with a long drooping moustache — at that time rarely worn by officers of our army. His left arm he wore in a sling; but his right was held in a certain easy, jaunty manner I could not soon forget. A burst of laughter broke from him at length, as he called out, — - " Come, Jack, you must remember me."' " What ! " cried I. " O'Grady !— is it possible." "Even so, my boy," said he, as, throwing his reins on his wrist, he grasped my hand and shook it with all his heart. " I knew you were here, and I exei'ted all my interest to get quartered near you. This is my regiment — eh? — not fellows to be ashamed of, Jack.P But come along with us; we mustn't part company now." Amid the wildest cries of rejoicing, and frantic demonstra- tions of gratitude from the crowd, the regiment moved on to the little square of the village. Here the billets were speedily arranged ; — the men betook themselves to their quarters — the officers broke into small parties — and O'Grady and myself re- tired to the inn, where, having dined tcte-a-tcte, we began the interchange of our various adventures since we parted. CHAPTER LV. THK FOUE,-IX-HAND. My old friend, save in the deeper brown upon his cheek, and some scars from French sabres, was nothing altered from the hour in which we parted ; the same bold generous temperanieni, the same blending of recklessness and deep feeling, the wild spirit of adventure, and the gentle tenderness of a child — were all mi.xed up in his complex nature, for he was every inch an Irishman. While the breast of his uniform glittered with many a cross and decoration, he scarcely ever alluded to his own feats in tho campaign ; nor did he more than passingly mention the actions B^s^ I ^ ^ A^' JACK JIIXTOy, THE CCARDSMAX. 3C3 whore his own conduct had been most conspicuous. Indeed, thiro was a reserve in his whole manner, wliilo speaking of tho peninsular battles, which I soon discovered ])roceeded from delicacy towards me, knowinj,' how little T had seen of service Iroin my early imprisonment, and fearing k-st, in the detail of the glorious career of our armies, he might be inflicting fresh wounds on one whose fortune forbade him to share in it. He often asked me about my father, and seemed to feel deeply the kindness he had received from hmi when in London. Of my mother, too, he sometimes spoke, but never even alluded to Lady .Julia ; and when once I spoke of her as the protector of Corny, lie tidgetted for a second or two, seemed uneasy and uncomfort- able, and gave me the impression that he felt sorry to be reduced to accept a favour for his servant, where he himself had been treated with coldness and distance. Apart from this — and it was a topic we mutually avoided — his spirits were as high as ever. Mixing much with the officers of his corps, he was actually beloved by them. lie joined in all their schemes of pleasure and amusement, with the zest of his own buoyant nature ; and tlie youngest cornet in the regiment lelt himself tl'.e colonel's inferior in the gaiety of the mess, as much as at the head of the squadrons. At the end of a few days, I received from Paris the papers necessary to relieve me from the restraint of my parole, and. was concerting with O'Grady the steps necessary to be taken to resume my rank in the service, when an incident occurred which altered all our plans for the moment, and, by one of those strange casualties which so often occur in life, gave a new current to my own fate for ever. I should mention here, that amid all the rejoicings which ushered in the restoration— amid all the llattery by which the allied armies were received — one jiortion of the royalists main- tained a dogged, ungenial spirit towards the men by whom their cause was rendered victorious, and never forgave them the honour of reviving a dynasty, to which they themselves had contributed nothing. These were t^e old militaires of Louis XVIIL: the men who, too proud or too good-for-nothing to accept service under the emperor, had lain dormant during the glorious career of the French armies, and who now, in their hour of defeat and adversity, start(;d into life as the representatives of the military genius of the country ;— these men, I say, hated the English with a vindictive animosity which the oldNapoleonist could not equal. Without the generous rivalry of an open foe, they felt themselves humbled by comparison with the soidiers, whose weather-beaten faces and shattered limbs bore token of a hundred battles, and for the very cause, too, for wliicli they themselves were the most interested. This ungenerous spirifc 364 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAS'. found vent for itself in a thousand petty annoyances, which were practised upon our troops in every town and village of the north of France; and every officer whose billet consigned him to the house of a royalist soldier, would gladly have exchanged his quarters for the companionship of the most inveterate follower of Napoleon. To an instance of what I have mentioned was owing the incident which I am about to relate. To relieve the ennui of a French village, the officers of the eighteenth had, with wonderful expenditure of skill and labour, succeeded in getting np a fcur-in-hand drag, which, to the astonishment and wonder of the natives, was seen daily wend- ing its course through the devious alleys and narrow streets of the little town, the roof covered with dashing dragoons, whose laughing faces and loud-sounding bugles were all deemed so many direct insults by the ill-conditioned party I have men- tioned. The unequivocal evidences of dislike they exhibited to this dashing "turn out" formed, 1 believe, one of its great attrac- tions to the eighteenth, who never omitted an occasion, whatever the state of the weather, to issue forth every day, with all the noise and uproar they could muster. At last, however, the old commissaire de police, whose indig- nation at the proceeding knew no bounds, devised an admirable expedient for annoying our fellows — one which, supported as it was by the law of the country, there was no possibility of evading. This was, to demand the passport of every officer who jiassed the '' barriere," thus necessitating him to get down from the roof of the coach, present his papers, and have them care- fully conned and scrutinized, their visee looked into, and all sorts of questions propounded. When it is understood that the only drive led through one or other of these barriers, it may be imagined how provoking and vexatious such a course of proceeding became. Representations were made to the mayor over and anon, explaining that the passports once produced, no further inconvenience should be incurred— but all to no purpose. Any one who knows France will acknowledge how totally inadequate a common-sense argu- ment is in the decision of a question before a government fnnctionary. The mayor, too, was a royalist, and the matter was decided against ns. Argument and reason having failed, the gallant eighteenth came to the resolution to try force, and accordingly it was de- cided that next morning we should charge the harriere in full gallop, as it was rightly conjectured that no French evijiloye would feel disposed to encounter the rush of a four-iu-hand, even with the law on his side. To render the coup-de-main more brilliant, and perhaps, too, jACk HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 365 to give an air of plausibility to the infraction, four dasliinfr thorouf^'lihrcd li^l't chestnuts— two of the number having never felt a collar in their lives — were harnessed for the occasion. A strong force of the wildest spirits of the regiment took their places on the roof; and amid a cheer that actually made the street ring, and a tantarara from the trumpets, the equipage dashed through the town, the leaders bounding with the swingle bars every mornent over their backs. Away we went, the populace flying in terror on every side, and every eye turned to- wards the hiirricre, where the dignified official stood, in the calm repose of his station, as if daring us to transgress his frontier. Already had be stepped forward with his accustomed question. The words — '■'■'Messieurs, je vous demande " had escaped his lips, when he had barely time to spring into his den, as the furious leaders tore past, the pavement crashing beneath their hoofs, and the shouts of laughter mingling with the uproar. Having driven for a league or so at a slow pace, to breathe our cattle, we turned homewards, rejoicing in the success of our scheme, which had fully satisfied our expectations. What was our chagrin, however, as we nearcd the barriere, to discover that a strong force of mounted gensdarraes stopped the way, their drawn sabres giving us plainly to understand the fate that awaited our horses if we persisted in our plan ! What was to be done ? To force a passage under the circumstances was only to give an opportunity to the gensdarmerie, they were long anxious for, to cut our whole equipage in pieces. To yield was the only alternative; but what an alternative! — to be laughed at by the whole town on the very day of our victory! " I have it ! " said O'Grady, whose left arm being wounded, sat on the box beside the driver; "I have it, lads. Pull up when they tell you, and do as they direct." With some difficulty, the four dashing nags were reined in, as we came up to the barriere; and the commissaire, bursting with passion, appeared at the door of the lodge, and directed us to get down. "Your passports will avail little on the present occasion," said he, insolently, as we produced our papers. " Your carriage and horses are confiscated. St. Omer has now privilege as a fortified town. The fortresses of France, enforce a penalty of forty thousand francs " A burst of laughter from the by- standers at our rueful faces prevented us hearing the remainder of the explanation. Meanwhile, to our horror and disgust, some half dozen gensdarmes, with their long caps and heavy boots, were crawling up the sides of the drag, and taking fheir seats upon the top. Some crept into the interior, and showed their grinning faces at the windows; others mounted into the rumble; and two more aspiring spirits ascended to the box, by one of C C 366 JACK HI NT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. whom O'Grady was rudely ordered to get down, a summons enforced by the coramissaire himself in a tone of considerable insolence, O'Grady's face for a minute or two seemed working with a secret impulse of fun and devilment, which I could not account for at such a moment, as he asked, in a voice of much humility — " Does monsieur the commissaire require me to come down ? " " Instantly ! " roared the Frenchman, whose passion was now boiling over. " In that case, gentlemen, take charge of the team." So say- ing, he handed the reins to the passive gensdarmes, who took them, without well knowing why. " I have only a piece of advice," continued Phil, as he slowly descended the side— "keep a steady hand on the near-side leader, and don't let the bar strike her ; and now, good-bye." He flourished his four-in-hand whip as he spoke, and with one tremendous cut came down on the team, from leader to wheeler, accompany- ing the stroke with a yell there was no mistaking. The heavy carriage bounded from the earth, as the infuriated cattle broke away at full gallop ; a narrow street and a sharp angle lay straight in front; but {q'^ of those on the drag waited for the turn : as at every step some bear-skin shako shot into the air, followed by a ttill figure, whose heavy boots seemed ill adapted for flying in. The corporal himself had abandoned the reins, and held on manfully by the rail of the box. On every side they fell, in every attitude of distress. But already the leaders reached the corner, round went the swingle bars, the wheelers followed, the coach rocked to one side, sprang clean off the pavement, came down with a crash, and then fell right over, while the maddened hcrses, breaking away, dashed through the town, the harness in fragments behind them, and the pavement flying at every step. The immediate consequences of this affair were some severe bruises, and no small discouragement to the gensdarmerie of St. Omer : the remoter ones, an appeal from the municipal 1 authorities to the commander-in-chief, by whom the matter was referred for examination to the adjutant-general. O'Grady was accordingly summoned to Paris, to explain, if he could, his conduct in the matter. The order for his appearance there came down at once, and I, having nothing to detain me at St. Omer, resolved to accompany my friend for a few days at least, before I returned to England. Our arrangements were easily made; and the same night we received the adju- tant-general's letter, we started by post for Paris. JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 367 CHAPTER LVI. ST. DENIS. We were both suddenly awakened from a sound sleep in the calcchc, by the loud crackiuf^ of the postillion's whip, the sound.s of street noises, and the increased rattle of the wheels over the unequal pavement. We started up just as, turning round in his saddle, and pointing with his long whip to cither side of him, the fellow called out — " Paris, Messieurs, Paris ! This is Faubourg St. Denis ; — there before you lies the Rue St. Denis. Sacristl, the streets are as crowded as at noon-day." By this time we had rubbed the sleep from our eyelids and looked about us, and truly the scene before us was one to excite all our astonishment. The Quartier St. Denis was then in the occupation of the Austrian troops, who were not only billetted in the houses, but bivouacked in the open streets — their horses piocpiettL'd in long files along the pave, the men asleep around their watch-lires, or burnishing arms and accoutrements beside them. The white-clad cuirassier from the Danube, the active and sinewy Hungarian, the tall and swarthy Croat, were all tliere, mixed up among groups of peasant girls coming in to market with fowls and eggs. Carts of forage and waggons full of all manner of provisions were surrounded by groups of soldiers and country people, ti-ading amicably together, as though the circumstances which had brought them together were among the ordinary events of commerce. Threading our way slowly through these, we came tipon the J;iger encampment, their dark green uniform and brown oar- bines giving that air of sombre to their appearance, so strikiug after the steel-clad cuirassier and the bright helmets of the dragoons. Further on, around a fountain, were a body of dis- mounted dragoons, their tall calpacks and scarlet trowsers bespeaking them Polish lancers — their small but beautifully formed white horses pawed the ground, and splashed the water round them, till the dust and foam rose high above them. But the strangest of all were the tall, gigantic tigures, who, stretched alongside of their horses, slept in the very middle of the wide 368 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. street. Lifting their heads lazily for a moment, they would gaze on us as we passed, and then lie down again to sleep. Their red beards hung in masses far down upon their breasts, and their loose trowsers of a reddish dye but half concealed boots of undressed skin. Their tall lances were piled around them ; but these were not wanting to prove that the savage, fierce-looking figures before us were the Cossacks of the Dun, thus come for many a hundred mile, to avenge the slaughter of Borodino and the burning of Moscow. As we penetrated farther into the city, the mixture of nation and costume became still more remarkable. The erect and soldier-like figure of the Prussian — the loose, wild-eyed Tartar — the brown clad Russian, with russet beard and curved sabre — the stalwart Highlamier, with nodding plume and waving tartan- — the Bashkir, with naked scimitar — the gorgeous hussar of Hungary — the tall and manly form of the English guardsman — passed and re-passed before us, adding, by the babel of discordant sound, to the wild confusion of the scene. It was a strange sight to see the savage soldier from the steppes of Russia — the dark-eyed, heavy-browed, Gallician — the yellow-haired Saxon — the rude native of the Caucasus — who had thus given themselves a "rendezvous " in the very heart of European civilization, wandering about— now stopping to admire some magnificent palace, now gazing with greedy wonder at the rich display of some jeweller, or the costly and splendid dresses which were exhibited in the shop windows ; while hei-e and there were gathered groups of men whose looks of undi.