The old Irish baronet; or, Manners of my country

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THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

A NOVEL.

Lane, Darling, and Co, Leadenhall-Stieet,

THE

■0£D IMSM BARONET

on,

MANNERS OF MY COUNTRY.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

BY

HENRIETTA ROUVIERE,

jlinHOR OF

LUSSiyCTON AEEF.Y, HEIRS OF VILLEKOY5 A PEEP

AT OUR ANCESTORS, S^'C. SfC.

^' The Jrish are a ■'*-arm, benevolent, hospitable race— the latter proverbially—
steadfast in their affections, teneious ir. their friendships, and grateful for every act
of iciodness. But they are tenacieus of their rights ; passionate, when insulted, and
proud to a fault. The master,. who treats them with generosity, will be served with
ja'thfalness. The arrot;ant ?uperior, wl.o lords it over them, will feel tlieir reseut-
rrer.t. Indifference is ret their characteristic ; they are enthusiastic in the extreme>
n.d titner Icve with fervour or hste with violence."

VOL. I.

LONDON:
PRINTED AT THE

FOR LANE, NEWMAN, AND CO,

LEADENH ALL-STREET,
1808,

THE

OL© imiSH BARONET,

i®®W«*"— ->

CHAP. I.

** No natural exhalation in the sky,
No shape of nature, no distemper'd day.
No common wind, no customed event.
But they will pluclc away its natural cause.
And call them meteors, prodigies and signs;.
Abortives and presages, tongues of Heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance."

Shakespeare.

I'D gv

ve twenty guineas to know who

i It was first spread the report," cried Sir

5* 'Thomas O'Callaghan, in no very dulcet

5 tone of voice, to his old butler, Connolly,

VOL. I, ]} as

I

3 THE OLD iniSH BAKONET.

as lie one morning arranged the downy
supporters of the Baronet's gouty legs.

** Faith, and its vur Honour's own silf
that might," replied the veteran domes-
tic, . ''and as miny thousands to the back
of 'em, afore yu'd be after finding the
right body; bekays, dye- see, Sir Tho-
raas, the story's as owldas mysilf, or may
be my fadther width me together. Och,
I rimimber, when I was a small little bit
ofagarsoon, hearing all the neighbours
a talking about the owld chapel in the
wood, and the beautiful Span" —

** Damn the neighbours," hastily ex-
claimed the master, *' and their cursed
will- o'th'- wisp, jack-o'th'-laiitliorn non-
sense. How has it happened th,at / never
heard any thing of it till the other day,
notwithstanding the chapel is on my
estate, and th-e story so immediately con^
Tiected with my predecessors? It^s all a
bam, Connolly^ to scare j/(?«, and such
like foolish gentry, out of what little wits
you have got."

/' Why,

THE OLD IRII^H BAHONET. 3

'* Why, yur Honour/' cried the
man, with an energetic motion o^ his
head and hand, while the tone of his
voice as strenuously assisted his ac-
tions, ** I see them with my own two
eyes ; and seeing's believing, Sir Tho-
mas : and moreover nor that, Father
Dunlavie, the parkh priest, was after
biryin *eni the day afore, and saying
three masses over the grave/*

** And what the devil did you see,
Connolly V* asked the Baronet \yith
quickness. **Eh! What did you see?
Or what was it the priest said his hocus
pocus over ?"

** The bones, yur Honour,'* replied
th^ Servian t. *' The poor ristless bones,
that, as oftin as they are put down in the
ground, is always to be seen above it**

*' Then some person Stakes them up, I
presume," said Sir Thomas, ** to amuse
themselves at the expence of the holy
father and his credulous parishioners : but
did he take care to trench them deep
B % enough,

4 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

enough, I warrant they would not rise
in haste.*'

'^ Why, Sir/'exclaimed Connolly, with

a look of dismay, '* there is not a living

'sowl wouhl go near the place, harn it be

Miss Ellen and her little dog, and she,

tbrsartin, is not afeard of nothing/'

** So much the better," cri^d the mas-
ter, in a more complaisant tone, *' so
much the better. I don't admire your
fine ladies that are terrified at their own
shadow, with their nerves, and their feel-
ings, and their Psha ! All affecta-
tion 1 If I thought my daughter was to
be frightened at every old woman's story,
confound me if I would not make her
sleep in this said chapel, just to cure her
of her terrors. I've a good mind to give
you a bed there, Connolly, for a night
or two, to try how you would rest in the
ruins/*