*guised hate and malignity were bent unceasingly upon the moving mass — their "bourgeois" dress could not conceal that they were the old soldiers of the empire — the men of Wagram, of Austerlitz, of Jena, and of Wilna, — who now witnessed within there own capital the awful retribution of their own triumphant aggressions. As the morning advanced the crowds increased, and as we ap- proached the'"Place du Carousel," regiments poured in from every street to the morning parade. Among these, the Russian garde — the Bonnets d'or — were conspicuous for the splendour of their costume and the soldier-like precision of their movements; the chisli of their brass cymbals, and the wild strains of their martial music, adding indescribably to their singular appearance. As the infantry drew up in line, we stopped to regard them, when, from the place Louis Quinze, the clear notes of a military band rang out a quick step, and the twenty-eighth British marched in to the air of " The Young May jNIoon." O'Grady'a excitement could endure no longer. Hejumped up in the caleche, and, waving his hat above his head, gave a chper that rang through the long corridor beneath the Louvre, 'J'h.' Irish regi- JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 369 ment caupht up the cry, and a yell as wild as ever rose above the din of battle shook the air. A Cossack picqiiet tlieii canter- ing up, suddenly halted, and, li-auing down upon llieir horses' manes, seemed to listen; and thun dasliing spurs into tlifir flanks, made the circuit of the place at full gallop, while their "Hurra!" burst forth with all the wild vehemence of their savage nature. " We shall get into some precious scrape with all this," said O'Grady, as, overcome with laughing, he fell back into the caleche. Such was my own opinion ; so, telling the postillion to turn short into the next street, we hurried away unpcrccived, and drove, with all the speed we could muster, for the Hue St. Honore. The Hotel de la Paix fortunately had room for us; and, ordering our breakfasts, we adjourned to dress, each re- solving to make the most of his few hours at Paris. I had just reached the breakfast-room, and was conning over the morning papers, when O'Grady entered, in full uniform, his face radiant with pleasure, and the same easy, juuuty swagger in his walk as on the first day I met him. " When do you expect to have your audienro, Phil ? " said I. " I have had it, my boy. It's all over, finished, completed. Never was anything so successful. I talked over the old adju- tant in such a strain, that, instead of dreaming about a court martial on us, the worthy man is seriously bent on our obtain- ing compensation for the loss of the drag. He looked somewhat serious when I entered; but when once 1 made him laugh, the game was my own. I wish you saw him Aviping his dear old eyes as I described the covey of gensdarmes taking the air. However, the main })oint is— the regiment is to be moved up to Paris, the commissaire is to receive a reprimand, our claim for some ten thousand francs is to be considered, and I am to dine with the adjutant today, and tell the story after dinner." " Do you know, Phil, I have a theory, that an Irishman never begins to prosper but just at the moment that any one else would surely be rained." " Don't make a theory of it, Jack, for it may turn out un- lucky. But the practice is pretty much what you represent it. Fortune never treats people so well as when they don't care a fig about her. She's exactly like a lady patroness — con- foundedly impertinent, if you'll bear it; but all smiles, if jyou won't, ilave you ever met Tom Burke — ' Burke of ours, as they call him, I believe, in half the regiments in the service? " "No; never." " Well, the loss is yours. Tom's a fine fellow in his way : and if you could get him to tell you his story — or rather one of his ptorJes, for his life is a succession of them — perhaps you would 370 JACK HI N TON, THE GUARDSMAN. find that this same theory of yours has some foundation. We'll pick him up one of these days, and I'll introduce you. But now, Jack, I have a piece of news for yon. What do you think of it, my lad? — Lady Charlotte Hinton's at Paris. " My mother here ? Is it possible ? " " Yes. Her ladyship resides No. 4, Place Vendomme, oppo- site the Hotel de Londres. There's accuracy for you." " And who is with her? My father ? " " No. The general is expected in a few days. Lady Julia, I believe, is her only companion." There was a kind of reserve suddenly in his manner, as he mentioned this name, which made us both pause for a few seconds. At length 0' Grady broke the awkwardness of the silence by saying, in his usual laughing way — " I contrived to pick up all the gossip of Paris in half an hour. The town is full of English — and such English too ! — the Cos- sacks are civilized people, of quist, retiring habits, compared to them. I verily believe the French are more fi'ightened by our conviviality than ever they were by the bayonets of the allies. I'm dying to hear your lady mother's account of everything here." " What say you, then, if you come along with me ? I'm be- coming very impatient to see my people once more. Julia will, I'm certain, be very amusing." " Ah ! and I have a debt of gratitude in that quarter," said O'Grady, hesitatingly. " Lady Julia was so veiy kind as to extend her protection to that old villain. Corny. I cannot for the life of me understand how she endured him." " As to that," said I, — " Julia has a taste for character ; and not even the Chevalier Delauy's eccentricity would pain her. So let's forward." " Did I tell you that De Vere is here ?" said O'Grady. "No ; not with my friends, I trust? " " On the contrary, I ascertained that he does not visit at Lady Charlotte's. He is attached to Lord Cathcart's embassy ; he's very little in society, and rarely to be seen but at the salon, where he plays tremendously high, loses every night, but re- appears each day with a replenished pocket. But I intend to know the secret of all this, and many other matters, ere long. So now let us proceed." JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 371 CHAPTER LVII. PARIS IN 1814. Ik the strange medley of every nation and costume which we beheld on enterintj Paris surprised us, how much greater was our astonishment when, having finished a hurried breakfast, we issued forth into the crowded streets. Here were assembled among the soldiers of every countr}', visitors from all parts of Europe, attracted by the novel spectacle thus presented to them; and eager to participate in the pleasures of a capital whose rejoicings, so far from being checked by the sad reverse of fortune, were now at the highest pitch ; and the city much more resembled the gay resort of an elated people than a town occupied by the troops of conquering enemies. The old sol- dier of the empire alone grieved in the midst of this general joy; with the downfall of Napoleon died his every hope. The spirit of conquest, by which for so many years the army had been intoxicated, was annihilated by the one line that signed the treaty of Pontainebloau; and thus among the gay and laughing groups that hurried onward, might now and then be seen some veteran of the old guard scowling with contemptuous look upon that fickle populace, as eager to celebrate the down- fall, as ever they had been to greet the glory of their nation. Nothing more strikingly marked the incongruous host that filled the city, than the ditFerent guards of honour which were mounted at the several hotels where oHicers and generals of disiinction resided. At this time the regulation was not estab- lished which prevailed somewhat later, and gave to the dif- ferent armies of the allies the duty of mounting all the guards in rotation : and now at one door might be seen the tall cuirassier of Austria, his white cloak falling in heavy folds over the ilunk and haunches of his coal black horse, look- ing like some Templar of old ; at another the plumed bonnet of a Highlander fluttered in the breeze, as some hardy moun- taineer paced to and fro ; his grey eye and stern look unmoved by the eager and prying gaze of the crowd that stopped to look upon so strange and singular a costume ; here was the impatient schimmel of some Hungarian hussar, pawing the 372 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. Efrouiid with restless eagerness, as his gay dolman slashed with gold glittered in the sun. The jager from Bohemia — the deadly marksman with the long rifle ; the savage Tartar of the Ukraine, devouring his meal on his guard, and turning his dark suspicious eye around him, lest every passer-by might mean some treachery— all denoted that some representative ol their country dwelt within, while every now and then the clank of a musket would be heard, as a heavy forte cochere opened to permit the passage of an equipage, as strange and as char- acteristic as the guard himself. Here would issue the heavy " waggon " of some German prince, with emblazoned panels and scarlet hammercloth ; the horses as fat and lethargic as the smoking and moustached figure they were drawing; there was a low droschki of a Russian — three horses abreast— their harness tinkling with brass bells as the spirited animals plunged and curvetted along ; the quiet and elegant-looking phaeton of English build, with its perfection of appointment, rolled along with its deep woody sound beside the quaint, old-fashioned ca- leche of Northern Germany, above whose cumbrous side panels the heads of the passengers were visible only ; nor were the horse- men less dissimilar — the stately Prussian, with his heel ai^lomh beneath his elbow ; the Cossack, with short stirrups, crouched upon his horse's mane; the English horse artilleryman powder- ing along with massive accoutrements and gigantic steed ; the Polish light cavalry soldier, standing high in his stirrups, and turning his restless eye on every side, were all subjects for our curiosity and wonder. The novelty of the spectacle seemed, however, to have greatly worn off for the Parisians; who rarely noticed the strange and uncouth figures that every moment passed before their eyes, and now talked away as unconcernedly amid the scene of tumult and confusion, as though nothing new or remarkable was going on about them ; their very indifference and insouciance one of the strangest sights we witnessed. Our progress, which at the first was a slow one, ceased entirely at the corner of the palace, where a considerable crowd was now collected. Although we asked of the by-standers, no one could tell what was going forward; but the incessant roars of laughter showed that something droll or ridiculous had occurred. O'Grady, whose taste in such matters would suffer no denial, elbowed his way though the mob, I following as well as I was able. When we reached the first rank of the spectators, we certainly needed no explanation of the circumstances to make us join iu the mirth about us. It was a single combat of a very remarkable description. A tall Cossack, with a long red beard now waving wildly on every side, was epdeavouring to lecover hie mutcka cap from a little JACK HINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 373 decrepid old ellow, from whom h" liud stolen a basket of eggs. The eggs were all lirokeri on llie ground; and the little man danced among thetn like an infuriated Hend, flourishing a stick all the while m the rao-st fearful fashion. Tlie Cossack, whose hand at every moment sought the naked knite that was stuck in his girdle, was obliged to relinquish his weapon by the groans of the mol), who nnequivocally sliowed that they would not i)er- niit foul I'lay ; and being thus nnarnied, could make nothing of an adversary whose contemptible appearance caused all the ridicule of the scene. J\Iean\viiile the little fellow, his clothes in rags, and his head surmounted by a red Cossack mutcka, capered about like nothing human, uttering the most frightful sounds of rage and passion. At length, in a paroxysm of fury, he dealt the tall Cossack a rap over the temples which made him reel again. Scarcely had the blow descended, when, stung by the insult and the jeers of the mob, the enraged savage grasped his knife. With one spring he pounced upon the little man ; but as he did so, a strong hand from behind seized him by the collar, with one tremendous jerk hurled him back upon the crowd, where he fell stunned and senseless. I had only time to perceive that it was O'Grady who had come to the rescue, when the old fellow, turning fully round, looked up in his face, and, without evincing any emotion of surprise, or wonder, or even of gratitude, croaked out — " And it's standin' looking on ye wor all the time, and I fighting my sowle out ! Ugh ! bad luck to service ! look at my coat and small clothes ! Ay, you miglit laugh, ye grinning bastes as ye are— and a basket of fresh eggs in smithereens, and this Friday ! " The convulsions of laughter which this apparition and the speech excited ptrevented our hearing more. The mob, too, without understanding a word, were fully sensible of the absur- dity of the scene, and a perfect chorus of laughter rang through the street. " And my elegant beaver — see it now ! " said Corny — for we hope our reader recognizes him — as he endeavoured to empty the batter from his head-piece, and restore it to shape. "Ugh ! the haythens — the Turks ! see now, Master Phil, it's warning I'm giving you this minit — here, where I stand. May the divil Ah ! if ye dare, ye eternal robber ! " This elegant exordium was directed to the poor Cossack, who, having regained his feet, was skulking away from the field, throwintr as he went a lin- gering look at his red cajj, which Mr. Delany still wore as a spoil of his victory. We now made our way through the crowd, followed by Corny, whose angry looks on every side elicited peals of laugh- ter; and thus accompanied we approached the massive foH^ 374 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. cocliere of a large hotel in the Place Vendomme, where a "Swiss," in full costume of porter, informed us that Lady Charlotte Hinton resided. While I endeavoured to pass on, he interposed his burly person, informing me, in very short phrase, that her ladyship did not receive before four o'clock. "Arrah, hould your prate ! " cried Corny ; " sure it's the woman's son you're talking to. — Two pair of stairs to your left hand, and the first doore in the passage. — Look at the crowd there, the lazy craytures ! that has nothing better to do than follow a respectable man. Be off! bad luck to yez ! ye ought to be crying over the disgrace ye're in. — Be the light that shines ! but you desarved it well." Leaving Corny to his oration before the mob, of which, happily for the safety of his own skin, they did not comprehend one word, I took the direction he mentioned, and soon found out the door, on which a visiting card with my mother's name was fastened. We were now introduced into a large and splendidly-fur- nished saloon, with all that lightness and elegance of decoration which in a foreign apartment is the compensation — a poor one sometimes — for the more comfortable look of our English houses; the room was i^mpty, but the morning papers and all the new publications of the day were scattered about with pro- fusion; consigning my friend for a short time to these, 1 fol- lowed the/e/)ime de cliamhre, who had already brought in my card to my mother, to her ladyship's dressing-room. The door was opened noiselessly by the maid, who whispered my name ; a gentle "let him come in" followed, and 1 entered. My mo- ther was seated before a glass, under the hands of a coiifeur, and dared not turn her head. As I approached she reachud me her hand, however, which having kissed dutifullv, I drew my chair, and sat down beside her. " My dear boy ! " said she, as her eyes turned towards me, and a tear fell from the lid and trickled down her cheek ; in spite of the unnatural coldness of such a meeting, the words, the accents, and the look that ac- companied them, came home to my heart, and I was glad to hide my emotion by again pressing my lips to her hand. Hav- ing kindly informed me that the ceremony she was then sub- mitting to was imperative, inasmuch as if she had not M. Dejoncourt then, she could not have him at all — that his time was so filled up, every moment of it, from eight in the morning till eleven at night, that the Emperor Alexander himself couldn't obtain his services, if he wished for them — she pro- ceeded to give me some details of my father, by which I could learn that the change in his circumstances had never been made known to her, and that she had gone on since we last JACK niXTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 375 met, in her old career of extravagance and expense — the indul- gence of whiob, and the cares of her ever-declining health, had given her abundant occupation. As I looked at her beautiful features and delicately fair com- plexion, upon which time had scarcely laid a touch, I sighed to think at what a frightful sacritico of feeling, of duty, and of happiness too, such loveliness had been purchased. If the fine pencilling of that brow had never known a wrinkle, the heart had never throbbed to one high or holy thought — if the smile sat easily on the lip, it was the habitual garb of fash- ionable captivation, and not the indication of one kind thought, or one atFectionate feeling; I felt .^hocked, too, that I could thus criticise my mother, but in truth for a minute or two I forgot she was such. '• And Julia," said I, at length — "what of her? " " Very handsome indeed — strikingly so. Beulwitz, the emperor's aide-de-camp, admires lierinnnonsely. I am sincerely glad that you are come, dear John. You know Julia's fortune has all been saved ; but of that another time : the first point now is to secure you a ticket for this ball, and how to do it, I'm sure I know not." " My dear mother, believe me I have not the slightest desire " "How very unkind you are, to think we could separate from you after such an absence; besides, Julia would be seriously offended, and I think with cause : — but the ticket — let's consider about that. Dejoncourt, is it true that the Princess de Nassau was refused a card for the ball ? " " Old, mi lad!. The King of Prussia has sent her one of his, and is to take her; and Madame la Duchesse de St. Bieve is so angry at being left out, that she tried to get up an alarm of conspiracy in the faubourg, to jn'eveut the sovereigns from going." " But they will go, surely — won't they ? " "Ah, to be sure. Fardieu, they would say to-morrow that they had been omitted too, if they didn't appear." " What are we to do ? " said her ladyship with energy. " Grammont can be of no use here ; lor unfortunately these people are not French." ' What then," said I ; ''it is some of the crowned heads who are the entertainers ? " " Oh, no ; indeed I don't know who they are ; nor do I know any one who does. The only fact of importance is, that this is their third /<7e; the two first were the most brilliant things ever given in Paris — that the Emperor of llussia always dances there — theKing of Prussia makes his whist party — thatBlucher takes the head of oue of the supper-tables— and, in a word, Talleyrand 376 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. himself has employed more diplomacy to secure an extra ticket, than he has often dispensed in carvinsj out a new monarchy. My mother handed me a splendidly embossed card, as she spoke, upon which, in letters of pale burnished gold, were inscrilDed the following words — " Madame de Roni, nee Cassidy de Kilmainham, prie honneur," &c. — a burst of laughter at the absurdity of the title, stopped my reading further. " She's an Italian, possibly,' said my mother. "I should think not," I replied; "the nee Cassidy de Kil- mainham smacks of something nearer home — what thmk you of Ireland ? " " Ireland ! Are these people Irish ? " said she, starting with horror, at the thought. *' I trust, my dear John, you would not think proper to jest on such a subject." " My dear mother, I never heard of them before ; the only thing that strikes me is the name. Cassidy is assuredly more Milesian than Roman." *' But she has birth ; that's certain," replied my mother proudly. Not caring to argue the point, which, after all, resolved itself into the question that the lady was the child of somebody, and that somebody was called " Cassidy," I began to meditate on the singularity of such a phase in life as the entertainer of sove- reigns, kaisers, kings, princes, archdukes, and ambassadors, being a person utterly unknown. " But here's Grammont," said my mother as a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the count entered ; the only change in his appearance since last I saw him being the addition of another cordon to his blue coat, and a certain springiness in his walk, which I afterwards remarked as common among all the returned emigres at the I'estoration. " Que diablefaut ilfaire," said the count entering, "with this JMaJame de Roni ? she refuses all the world. Ah, Jack, mon rJier, how do you do ? — safe and sound from all the perils of these terrible French, that cut yon all to pieces in the Peninsula. But only think, mi ladi, no card for la Duchesse de Tavenne; Madame de Givry left out; Saeristi! I hope there is nothing against ce fauvre Roi de Prusse." " Well, and here is John," said my mother : " what arc we to do about him ? " My renewed disclaimer of any wish in the matter was cut short by a look of rej^roof, and I waited the whole discussion with patience. " Never was there such a difficulty," said the count, musing. "There is certainly nothing to be done through the worthy hus- band of madame. Dejoncourt and two or three more gave him a diner en gourmand e at Very's, to seduce him ; and after hia yACK HINTON, THE GUARDS MAX. 377 fifth flask of champagne he frankly confessed he was sorry ho could not return their civilities as lie wished. 'I'll entertain you here, and have Blucher and TlatofF, FoucIk-, and any one else you like to meet you. I'll introduce you to old Prussia and tlie Czar whenever you please ; you shall have ]iermissiou to shoot at Fontainebleau any day you mention ; but as to Madame de lioni, she is devilish exclusive ; 1 really cannot manage that for you.' " " I wish you could prevail on yourself to be serious," said my mother, in nowise pleased with the jocular spirit the count's anecdote had excited ; " but here is Julia — what does she advise ? " As my mother spoke, the door opened, and my cousin ap- peared. Her figure had more of the roundness of womanhood, and her face, though paler, was fuller, and its oxi)ression had assumed a more decided cliaracter than when 1 last saw her. Her winning smile and her graceful carriage were all un- changed ; and her low soft voice never struck me as more fasci- nating than when she held out her hand and said — "My dear cousin! how hapj>y it makes me to see you again ! " Her dark blue eyes were tearful as she spoke, and her lip — that hauglity lip — trembled. A strange wild thrill crept through my heart as I pressed her hand within both of mine— a vague feeling which I dared not suffer to dwell in my mind, and yet feared lest when it should depart, tluit I had lost my chance of happiness. Yes ! there are times when a man, without the admixture of any coxcombry in the feeling — without a particle of vanity — nay, with a deep sense of his own unworthiness, can ask himself — does this woman like me? And at such moments, if his own heart give not the ready answer, it were far better that he sought not the reply from his reason. It was only when my mother asked, for the second time, what was to be done about John's ticket, that Julia seemed aware of the question, a slight — a very slight — curving of her lip show- ing the while the sense she entertained of such an inquiry after long years of separation ; and at last, as^ if unable to re- press the indignation of the moment, she said abruptly — " But, of course, as we shall not think of going to-night " " We not go ! Eh, pardien ! why not ? " said the count. " Tlie colonel below stairs begs to say that he will call some- what later," said the fennne-de-c/iambre at this juncture. " The colonel ! Whom does she mean ? " " Oil, my friend O'Grady. Poor fellow! I have been forget- ting him all this while. So allow me to join him, and we'll wait for your appearance in the drawing-room." "I remember him perfectly," said my mother; " an agreeable 378 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN person, I tliink. So take Julia and the count witli you, and I'll follow as soon as I can." Jnlia blushed deeply, and as suddenly grew pale again as my mother spoke. I knew that she had always treated my friend with hauteur and reserve, without any assignable reason, and had long determined that wheu an opportunity arose, I would endeavour to get rid of the unjust impression she had somehow conceived of my warmest, truest friend. This was not, howevei", the time for explanations ; and 1 merely said, as I offered my arm — "Poor O'Grady has been badly wounded ; but I think he's now getting on favourably." She said something in reply, but the words were lost in the noise of descending the stairs. Just as we reached the landing, I caught a glimpse of my friend issuing from the forte cochere, and only in time to call him by his name — • " Holloa, Phil ! Don t go away." As he turned back towards the drawing-room, he cried out — " It's only this instant, Jack, I remembered liow very awkward it was of me to come here with you at this hour. You have, of course, so much to say and hear after your absence •" The sight of my fair cousin cut short his speech, as she stood near the door with her hand out to receive him. As O'Grady took her taper fingers within his own, there was an air of cold distance in his manner that actually offended me : bowing deeply, he said a few brief words in a tone of gravity and stiff- ness quite unusual with him; and then, turning to Grammont, shook his hand with a warmth and cordiality most markedly different. I only dared to glance at Julia, but as I did so I could mark an exnressiou of haughty displeasure that settled on her brow, while her heightened colour made her turn away towards the window. I was myself so mucli annoyed by the manner in which O'Grady had received advances which I had never seen made to any one before, that I was silent. Even Grammont saw the awkwardness of all parties so much in need of his intervention, that he at once opened the whole negociation of the ball to O'Grady, describing with a Frenchman's volubility and sarcasm the stratagems and devices which were employed to obtain invitations — -the triumph of the successful, the despairing malice of the unfortunate — heightening his narrative by the mystery of the fair hostess, who — herself unknown, unheard of till now — was at this moment at the pinnacle of fashion, dictating the laws and distributing the honours of the beau monde to the greatest sovereigns of Europe, " She is very beautiful, no doubt? " asked O'Grady. yACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 37^ "Old — vas mal," said Gramniont, with that all-explaining shnip of the shoulders by which a f'urcigner conveys so much. " Very rich, perhaps ? '' '' Milltunairc ! "' said the Frenchman, in a tone of exultation that bespoke his full acquiscence in that surmise at least. •' And her rank ? " "Ah! 1 don't read riddles. All I know is, her house is the best thing at Paris ; she has secured old Canibacores' f/t^/ rfe cuisine ; has bought up the groom of the chambers of the ex- eraperor ; keeps an cstafette going on the Strasbourg road for ]>affN (le fois gras ; and is on such terms with the sovereigns that she has their private bands to play at all her parties. Que vonlo.z vous ! " "Nothing more, indeed!" said O'Grady. lauf^hing. "Such admirable supremacy in the world of boii ton it would be rank heresy to question farther, and I no longer wonder at the active canvass for her invitations." " Old, jni:rhh?2i ! " said the Frenchman gaily. "If Monsieur the Conito d'Artois does not exert himself, people will bo more proud of a ticket to these balls than of the Croix de St. Louis. For my own part, I think of wearing mine over the cordon." As he s]-)oke, he llourished his card of invitation in the air, and displayed it in his bosom. " Madame de Koni, nee Cassidy de Kilmainham," said O'Grady, bursting into a perfect roar of laughing. " This is glorious, Jack. Did you see this ? " " See— eh ?— to be sure ; and what then ? " But O'Grady's mirth had burst all bounds, and he sat back in an armchair laughing immoderately. To all our question? lie could give no other reply than renewed bursts of merriment, which, however enjoyed by himself, were very provoking to ns. " He knows her," whispered Grammont in my ear ; " be assured he knows maJame." "Jack, whore shall we meet in half an hour?" said Phil at length, jumping up and wiping his eyes. "Here, if you like,'' said I: "I shall not leave this till you return." " Be it so," said he ; and then with a bow to my cousin and an easy nod to Grammont, O'Grady took his hat and departed. Grammontnow looked at his watch, and remembering some half- dozen very important appointments, took his leave also, leaving me once more, after so li>ng an interval, fefe-d-fSfe with Julia. There were so many things to talk over since we had met, so many reminiscences which each moment called up, that I never llioun^ht of the hours as they ran over; and it was only by Lady Charlotte's appearance in the drawing-room that we were apprized it was already past four o'clock, and that the tide of 38o yACk WNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. her morning visitors would now set in, and break up all liOpeg of continuing our colloquy. " Where is your friend? " said my mother, as she carried he" eyes languidly round the spacious apartment. " Gone some hours ago : but he promised to take me up here. "VVe shall see him soon, I suspect." "Colonel O'Grady,'' said a servant; and my cousin had just time to leave the room by one door, as he entered by another. Advancing to my mother with a manner of respectful ease, which he possessed in perfection, O'Grady contrived in a few brief words to resume the ground he had formerly occupied in her acquaintance, throwing out as he went an occasional compliment to her looks, so naturally and unaffectedly done as not to need acknowledgment or reply, but yet with sufficient evi}n-essemcnt to show interest. " I have heard since my arrival that you were interested about this ball, and took the opportunity to secure you some tickets, which, though late, some of your friends may care for." He presented my mother as he spoke with several blank cards of invitation, who, as she took them, could not conceal her astonishment, nor repress the look of curiosity, which she could scarcely repel in words, as to how he had accomplished a task the highest people in Paris had failed in. I saw what was passing in her mind, and immediately said— "My mother would like to know your secret about these same cards, O'Grady, for they have been a perfect subject of conten- tion here for the last three weeks." " Her ladyship must excuse me — at least for the present — if I have one secret I cannot communicate to her," said O'Grady smiling. " Let me only assure her, no one shall know it before she herself does." "And there is a secret? " said Lady Charlotte eagerly. " Yes, there is a secret," replied O'Grady with a most ludicrous gravity of tone. " Well, at least we have profited by it, and so we may wait in patience. Your friend Colonel O'Grady will give us the pleasure of his company at di»ner, I hope," continued my mother with her most winning smile. O'Grady declined, having already accepted the invitation of the adjutant-general, but begged he might be permitted to join our party at the ball ; which being graciously acceded to by my mother, we both made our bows and sauntered out to see more of the sights of Paris. " Come, Phil," said I, when we were once more alone, " what is the secret ? Who is Madame de Eoni ? " "Not even to you, Jack," was his answer, and we walked on in silence. JACK HINTOK, THE GUARDSMAN. 381 CHAPTER ■ LVIir. A THE " R N 1 F i. T E." There is no ciiidcmic more catching than excitement. Tlie fussy manner and feverish bustle of the people ahont yon. are snre, after a time, to communicate themselves to you — the very irritation they create-being what the yihysicians call a predis- posing cause. I became an illustration in point, as the hour of this ball drew nigh. At tirst I could not but wonder how, in the midst of such stupendous events as were then taking placo • — in the heart of a city garrisoned by an enemy — with every- thing that could wound national pride and offend national honour — even French levity could raise itself to the enjoyment of fashionable frivolity ; but, by degrees, the continual recur- rence of the subject fiimiliarized my mind to it, wore off my first and more natural impressions, and at last I began, like my neighbours, not only to listen witli patience, but even to join in the various discussions with animation and interest. Ko sooner had the report gained currency that Lady Charlotte was in possession of blank invitations, than our hotel was liesieged bv half I'aris — the unfortunate endeavouring, by every Fpecies of flattery, and every imaginable stratagem, to obtain tickets ; the lucky ones all anxious to find out the mystery of her ladvship's success, which at first seemed almost incredible. 'J he various surmises, guesses, hints, allusions, and subterfuges which followed each other in rapid succession, as this motley mob of fashionables came and went, and went and came again, amused me considerably — the more so, perhaps, as the occasion called into full jilay all my cousin Julia's powers of flij^pant raillery and sarcasm, both of which she exercised without scruple, but never within range of discovery by any of her victims. Evervthing gave way to the convenience of this splendid/^-Ve. The eight o'clock dinner was anticipated by full two hours— no other subject of conversation was ever broached by the company — and at nine the carriages were ordered to the door, it being wisely calculated that if we reached our destination at eleven we should esteem ourselves fortunate. D 1> 382 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN, How often, as the dashing equipage whirls past to some scene of pleasure, where beauty, and rank, and riches await the sated votary of fashion, will the glare of the carriage lamps fall upon the gloomy footway, where, wet and weary, .some melancholy figure steals along with downcast head and plodding step — his thoughts turned ever to some accustomed scene of wretchedness, wJiere want and misery, disease, neglect, decay, all herd together, and not even hope can enter. The poor man, startled, looks up —the rich one, lolling back upon his easy cushion, casts a down- ward glance — their eyes meet — it is but a second — there is no sympathy between them — the course of one lies north, the other south. Thus at each moment did ray sad heart turn away from all the splendour of the preparation about me, to wonder with myself how, even for an instant, I could forget my own path in life, which, opening with every prospect of happiness, yet now offered not a hope for the future. Between these two alternate states the hours crept on. As I sat beside Jnlia in the carriage, I couldn't but mark that something weighed also on her spirits. More silent than usual, she replied, when spoken to, with effort, and more than once returned wrong answers to my mother, who talked away unceasingly of the ball and the guests. It was near midnight when we drove into the large archway of the H6tel de Eohan, where Madame de Roni held her court. Brilliajitly lighted with lamps of various colours, the very equipages were made a part of the spectacle, as they shone in bright and changeful hues, reflected from gorgeous housings, gilded trappings, and costly liveries. A large, dark- coloured travelling carriage, with a single pair of horses, stood in the corner of the court, the only thing to distinguish it being two mounted light dragoons, who waited beside it, and a chasseur in green and gold uniform, who stood at the door. This simple equipage belong to the King of Prussia. Around on every side were splendidly appointed carriages, glittering with emblazonry and gilding, from which, as the guests descended and entered the marble vestibule, names of European celebrity were called out, and repeated from voice to voice along the lofty corridors. Le Prince de Schwartzenberg, Count Pozzo di Borgo, Le Due de Dalberg, mi Lord Catlicart, le Comte de Nesseh-ode, Mon- sieur Talleyrand de Perigord, with others equally noble and exalted, followed in rapid succession. Our turn came at last ; and as we reached the hall we found O'Grady waiting for our arrival. " There's no use in attempting to get forward for some time," said he ; " so follow me, and I'll secure you a more comfortable place to wait in." As he spoke he passed through the hall, and, whispering a few words to a servant, a door was opened in the wainscot, JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 383 aJniitting us to a small and neatly fitted up librarj-, where a good fire and some easy chairs awaited us. "I st'O your surprise," said O'Grady, as my mother looked about her with astonishment at his perfect acipiaiiitaiice with the whole locality ; " but I can't explnin — it's part ot my secret : meanwhile, Jack, I have another lor your ear," said he, in a low \vhis[)er, as he drew me aside into a corner. " I have made a very singular discovery, Jack, to-day, and I have a notion it may lead to more. I met, by accident, at the adjutant-general's table, the brother of a French officer whose life I saved at Nivelle ; he remembered my name in a moment, and we became sworn friends. I accej)ted his offer of a seat in his carriage to this ball, and on the way he informed me that he was the chief of the secret police of L'aris, whose business it is to watch all the doings of the regular police and report upon them to Fouche, whose si)ies are in every salon and at every dinner-table in the capital. I have no time at present to repeat any of the extra- ordinary stories he told me of this horrible sj'stem; but just as we entered the court-yard of this hotel, our carriage was jammed up in the fine, and detained for some minutes. Guillemain suddenly let down the glass, and gave a low, peculiar whistle, which, if I had not been paying considerable attention to every- thing about him, might have escaped my notice. In about a minute after a man, with a hat slouched over his face, and a large cravat covering his mouth, approached the carriage. They conversed together for some time, and I could perceive that the new comer spoke his French in a broken manner and with a foreign accent. By a slight movement of the horses one of the lamps threw the light full uj^on this man's face ; I fixed my eyes rapidly on him, and recognised — whom, think you .'' — but you'd never guess — no other than your old antagonist, Ulick i3nrke'" " Ulick Burke ! You must have been mistaken." " No, no. I knew him at once : the light rested on him for fidl five minutes, and I had time enough to scan every feature of his face. I could swear to the man now. He left us at last, and I watched him 'till he disappeared among the crowd of servants that filled the court-yard." "'That's one of your people,' said I, carelessly, as Guillemain drew up the glass, and sat back in the carriage. " ' Yes, and a thorough scoundrel he is — capable of any- thing.' '"He's not Freuch,' said I, with the same indifference of manner I had feigned at first. " Guillemain started as I spoke ; and I half feared I had destroyed all by venturing too much; at length, after a short pause he replied — ' You're right, he's not French ; but we have 3S4 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. them of all nations — Poles, Swedes, Germans, Italians, Greeks that fellow is English.' '• ' Say Irish, rather,' said I, determining to risk all — to know all. " ' You know him, then P * said Guillemain hurriedly; ' where did you see Fitzgerald ? ' " ' Fitzgerald ! ' said I, repeating the name after him ; and then affecting disappointment, added— 'that's not the name.' " ' Ha ! I knew you were mistaken,' said Guillemain with animation ; ' the fellow told me he defies recognition ; and I certainly have tried him often among his countrymen, and he has never been detected; and yet he knows the English thoroughly and intimately. It was through him I first found out these very people we are going to.' " Here, Jack, he entered upon a long account of our worthy host, who, with great wealth, great pretensions, and as great vulgarity, came to Paris some weeks ago in that mighty flood of all sorts of people that flocked here since the peace. Their desire to be ranked among the fashionable entertainers of the day was soon reported to the minister of police, who, after con- sidering how far such a house might be useful, where persons of all shades of political opinion might meet — friends of the Bour- bons, Jacobite?. Napoleonists, the men of '88, and the admirers of the old m/;'//ie?— measures were accordingly taken that their invitations should go out to the first persons in Paris, and more still, should be accepted by them. " While these worthy people are therefore distributing their hospitalities with all the good faith imaginable, their hotel is nothing more nor less than a cabinet de i)olice., where Fouche and his agents are unravelling the intrigues of Paris, or weaving fresh ones for their own objects." "Infamous system! but how comes it, Phil, that they have never discovered their anomalous position.-^" " What a question, Jack ! Vulgar pretension is a triple shield that no eye can pierce ; and as you know the parties " •■ Know them ! no, I never heard of them before." " What, Jack ! Is your memory so short lived; and yet there was a pretty girl in the house who might have rested longer in your memory." ,The announcement of Lady Charlotte and my cousin's names by the servant at the foot of the stairs broke up our conference; and we had only time to join our party as we fell into that closely wedged phalanx that wound its slow length up the spacious stau'case. O'Grady's last words had excited my curiosity to the highest pitch ; but as he preceded me with my mother on his arm, I was unable to ask for an explanation. At last we reached the antechamber, from which a vista of JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 385 «(/7o»ft- siuldenly broke upon the view ; and iilthougli anticlpatint^ much, I hud lurmcd no conception whatever of the spletidour of the scene before me. More brilliant than noonday itself, the room was a bla/e of wa.\lit,'ht3 ; tlio ceilinf,'s of fretted f,'old and bhie cuaniol, glittering Hke a gorgeous tirmament; the walla were covered with pictures in costly frames of Venetian taste; but the decorations, magnificent and princely as they were, were as nothing to that s|ilendid crowd of jewelled dames and glitter- ing nobles; of all that was distinguished in beauty, in rank, in military glory, or in the great contest of political life. Here were the greatest names of Europe — the kings and princes of the earth, the leaders of mighty armies, tlie generals of a hundred battles— here was the collective greatness of the world — all that can inHuence mankind, hereditary rank, military power, stupendous intellect, beauty, wealth— mixing in the vast vorte.\ of fashionable dissipation, and plunging into all the excesses of voluptuous pleasure. The band of the Imperial Guard stationed near the staircase, were playing with all the delicious softness of their national instrument— the Russian Horn—a favourite mazurka of the emperor's as we entered; and a partial silence reigned among the hundred listeners. O'Grady conveyed my mother through the crowd to a seat, •where, having placed my cousin beside her, he once more camo near me. '' Jack," whispered he, " come a little this way." He drew aside a curtain as he spoke, and we entered a boudoir, where a buffet of refreshments was placed; here the scene was ludicrous in the extreme, from the incongruous mixture of persons of so many nations and languages who were chatting away and hobnobbing to each other in all the dismembered phrases of every tongue in Europe; roars of laughter, however, poured from one corner of the room, whither O'Grady directed his steps, still holding my arm. A group of Cossack officers in full scarlet costume, their loose trowsers slashed with gold em- broidery, and thrust into wide boots of yellow leather, stood in a circle round a person whom we could not yet perceive; but who, we were enabled to discover, was exercising his powers of amusement for this semi-savage audience, whose wild shouts of laughter broke forth at every moment. We made our way at length through the crowd, and my eyes at last fell upon the figure within. I stared— I rubbed my eyes — I actually began to doubt my very senses, when suddenly turning his joyous face, beaming with good humour towards me, he held forth his hand and called out, " Captain, my darling, the top of the morning to you. This beats Stephen's Green, doesn't it ^ " " Mr. Paul Kooney," said I. "No, no, Monsieur de lloni, if you please,"' said he, again 386 JACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. breaking out into a fit of laughing. *' Lord help you, man, I've been chi-istened since I came abroad. Let me present you to my friends." Here Paul poked a tall Cossack in the ribs to attract his attention, and then pointing to me, said — "This is Captain Hinton ; his name's a poser ; a cross between chincough and a house key. Eh, old fellow ^ " " A Tartar grin " was the reply to this very intelligible speech ; but a bumper of champagne made everything comprehensible between them. Mr. Rooney's hilarity soon showed me that he had not forgotten his native habits ; and was steadily bent upon ' drinking glass for glass with his company, even though they only came in detachments; with Bashkir chiefs, Pomeranian barons, Rhine graafs, and Polish counts, he seemed as intimate as though he had passed as much of his time in the Caucasus as the Four Courts ; and was as familiar with the banks of the Don as ever he had been with those of the Dodder. " And is it really our old friend Mrs. Paul who entertains this host of czars and princes ? " " Is it really only now that you've guessed it ? " said O'Grady, as he carried me away with him through the saloon. " But I see Lady Charlotte is amongst her friends, and your cousin is dancing, so now let's make the most of our time. I say, Jack, your lady mother scarcely supposes that her host is the same person she once called on for his bill. By Jove, what a dis- covery it would be to her ; and the little girl she had such a horror of is now the helle of Paris. You remember Louisa Bellew, don't you ? Seven thousand a year, my boy, and beauty worth double the money ; but there she is, and how hand- some." As he spoke, a lady passed us leaning on her partner's arm, her head turned slightly over her shoulder. I caught but one glance, and as I did so, the rushing torrent of blood that mounted to my face made my very brain grow dizzy. I knew not where I stood— I sprang forward to speak to her, and then became rooted to the ground. It was she, indeed — beautiful as ever I had seen her : her pale face wore the very look I had last seen the night I saved her from the flood. " Did you observe her companion ? " said O'Grady, who for- tunately had not noticed my confusion. " It was De Vere. I knew he was here ; and I suspect I see his plans." " De Vere ! " said I, starting. " De Vere with Miss Bellew ! Are you certain?" Quite certain— I seldom mistake a face, and his I can't forget. But here's Guillomain. I'll join 5'ou in a moment." So saying, O'Grady left my side, and I saw him take the arm of a small man in black, who was standing at a doorway. The rush of sensations that crowded on me as I stood there alone, JACK J I IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. 387 tnailo me forget the time, :inJ I knew not that O'Grady Lad been aljovo half-an-lionr away wlicn lio aifjiin came to my side. '■ How the ])lot thickens, llintoii," said lie, in a low whisper. "Only think, the villain liiirke has actually made the hand and fortune of that lovely yirl the price of obtainincj secret informa- tion from Dc A''ero of the proceedinf,'s of the British embassy. Giiilleniain did not confess this to me, but he spoke in such a ■way, that with my knowledge of all parties, I made out the clue." " Burke ! but what iullnence has he over her "i " " None over her, but much over the Rooneys, whom, indepen- dent of threats about exposing their real condition in life, he has persuaded that such a marriage for their ward secures them in fashionable society for ever. This with Paul would do nothing; but Madame de Koni, as you know, set.s a high price on such a treasure; besides, he is in possession of some family secret about her mother, which he uses as a means of intimidation to Paul, who would rather die than hurt jNIiss Bellew's feelings. Now, Jack, De Vere only wants intellect to be as great a scoundrel as Master Ulick ; so we must rescue this poor girl, come what will." " We must and we will," said I, with a tone of eagerness that made O'Grady start. "Not a moment is to be lost," said he, after a brief pause. " I'll try what can be done with Guillemain." An opening of the crowd as he spoke compelled us to fall back, and as we did so, I could perceive that an avenue was made along the room. " One of the sovereigns," whispered O'Grady. I leaned forward, and perceived two aide-de-camps in green uniform, who were retreating step by step slowly before some persons further back. "The Emperor of Eussia," whispered a voice near me; and the same instant I saw the tall and fine-looking figure of Alexander, his broad massive forehead, and frank, manly face turning from side to side as he acknowledged the salutations of the room. Ou his arm he supported a lady, whose noddiug plumes waved in concert with every inclination of the Czar himself. Curious to see what royal personage shared thus with liirn the homage of the assembly, I stooped to catch a glance — the lady turned — our eyes met— a slight Hush coloured hor cheek, as she quickly moved her head away— it was I\[rs. Paul liooney herself! yes, she whom I had once seen with an efiort to subdue her pride of station, when led in to dinner by some Irish attorney-general, or some going judge of assize, now loaned on the arm of an emperor, and divided with him the honours of the moment ! 388 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. While O'Grady souglit out his new friend, the minister of police, I went in search of my mother and Lady Julia, whom I found surrounded by a knot of their own acquaintances, actively engaged in surmises as to the lady of the house — her rank, fortune, and pretensions. For some time I could not but feel amused at the absurd assertions of many of the party, who affected to know all about Madame de Roni and her secret mission at Paris. " My dear John," said my mother in a whisper, " you must find out ail about her. Your friend, the colonel, is evidently in the secret. Pray, now, don't forget it. But really you seem in a dream. There's Beulwitz j^aying Julia all the attention imaginable the entire evening, and you've never gone near her. — Apropos, have you seen this ward of Madame de Roni? she is very pretty, and they speak of her as a very suitable person " (this phrase was a kind of cant with my mother and her set, which expressed in brief that a lady was enormously rich and a very desirable match for a man with nothing,) — " I forget the name? " " Miss Bellew, perhaps," said I, trembling lest any recollection of ever having heard it before should cross her mind. " Yes, that's the name : somehow it seems familiar to me. Do you know her yet ? for my friend Lady Middleton knows every one and will introduce you." " Oh, I have the pleasure of being acquainted with her already," said I, turning away to hide my confusion. "That's quite proper," said her ladyship encouragingly. " But here she comes : I think you must introduce me, John." As my mother spoke, Louisa Bellew came up, leaning on a lady's arm. A moment's hesitation on my part would have only augmented the embarrassment which increased at every instant ; so I stepped forward and pronounced her name. No sooner had the words " Miss Bellew " escaped my lips, than she turned round, her large full eyes were fixed upon me doubtingly for a second, and her face grew deep scarlet, and then as suddenly pale again. She made an effort to speak, but could not: a tottering weakness seemed to creep over her frame ; and as she pressed her companion's arm closely I heard her mutter — " Oh, pray move on ! " "Lady Charlotte Hinton — Miss Bellew," said the lady at her side, who had paid no attention whatever to Louisa Bellew's agitated manner. My mother smiled in her sweetest manner ; while Miss Bellew's acknowledgments were made with the most distant coldness. " My son had deemed himself fortunate enough to be known to jou," said Lady Charlotte. yACk' H/XTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 389 !Miss Ik'llew became pale as death; her very lips wore blooJ- less, an, with a voice tremulous with emotion, she replied — " We were acquainted once, madam — but " What was to be the remainder of the speech I know not; for as the crowd moved on she passed with it, leaving me like one whose senses were i'orhaking him one by one. 1 could only hear my mother say, "How very impertinent!" and then my brain became a chaos. A kind of wild reckless feeling, the savage longing that in moments of dark passion stirs within a man for some act of cruelty, some deed of vengeance, ran through my breast. 1 had been spurned, despised, disowned by her of whom through many a weary month my heart alone was full. I hurried away from the spot, my brain on fire. I saw nothing. 1 heeded nothing, of the bright looks and laughing faces that j)assed me ; scornful pity and confem|>t for one so low as I was, seemed to prevail in every face 1 looked at. A strange impulse to seek out Lord Dudley de A^ere was uppermost in my mind ; aiu] ;is I turned on every side to find him, I felt my arm grasped tiyhlly, and heard O'Grady's voice in my ear — " 15e calm, Jack, for heaven's sake ! Your disturbed looks make every one stare at you." He drew me along with him through the crowd, and at length reached a card-room, where, except the players, no one was present. " Come, my dear boy, I savr what has annoyed vou." " You saw it ! " said I, my eyeballs straining as I spoke. " Yes, yes ; and what signifies it? So very handsome a girl, and the expectation of a large fortune, must always have fol- lowers. But you know Lady Julia well enough " " Lady Julia ! " repeated I, in amazement. " Yes. I say you know her well enough to believe that Beul- ■witz is not exactly the person " A burst of laughter at his mistake broke from me at the moment; but so wild and discordant was it, that O'Grady misconstrued its meaning, and went at some length to assure me that my cousin's affection for me was beyond my suspicion. Stunned by my own m-erwhelming sorrow. I felt no inclina- tion to undeceive him, and let him persist in his error without even a word of reply. " Rouse yourself, Jack," said he at length. " This depression is unworthy of you, had you even cause for grief. There's many a heart heavier than your own, my boy, where the lip is smiling this minute." There was a tone of deep affliction in the cadence of his voice as these words fell from him, and he turned away his head as he spoke. Then rallying in au instant, he added — 390 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. " Do you know, our dear friend Mrs. Paul has scarcely ventured to acknowledge me to-niglit? and I feel a kind of devilish spirit of vengeance working within me in consequence. To cut me! I that trained her infant mind to greatness — that actually smuggled for her a contraband viceroy, and brought him alive into her dominions ! What dire ingratitude ! Come, what say you to champagne? " He poured me out a large glassful as he spoke, and, filling his own, called out, laughing — " Here — I give you a toast. ' La Vendetta / ' eh, Jack ? Corsican vengeance on all who maltreat us ! " Glass after glass followed: and I felt my brain, instead of being excited, grow calmer, steadier; a firm and determined resolution usurped the flitting thoughts and wandering fancies of before. "They're moving towards the supper-room," said O'Grady, who for some time past had talked away, without my paying any attention to what lie said. As we descended the stairs, I heaixl my mother's carriage announced, and could just see her and my cousin handed to it Ijy some Austrian ofBcers as we entered the supper- room. The incessant crash and din of the enormous banquetting- room, its crowd and heat, its gorgeous table equipage and splendid guests, were scarce noticed by me, as I followed O'Grady half mechanically towards the end of the room. For some time I remained stupidly unconscious of all around ; audit was only after a very considerable time I descried that immediately in front of where we stood, Mrs. Paul Rooney was seated — the Emperor of Russia on her right, the King of Prussia on her left hand ; Swartzenburg, Blucher, Talleyrand, Nesselrode, and many others equally distinguished, occupying places along the board. Her jocund laugh and merry voice indeed first attracted my attention. " By Jove, she does it admirably," said O'Grady, who for full five minutes had been most critically employed scrutinizing Mrs. Paul's manner. " Do you remark the tact with which she graduates her attentions to the emperor and the king? and look at the hauteur of her bearing to old Blucher. But hush — what's coming V A kind of suppressed murmur buzzed along the crowded room which subsiding into a dead silence, the Emperor Alexander rose, and addressing the guests in a few but well-chosen words in English, informed them he had received permission from their amiable and captivating hostess to propose a toast, and he took the opportunity with unqualified delight to give the health of "the Prince Regent." A perfect thunder of applause acknow- yACK niNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 391 leJgecl this piece of gracious courtesy, and a " hip ! hip ! hurra ! " whicli aslonished the foreigners shook the very roof. While the deufening t^liouts rose on every side, i\Irs. Paul wrote a line with her pencil hastily on her card, and turning round gave it to a Cossack aide-de-camp of the emperor, to deliver into Mr. Kooney's hands. Either from the excitement of the moment, or his imperfect acquaintance with lOnglish, the unlucky Cossack turned towards the first British officer near him for an explana- tion, who happened to be O'Grady. " What does this mean ? " said he in French. "Ah!" gaid Phil, looking at it, "this is intended for that gentleman at the foot of the table. " You see him yonder — he's laughing now. Come along, I'll pilot you towards him." Suspecting that O'Grady's politeness had some deeper motive than mere civility, I leaned over his shoulder and asked the reason of it. " Look here," said he, showing me the card as he spoke, on which was written the following words — " Make the baud play ' God Save the King; ' the emperor wishes it." " Come with us, Jack," whispered O'Grady, " we had better keep near the door." I followed them through the dense crowd, who were still cheering with all their might, and at last reached the end of the table, where Paul himself was amusing a select party of Tartar chiefs, Prussian colonels, Irish captains, and Hungarian nobles. " Look here," said Phil, showing me the card, which in his passage down the room he had contrived to alter, by rubbing out the first part, and interpolating a passage of his own ; making the whole run thus — " Sing the ' Cruiskeen Lawn ; ' the emperor wishes it." I had scarcely time to thrust my handkerchief to my mouth, and ])revent an outbreak of laughter, when I saw the Cossack ollicer present the card to Paul with a deep bow. Mr. liooney read it— surveyed the bearer — read it again — rubbed his eyes — drew over a branch of wax candles to inspect it better; and then directing a look to the opjiosite extremity of the table, exchanged glances with his spouse, as if interrogating her intentions once more. A quick, sharp nod from Mrs. Paul decided the question thus tacitly asked ; and Paul, clearing off a tumbler of sherry, muttered to himself—" What the devil ]nit the ' Cruiskeen Lawn ' into his majesty's head I can't think ; but I suppose there's no refusing." A very spirited tapping with the handle of his knife was now heard to mix with tlie other convivial sounds, and soon indeed to overtop them, as Paul, anxious to fulfil a royal behest, cleared 392 JACK niNTQN, THE GUARDSMAN. liis throat a couple of times, and called out, " I'll do the best I can, jour majesty ; " and at once struck up — " Let the farmer praise his grounds, Let ihe huntsman praise his hounds, And talk of the deeds they have done ; But I more blest than they ' Here Paul quavered, and at last the pent up mirth of the whole room could endure no more, but burst forth into one continuous shout of laughter, in which kings, dukes, ambassadors, and field- marshals joined as loudly as their neighbours. To hear the song was utterly impossible; and though from Rlr. Paul's expanded cheeks and violent gesticulation it was evident he was in full chant, nothing could be heard save the scream of laugh- ing which shook the building — an emotion certainly not the less difficult to repress, as Mrs. Paul, shaking her hand at him with passionate energy, called out — " Oh, the baste ! he thinks he's on circuit this minnit ! " As for myself, half-choking, and with sore sides, I never recovered till I reached the street, when O'Grady dragged me along, saying as he did so — " VVe must reach home at once. Nothing but a strong alibi will save my character for this in the morning." CHAPTER LIX. I WAS not sorry when I heard the following morning that my mother would not appear before dinner hour. I dreaded the chance of any allusion to Miss Bellew's name requiring explanation on my part; and the more so, as I myself was utterly lost in conjectures as to the reason of her singular reception of me. Julia, too, appeared more out of spirits than usual. She pleaded fatigue; but I could see that something lay heavily ou JACK IIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 393 her minil. She conversed with cviJent effort, and seemed to have a difhculty in rec:illin<^ her faculties to the ordinary topics of the day. A tlionglit struck me tliat perhaps De Vere's con- duct mifrht have given cause tor her depression; and gradually I drew the conversation to the mention of his name, when I soon heeaine undeceived on this point. She told me with perfect unconcern how my father had tracked out the whole line of his duplicity and calumny regarduif^ me, and had followed the matter up by a representation to the duke at the head of the army, who immediately conimandt'd his retirement from the Guards. Later on, his family influence had obtained his appointment as attacJic to the embassj'^ at Paris ; but since their first rupture he had discontinued his visits, and now had ceased to be acknowledged by them when they met. My cousin's melancholy not being then attributable to any- thing connected with De Vere, 1 set myself to work to ascertaia whence it proceeded ; and suddenly the thought struck me that perhaps my mother's surmise might have some foundiitum. and that Julia, feeling an ulF'ection for me, might have been hurt at my evident want of attention towards her since we met. I have already begged of my reader to separate such sus- picions from the co.\combry of the lady-killer, who deems every girl he meets his victim. If I did for a moment imagine that my cousin liked me, I did so with a stronger sense of my owu iinwnrthiness to merit her love than if I myself had sought her affection. I had felt her superiority to myself too early in life to outlive the memory of it as we grew older. The former feeling of dread which I entertained of Julia's sarcasm still lived within me; and I felt keenly, that she who knew the weaknesses of the boy, was little likely to forget them in rellectiug over the failures of the man ; and thus, if she did care for me, I well knew that her affection must be chequered by too many doubts and uncertainties to give it that character of abiding love which alone could Ijriiig happiness. I perceived clearly enough that she disliked O'Grady. Was it, then, that being interested for me, she was grieved at my great intimacy with one she herself did notyadinire, and who evidently treated her with marked coldness and reserve? Harassed with these suspicions, and annoyed that those I had hoped to see regard each other as friends avoided every opportunity of intimacy, I strolled forth to walk alone, my mind brooding over dark and disagreeable images, and my brain full of plans all based upon disappointed hopes and blighted expeo tations. To my mother's invitation to dinner for that day O'Gradv had returned an apology — he was engaged to his friend M. Guillemain, with whom he was also to pass the morning ; so that I was absolutely without a companion. 394 JACK HI NT ON, THE GUARDSMAN. When first I issued from the Place Vendome. I resolved at all hazards to wait on the Rooneys, and at once see Miss Bellew, and seek an explanation, if possible, for her manner towards me. As I hastened on towards the Chaussee, however, I began to reflect on the impropriety of such a course, after the evident refusal she had given to any renewal of acquamtance. " 1 did know Mr. Hinton," were the words she used — words which, con- sidering all that had passed between us, never could have been spoken lightly or without reason. A hundred vague conjectures as to the different ways in which my character anA motive-, might have been slandered to her occupied ni': as I sauntered along. De Vere and Burke were both my enemies, and I had little doubt that with them originated the calumny from which I now was suffering; and as I turned over in my though;' all the former passages of our hatred, I felt how gladly they woul . embrace the opportunity of wounding me where the injury would prove the keenest. Without knowing it, I had actually reached the street where the Rooneys lived, and was within a few paces of their house. Strange enough, the same scene I had so often smiled at before their house in Dublin was now enacting hei-e: the great differ- ence being, that instead of the lounging subs of marching regiments, the swaggering cornets of dragoons, the over-dressed and under-bred crowds of would-be fashionable' who then con- gregated before the windows or curvetted beneatr tht^ balcony — were now the generals of every foreign service, field-marHhals glit- tering with orders,'ipowdered diplomates, cordoned political writers, savans from every country in Europe, and idlers whose bon mots and smart sayings were the delight of every dinner-table in the capital; all happy to have some neutral ground where the out- posts of politics might be surveyed without compromise or danger, and where, amid the excellences of the table and the pleasures of society, intrigues could be fathomed or invented, under the auspices of that excellent attorney's wife, who deemed herself meanwhile the great attraction of her courtly visitors, and titled guests. As I drew near the house T scarcely ventured to look towards' the balcon}', in which a number of well-dressed j^ersons were now standing chatting together. One voice I soon recognized, and its every accent cut my very heart as I listened. It was Lord Dudley de Vere, talking in his usual tone of loud assump- tion. I could hear the same vacant laugh which had so often offended me ; and I actually dreaded lest some chance allusion to myself might reach me where i. stood. There must be some- thing intensely powerful in the influence of the human voice, when its very cadence alone can elevate to rapture or sting to madness. Who has not felt the ecstacy of some one brief word JACK H IN TON, THE GUARDSMAN. 395 from "lips beloved." after long years of absence? and who has not experienced tlie tumultuous conflict of angry passions that rise unbidden at the mere sound of speaking from those wo like not? My heart burned within me as 1 thought of her who doubtless was then among that gay throng, and for whoso amusement those powers ot his lordship's wit were in ail likelihood called forth ^ and 1 turned away in anger and in sorrow. As the day wore on I could not face towards home, i felt 1 dare not meet the searching questions my mother was certain to ask me ; nor could I endnre the thought of mixing with a crowd of strangers, when my own s|jints were hourly sinking. I dined alone at a small cafe in the i'ulais Royal, and sat moodily over my wine till past eleven o'clock. The stillness of the room startled me at length, and I looked up and found the taljlos deserted ; a sleepy waiter lounged lazily 011 a bench, and the nntrimmcd candles and disordered look of eyerything indicated that no other guests were then expected. " Where have they gone to ? " said I, curious to know what so suddenly had taken the crowd away. " To Frescati's, monsieur," said the waiter : " the salon is fillin" fast by this time." A strange feeling of dislike to being alone, had taken hold ou me; and having inquired the way to the Eue Eichelieu from the servant, 1 issued forth. What a contrast to the dark and gloomy streets of Paris, with their irregular pavement, was the brilliantly-lighted vesti- bule, wiih its marble pillars and spacious stair rising gracefully beyond it, which met my eyes as I entered Frescati's. Follow- ing in the crowd of persons who pressed their way along, I reached a largo ante-chamber, where several servants in rich liveries received the hats and canes of the visitors who thronged eagerly forward, their merry voices and gay laughter resoundmg through the arched roof As the wide doors were thi-own open noiselessly, I was quite unprepared for the splendour of the scene. Here were not only officers of rank in all the gala of their brilliant uniform, and civilians in full dress, shining in stars and decorations, but ladies also with that perfection of toilette only known to i'arisian women, their graceful figures scattered through the groups, or promenading slowly up and down, conversing in a low tone; while servants passed to and Iro with champagne and fruit ices on massive silver salvers, their noiseless gesture and quiet demeanour in perfect keeping with the hushed and tranquil look of all around. As I drew closer to the table I could mark that the stillness was even more remarkable ; not a voice was heard but of the croupier of the table, as with ceaseless monotony he 396 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. repeated— "Paiges ie jeu, messieurs/ — Le jeu est fait. Noirt fercl — et couleur gagne. Rouge perd — et le couleur ;" the • rattle of the rake and the chink of the gold followed, a low muttered " Saci'e J " being the only sound that mingled with them. But I could mark that, although the etiquette of ruia demanded this unbroken silence, passion worked in every feature there. On one side was an old man, his filmy eyes shaded by his hand from the strong glare of wax lights, peering with eagerness, and tremulous from age and excitement, as the cards fell from the banker's hands, his blanched lips muttering each word after the croupier, and his wasted cheek quivering as the chances inclined against him. Here was a bold and manly face, flushed and heated, whose bloodshot eye ranged quickly over the board, while every now and then some effort to seem calm and smile would cross the features, and in its working show the dreadful struggle that was maintained within. And then again a beautiful girl, her dark eye dilated almost to a look of wild insanity, her lips parted, he. cheeks marked with patches of white and red, and her fair hands clenched, while her bosom heaved and fell as though some jient-up agony was eating within her very heart. At the end of the table was a vacant chair, beside which an officer in a Prussian uniform was standing, while before him was a small brass-clanped box. Curious to know what this meant, I turned to see to which of those about me I might venture to address a question, when suddenly my curiosity became satisfied without inquiry. A loud voice talking Gorman with a rough accent— the heavy tramp of a cavalry boot, clanking with large spurs, announced the approach of some one who cared little for the conventional silence of the rooms; and as the crowd opened I saw an old man in blue uniform, covered with stars, elbow hi'' way towards the chair; his eyebrows of shaggy grey almost concealed his eyes as effectually as his heavy moustache did his mouth. He walked lame, and loaned on a stick, which, as he took his place in the chair, he placed unceremoniously on the table before him. The bo.\', which was opened the moment he sat down, he now drew towards him, and, plunging his hand into it, drew forth a handful of " Napoleons," which, without waiting to count, he threw on the table, uttering, in a thick, guttural voice, the one word " rouge.'" The impassive coldness of the croupier, as he pronounced his habitual exordium, seemed to move the old man's impatience, as he rattled his fingers hur- riedly among the gold, and muttered some broken words of German between his teeth. The enormous sum he betted drew evei-y eye towards his part of the table, of all which he seemed totally regardless, as he raked in his winnings, or frowned with a heavy lowering look as often as fortune turned against him. "JACK n/XTOX, THE GUARDSMAA'. y)7 Marshal Bluclier— for it was he — was an impassioned paliihlor, and needed not the excitement of the champagne, which he drank eagerly from time to time, to stimulate his passion for play. As I turned from the rouqe et noir table, I remarked that every now and then some person left the room by a small door, which, concealed by a mirror, had escaped my attention when i entered. On inquiry, I found that this passage led to a secret part of the establishment, which only a certain set of players frequented, and where the tables were kejit open during the entire day and night. Curious to see the interior of this den of greater iniquity, I presented myself at it, and on opening found myself in a narrow corridor, where a servant demanded my billet. Having informed him tliat I was merely there from motives of curiosity, I offered him a Napoleon, which speedily satisfied his scruples. He conducted me to the end of the gallery, where, touching u spring, the door opened, and I found myself in a room considerably smaller than the S(don, and, with the exception of being less brilliantly lighted, equally splendid in its decorations. Around on all sides were small partitions, like the cells in a London coffee-house, where tables were pro- vided for parties to sup at. These were now unoccnj)ied, the greater attraction of high play having drawn every one around the table, where the same monotonous sounds of the cr()U[)ier's voice, the same patter of the cards, and the same clinking of the gold, continued unceasingly. The silence of the saluu was as nothing to the stillness that reigned here. Not a voice save the banker's was ever heard — each bettor placed his money on the red or black square of the table without speaking— and the massive rouleaus were passed backwards and forwards with no other sound save the noise of the rake. I remarked, too, that tho stakes seemedfar heavier; crumpled rolls of billets dc hnvqite were often thrown down ; and from the mulHed murmur of the banker, I could hear such sums as " seven thousand," " ten thousand francs," called out. It was some time before I could approach near enough to see the play; at last I edged my way to the front, and obtained a place behind the croupier's chair, where a good view of the table was presented to me. The different nations with their ditfeient costumes, tongues, and expressions so strangely congregated, were a study that might have amused me for a long time, had not a chance word of English spoken close by me drawn olf my attention. Immediately in front, but with their backs towards me, sat two persons, who seemed, as was often the habit, to play in concert. A large heap of gold and notes lay before them, and several cards, marked with pin holes to chronicle the run of the game, were scattered about. Unable to E E 398 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. see their faces, I was struck by one singular, but decisive mark of their difference in condition and rank — the hands of one ■were fair and dehcate almost as a woman's — the blue veins circled clearly through them, and rings of great price and brilliancy glittered on the fingers ; those oi the other were coarse, brown-stained, and ill cared for ; the sinewy fingers and strong bony knuckles denoting one accustomed to laborious exertions. 3t was strange that two persons, evidently so wide apart in their walks in life, should be thus associated; and feeUng a greater interest, from the chance phrase of English one of them had dropped, I watched them closely. By degrees I could mark that their difference m dress was no less conspicuous , for although the more bumble was well, even fashionably attired, he had not the same distinctive marks which chnracterized his companion as a person of class and condition. While I looked the pile of gold before them had gradually melted down to some io,"^ pieces ; and as they bent down their heads over the cards, and concerted as to their play, it was clear that by their less frequent ventures they were becoming more cautious. " No, no," said he, who seemed to be the superior, " I'll not risk it." " I say yes, yes," muttered the other, in a deeper voice ; " the roucje can't go on for ever : it has passed eleven times." " I know," said the former, bitterly ; " and I have lost seven- teen thousand francs." " Yoih have lost ! " retorted the other, savagely, but in the same low tone ; " why not voq ? Am 1 for nothing in all this.?" '• Come, come, Ulick, don't be in a passion." The name and the tone of the speaker startled me; I leaned forward ; my very head reeled as I looked. It was Lord Dudley de Vere and Ulick Burke. The rush of passionate excitement that ran through me for a minute or two, to be thus thrown beside the two only enemies I had ever had. lannerved me so far that I could not collect myself. To call them forth at once, and charge them with their baseness towards me, was my first rapid thought; to dare them openly and denounce them before that crowded assembly ; but from this wild thrill of anger I was soon turned, as Burke's voice, elevated to a tone of passion, called out — " Hold ! I am going to bet ! " The banker stopped— the cards still rested in his hands. " I say, sir, I will do it," said Burke, turning to De Vere, whose cheek was now pale as death, and whose disordered and haggard air was increased by his having torn off his cravat and opened the collar of his shirt, "i say I will— do you gainsay me ? " continued he, laying oa the words an accent of such con- JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 399 temptuous insolence that even De Vere's eye fired at it. " Vingt mille francs, nolv,'" said Burke, placing his last bilbi on the tahle : and the words were scarce spoken when the banker cried out — " Xo'if pent et j^nssc." A horrible curse broke from Burke as he fixed his staring eye- balls on the outspread cards, and counted over the numbers to himself. " You see, Burke," said De Vere. "Don't speak to me. now, d n you," said the other, with clenched teeth. De Vere pushed back his chair, and rising, moved through the crowd towanls au open window. Burke sat with his head buried between liis hands for some seconds, and then starting up at the banker's call, cried out — " 1)1,1^ ouiUe. itoir ! " A kind of half suppressed laugh ran round the tahle at .seeing that he had no funds, while he still offered to bet. Ilethrew his eyes upon the board ; and then as quickly turned them on the players. One by one his dark lock was bent on them, as if to search out some victim for his hate; but all were hushed. Many as reckless as himself were there — many as utterly ruined — but not one so lost 10 hope. '* Who laughed ? " said he in French, while the thick veins of his ibrelipad stood out like cordage; and then, as none answered to his challenge, he rose slowly, still scowling with the malignity of a demon. " May I have your seat, monsieur ? " said a dapper little Frenchman, with a smile and a bow, as Burke moved away. " Yes, take it," said he, as lifting the strong chair with one hand he dashed it upon the floor, smashing it to pieces with a crash that shook the room. The crowd which made way for him to pass out, as speedily closed again around the table, where the work of ruin still went forward ; not a passing glance was turned from the board to look alter the beggared gambler. The horrible indifference the players had shown to the suffer- ings of this wretched man so thoroughly disgusted me, that I could no longer bear even to look on the game ; the passion of ])luy had shown itself to me now in all its most repulsive form, and I turned with abhorrence from the table. My mind agitated by a number of emotions, and my heart now swelling with triumphant vengeance, now filled with pity lor the sake of him who had ruined my fortunes for ever, I sat in one of the small boxes I have mentioned ; which, dimly lighted, had not yet been sought by any of the players to sup in. A closely drawn curtain separated lihe little place I occupied 4oo JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. from tlie adjoining one, where from time to time I heard the clink of glasses, and the noise of champagne corks. At first I supposed that some other solitary individual had established himself there to enjoy his winnings, or brood over his losses ; when at last I could hear the low muttering of voices, which ere long I recognised as belonging to Burke and De Vere. Burke, who evidently from his tone and manner possessed the mastery over his companion, no longer employed the insulting accents I had witnessed at the table ; on the contrary, he con- descended to flatter — affected to be delighted with De Vere'swit and sharpness ; and more than once insinuated, that with such an associate, he cared little what tricks fortune played them ; or to use his own phrase, " they were sure to come round." De Vere's voice, which I could only hear at rare intervals, told that he had drunk deeply ; and that between wine and his losses a kind of reckless desperation had seized him, which gave to his manner and words a semblance of boldness which his real char- acter lacked completely. When I knew that Burke and De Vere were the persons near me, I rose to leave the spot. The fear of playing the eaves- dropper forbade ray remaining; but as I stood up the mention of my name uttered in a tone of vengeance by Burke, startled me, and I listened. " Yes," said he, striking his hand upon the table, and confirm- ing his assertion with a horrible oath. " Yes ; for him and through him my uncle left me a beggar. But already I have had my revenge ; though it shan't end there." " You don't mean to have him out again : confound him, he's a devilish good shot — winged you already. Eh % " Burke, unmindful of the interruption, continued — " It was I that told my uncle how this fellow was the nephew of the man that seduced his own wife. I worked upon the old man so that he left house and home, and wandered through the country till mental irritation, acting on a broken frame, became fever, and then death." " Died— eh .P glorious nephew you are, by Jove. What next?" " I'll tell you : I forged a letter in his handwriting to Louisa, written as If on his death-bed, commanding as his last prayer tliat she should never see Hinton again ; or if by any accident they should meet, that she should not recognize him nor know him." " Devilish clever, that : egad, a better martingale than that you invented a while ago. I say, pass the wine— red tourteen times —wasn't it fourteen? — and if it had not been for your cursed obstinacy I'd have backed the red. See, fifty Naps.— one hun- dred — four — eight — sixteen — thirty-four — or six — which is it ? — oh, confounded stupidity ! " JACK JIJNTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 401 " Come, come, Dudley, better luck another time. Louisa's eyes must have been too kindly bent on you, or you'd have been more fortunate." " Eh ? you think she likes me? — capital champapne that— I always thought she did from the first. That's what I call walk- ing int^ide of Hinton. How he'll look — ha ! ha ! ha ! " " Yes, how he'll look," echoed Burke, endeavouring to join the laugh. " But now one thing is yet wanting." " You mean those despatches," repliod De Vere, suddenly. " You always come back to that. Well, once for all, 1 say, no ! " "Just hear me, Dudley: nothing is easier — nothing incurs less risk." " Less risji ! what do you mean ? No risk for me to steal the papers of the embassy, and give them to yon to hand over to that scoundrel at the head of the secret ])olice P devilish green I may be, but not so green as that. Master Burke." " Guillemain will give us forty thousand francs. Forty thou- sand ! with half that, and your luck, De Vero, we'll break every banque in Paris. I know you don't wish to marry Louisa." " No ; hang it, that's always the wind up. Keep that for the last throw — eh ! There's heavy play there — sec how silent they are." " Ay ; and with forty thousand francs we might join them," said Burke, as if musing ; " and so safely it may be done." " I say no ! " replied De Vere, resolutely, " What do you fear ? is it me ? '' *' No, not you ; I believe you ai-e true enough — your own neck will be in the rope. too ; so you'll say nothing; but I won't do it — ])ass the champagne — there's something so devilish black- guard in stealing a man's papers." Burke started, as if the tones of his companion's voice had stung him like an adder. " Have you thought over your present condition ? " said Burke, firmly; "you have not a guinea left — your debts in Paris alone, to my knowledge, are above forty thousand francs ! " " I'll never pay a livre of them — damned swindlers and Jew noney-lenders," was the cool reply. " Might not some scrupulous moralist hint there was some- ching blackguard in that?'' said Burke, with slow and distinct irticulation. "What!" replied De Vere; "do you come here to tutor me — a low- bred horse-jockey — a spy? Take off your hands, sir, or I'll alarm the room ; let loose my collar." " Come, como, my lord, we're both in fault," said Burke, smothering his passion with a terrible efibrt : " we of all mcu 4o2 JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. must not quarrel. Play is to us the air we breathe, the light we live in. Give me your hand." " Allow me to draw on my glove first," said De Vere, in a tone of incomparable insolence. " Champagne here ! " said Burke to the waiter, as he passed, and for some minutes neither spoke. The clock chimed a quarter to two, and Burke started to his feet. " I must be going,'' said he, hastily ; " I should have been at the Porte St. Martin by half-past one." "Salute the Jacobite Club, de ma part," said De Vere, with an insulting laugh, " and tell them to cut everybody's throat in Paris, save old Lafitte's ; he has promised to do a bill for me in the morning." " You'll not need his kindness so soon," replied Burke, " if you are willing to take my advice — forty thousand francs " " Would he make it sixty, think you ? " " Sixty ! " said Burke, with animation ; " I'm not sure, but shall I say for sixty you'll do it ? " "No, I don't mean that; I was only anxious to know if these confounded rigmaroles I have to copy sometimes, could possibly interest any one to that amount." Burke tried to laugh, but the hollow chuckle sounded like the gulping of a smothering man. " Laugh out," said De Vere, whose voice became more and more indistinct as his courage became stronger ; " that mutter- ing is so devilish like a spy — a rascally, low-bred " A heavy blow — a half-uttered cry followed, and De Vere fell with a crash to the floor, his face and temples bathed with blood; while Burke, sp)ringing to the door, darted downstairs and gained the street before pursuit was thought of. A few of the less interested about the table assisted me to raise the fallen man, from whose nose and mouth the blood flowed in torrents. He was perfectly senseless, and evinced scarcely a sign of life, as we carried him downstairs, and placed him in a carriage. " Where to? " said the coachman, as I stood beside the door. I hesitated for a second, and then said, " No. 4, Place Vendome." JACK IIINTOX, THE GUARDSMAN. 403 CHAPTER LX. DISCLOSURES. I HAVE more than once heard physicians remark the singular immunity a fool's skull seems to possess from the evil effects of injury, as if nature, when denying a governing faculty, had, in kind compensation, imparted a triple thickness to the head thus exposed. It is well known how among the educated and think- ing classes, many maladies are fatal, which are comparatively innocuous among those whose hands alone are called on to labour. A very ingenious theory might be spun from this fact, to the manifest self-gratulation of fox-hunters, sailors, gentlemen who assault the new police, tithe proctors, and others ; for the present I have no further use for the remark, than as it bore upon the head-piece of Lord Dudley de Vere, whose admirable developments had received little or no damage from the rude assault of his companion. When he awoke the next morning, he was only aware that something unusual had occurred: and gradually by "trying back" in his sensations, he i-emembered every particle that took place — had the clearest recollection of the " run upon red " — knew the number of bottles of champagne he had partaken of, and was only puzzled by one thing — what could possibly have suggested the courage with wliich he con- fronted Burke, and the hardihood that led him to insult him. As to any awkwardness at being brought home to the house of the person he had himself so ill-treated, he never felt any thing approaching to it ; the extent of his reasoning on this point only went to his satisfaction, that " some one " took care of him, and that he was not left to lie on the floor of the " salon." Tliis admirable philosophy of his served in a great measure to relieve me from the constraint I felt in. presenting myself before him, and soon put me perfectly at my ease in our inter- view. After learning that, except some head-aching sensations, the only inconvenience he experienced was an unconquerable thirst, 1 touched slightly on the cause of his misfortune, when, what was my astonishment to discern that he not only did not entertain a particle of ill-will towards the man who had so 404 JACK HINTON, THE GVARDSMAN. brutally ill-treated him, but actually grew warm in his panegyric of Burke's consummate skill and address at play — such qualities in his estimation being well worthy to cover any small blemishes of villainy his character might suffer under. " 1 say, don't you think Burke a devilish sharp fellow ? he's up to everything, and so cool — so confoundedly cool ; not last night, though ; no, by Jove! he lost temper completely. I k\vA\ be marked with that knock, eh? Damn me, it was too Ijad ; he must apologise for it. You know he was drunk, and somehow he was all wrong the whole evening ; he wouldn't let me back the ' rouge,' and such a run — you saw that, I suppose." I assented with a nod, for I still hesitated how far I should communicate to him my knowledge of Burke's villainy towards myself. •' By-the-bye, it's rather awkward my being here ; you know your people have cut me ; don't you think I might get a cab to bring me over to the Kue d'Alger ? " There was something which touched me in the simplicity of this remark, and I proceeded to assure him that any former im- pressions of my friends would not be remembered against him at that moment. " Oh ! that I'm sure of. No one ever thinks it worth while to bear malice against a poor devil like me; but if I'd have backed the red " " Colonel O'Grady is in the drawing-room," said a servant in alow voice to me at this instant; and leaving Lord Dudley to speculate on the contingences of his having " backed the red," I joined my friend, whom I had not seen on the previous day. We were alone, and in ten minutes I explained to him the entire discovery I had fallen upon, concealing only my affection for Lousia Bellew, which I could not bring myself even to allude to. " I see," said Phil, when I concluded — " I see you are half disposed to forgive De Vere all his rascality. Now, what a dif- ferent estimate we take of men ; perhaps — I can't say — it is because I am an Irishman— but I lean to the bold-faced villain Burke : the miserable, contemptible weakness of the one is far more intolerable to me than the rufSan effrontery of the other. Don't forget the lesson I gave you many a year ago : a fool is always a blackguard. Now, if that fellow could see his com- panion this minute, there is not a circumstance he has noticed here that he would not retail, if it bore to your disadvantage. Un- touched by your kindness to him, he would sell you, ay, to the very man you saved him from. But, after all, what have we to do with him ? Our first point is to rescue this poor girl's name from being ever mixed with his; any thing further is, of JACK niATON, THE GUARDSMAN. 40; course, out of the question. The Rooneys are goin;? back- I saw Paul this mornintf — ' the Criiiskeeii Lawn ' has been their ruin — all the Irish oflicers who had taken JMadaine de lioni for an illustrious stranger have found out the true scent; and so many distinguished persons are involved in the ridicule of their parties, lliat the old cJn'f de police, my friend, has sent them a private order to leave Paris in a week. I'aul is in rai)tures at it — he has spent eighteen thousand in two months — detests tho place — is dying to be back in Dublin — and swears that except one Cossack officer he hasn't met a pleasant fellow since he came abroad." " And Mrs. Paul ? " " Oh ! the old stor}'. I put Guillemain up to it, and he has hinted that the Empress of Kussia has heard of the Czar's attentions — that there's the devil to pay in St. Petersburg — and that if she doesn't manage to steal out of Paris slyly, some confounded boyard or other will slip a sack over her head and carry her off to Tol)olsk. Elizabeth and the Exiles has formed part of her reading, and Madame de Roni will dream every night of the knout till she reaches her dear native land. But now to business. I, too, have made my discoveries since we met. De Vere's high play has been a matter of surprise to all who know him. I have found out his secret — he plays with forged billets de banque." " And has the wretched fellow gone so far as this ? " "lie doesn't know it— he believes that the money is the proceeds of bills he has given to Burke, who affects to get them discounted. See here — here are a handful of their notes — Guillemain knows all, and retains the secret as a hold over Burke, whose honesty to himself he already suspects. If ho catch him tripping " " Then " " Why, then, the galleys for life. Such is the system — a villain with them is worthless if his life isn't at their disposal — Satan's bond completely — all, all. But show me De Vere's room, and leave me alone with him for half an hour. Let us then meet at my hotel, and concert future measures." Having left O'Grady with De Vere, I walked out upon tho boulevards, my head full of the extraordinary facts so suddenly thronging one upon the other. A dash of hope, that for many a day had not visited me, was now mingled through all my meditations, and I began to think that there was yet a chance of liappiness for me. I had not gone many paces when an arm was thrust into mine, and a hearty chuckling laugh at the surprise rang in Biy ear. I turned — it was Mr. Paul Rooncy, taking his morn- ing's promenade of Paris, and now on his way home with a(i 4o6 JACK hINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. enormous bouquet for madame, wliicli she had tauglit him to present to lier each day on her aj^pearing in the drawing-room. " -Ah ! captain, the very man I wanted. We haven't had a moment to ourselves since your arrival. You must come and. take a bit of dinner with us to-day — thank heaven we've no company. I have a leg of pork, smuggled into the house as if it was a bale of goods from Alexandria, Nobody knows of it but myself and Tim." " Tim ! why, have you brought Tim to Paris ? " "Hush," said he in a low cautious voice; "I'd be ruined entirely if madame was to find him out. Tim is dressed hke a Tartar, and stands in the hall ; and Mrs. Eooney believes that he never heard of a civil bill in his life. But here we are." So saying, he opened a small wicket with a latch key, and led me into a large and well-trimmed garden, across which we walked at a rapid pace; Paul speculating from the closed shutters of his wife's room that he needed not have hurried home so fast. " She's not down yet— one o'clock as Pm a sinner. Come along and sit down in the library ; I'll join you presently." Scarcely had Paul left the room when I began to think over the awkwardness of my position should I meet Miss Bellew ; what course to follow under the circumstances I knew not; when just at the moment the door opened, and she entered. Not perceiving me, as I stood in a deep window recess, she drew a chair to the fire and sat down. I hardly ventured to breathe — I felt like one who had no right to obtrude himself there, and had become, as it were, a spy upon her. A long drawn breath burst from me ; she started up ; I moved slightly forward, and stood before her. She leaned her hand upon the arm of the chair for support, her cheek grew deadly pale ; and a tremulous quiver shook her lip. "Mr. Hinton," she began; and then as if the very soimd of her voice had terrified her, she paused. "Mr. Hinton," resumed she, "I am sure — nay, I know — if you were aware of the reasons of my conduct towards you, you would not only acquit me of all blame, but spare me the pain of our ever meeting.'' " I know them— I do know them," said I passionately ; " I fiave been slandered." " No, you do not, cannot know what I mean," interrupted she. " It is a secret between my own heart and one who is now no more." The last words fell from her one by one, while a single tear rolled from her eyelid, and trickled along her cheek. " Yes, yes, Lousia ; I do know it — I know all; a chance has told me how vour dear father's name has been used to banish JACK JIINTON, THE GUARDSMAN. 407 me for tver from your sight— how a forgery of hia hand- writing " " What ! who could have told you what my father's last note contained ? " " Ife who wrote it confessed it in my hearing — Uliclc Burlco : nay, I can even repeat the words ." But as I spoke, a violent trembling seized her, her lips became bloodless, she tottered, and sank upon the chair. I had only time to spring forward and catch her in my arms, and her head fell heavily back, and dropped on my shoulder. I cannot, if I would, repeat the words which, in all the warm ploquence of affection I spoke. I could mark by her heightened colour that the life's blood again coursed freely in her veins; and could see that she heard me. I told her how through every hardship and suffering, in all the sorrow of disap- pointed ambition, in the long hours of captivity, my heart had ever turned to her : and then, when we did meet, to see her changed ! '• But you do not blame — you cannot blame me if I believed " " No, if you tell me now that but for tliis falsehood you have not altered— that your heart is still as much my own as I once thought it." A faint smile played on her lips as her eyes were turned upon me; while her voice muttered — '' And do you still love me ? " I pressed her hand to my lips in rapture, when suddenly the door opened, and Paul Ilooney ruslied in. " Another candidate for the leg of . Eh ? what's this? " said he, as I rose and advanced to meet him. While Louisa, blusliing deeply, buried her head in her hand; and then start- in