*' The Lord forbid I" ejaculated the
trembling servant; " for if the ghosts did
not run away width me, to a mortaUdLXimty

the

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 5

IRe good people would ; for we all know
thej/ are about the place iviry night ; and
Molly, one of the kitchen maids, has
seed the little lady in white as oftin as
she has fingers and toes. To be sure,
thank God, I nivrr seed none of thim,.
barn oncet, and thin I tuck good care to
shut my eyes not to luck at them. I rimim-
bir the nio;ht will inouoh — it^s more nor
twinty years back, about three o'clock
of a fine frosty mornings that I was a
driving my dear Lady that's did and
gone, Lord rist her pricious sowl ! for
you know. Sir Thomas, she had me . to
drive the chay whinivir she used to be
out late, bekays she said L was a safer
whip nor iny of the tother min. So she
was a cuming home from the assimbly, I
think tliey called it, or sum place like
that, and Larry was riding afore us on-
the grey mare Vixen, the horse that woa
the sweepstakes for yur Honour on the
Curragh. I ricollict little Thady Carroll
was the jockey, and he looked so nate iri:
B 3 his^

1> THE OLD IRI5II. BARONBT. '

his red scharlet striped sjlk jacket. Hf
was a pritty boy, Sir Thomas, and so was
{lis sister, Piggy Carroll ; she was mar-
fied to Paddy Thacker, the Squire's
'whipper-in ; och, faith, and its mysilf
was in love width her ; but no matter for
that, yur Honour. So, just as we crossed
the iomvionSf over tother side beyant the
bridge there, all of a suddent Larry faces
about — * Stop,* says he, in a low voice
that v/e cudn't hear him. I pi»lls up,
flunking as hew I was a going wrong,
tho' I knowd every inch of the way Ijlind-
foulded ; and well I might, for my fad ther
and modthtr v/as born and brid not a
stone's throw from the place. * Arrah !
what's the matter, Larry ?* says I — ' The
good peoplcy' says he, * all making mirry
in the middle of the road, and we must
not disturb therru" — * What's the matter,
Connolly V says my Lady, putting her
hid thorough the window — och ! but the
devil be from me if Connolly could spake
a word at all at all ; * only,' say$ I; ' thq

good

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 7

good people, my Lady;' and with that I
shuts both my eyes, and said ovir my
pater noster, and ave maria— * Turn about,
Connolly/ cried she; * don't go a stip
forwards for yur life. Blessed Saint
Bridget protect and save us T I supposes-
to be sure yui* Honour knows all about
Saint Bridget, and that whin Saint Pa*
trick was hereabouts, she just axed hini
to give hqr as much ground as she could-
kiver width her mantle, so the Suint pro-
mised her he woud ; and width that she*
sprids out her cloaky and it stritched all
over the Cuiragh, and would have kiver*
ed all Ireland, they say,, only Saint Pa-
trick got into a passion, and^— och ! but
that's not my story. So, as I was a say-
ing— let me see, where was I^ — aye! so-
width that, Sir Thomas, I just vintured
to open the corner of one of my eyes,
and, as sure as you live, there was no-
thing at all to be seen, but a clear road
afore us to go on, for the good people had
vanished clivir and clane away, bekays
BL.4i ' they

8 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

they found us so civil to them; and I
nivir cracked cry, yur Honour, till we
*ivas safe landid at Princely Hall."

The Baronet was rather of an irritable
disposition, and the disorder under which
he at present laboured did not serve to
soften the natural impetuosity of his tem-
per. He had listened to this long ha^
rangue of the butler's with no great symp-
toms of patience, as he alternately fidget-
ted his elbows from the arms of his great
chair, to the table which stood before
him ; rubbed his hand over the flannels
that enveloped his legs, or threw up his
night-cap to scratch his head ; yet, from
Lady O'Callaghan being mentioned in
the detail, he suffered his garrulous old
servant to continue in it uninterrupted,
while his countenance expressed pity for
the narrator's absurd credulity (with
which he was well acquainted), and im-
patience to learn the allusion of a story,
v»'herein he could connect neither sense

or meaning.

/' By

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. ' 9"

'* By the Lord Harry 1" exclaimed he,.
\vith an affected stare of astonishment,
*' tlie fellow is crazed,, to a. certainty!
Why, what the devil have you been talk-
ing about this half hour? What rigma-
role tale is this of your Lady and Larry,
twenty years ago? What people are yoii
speaking of?"

Connolly looked round cautiously. He
approached Sir Thomas's chair, and, lean-
ing over it, in a kind of half whisper,
replied — ** The good little people^ yur
Honour, the fairies.''

Sir Thomas had a custom of giving a'
long whistle, when any thing particularly
struck him, and he now drew. up his lips
Avith an immoderate lengthened whew 1
— *' Damn you and the fairies together !"
he exclaimed with vehenTence. ** I wish
they had fast hold of you. Am I always
to be tormented, with your cursed non-
sense? Get me my breakfast, and go to
th,e devil — but first desire. Miss O'Calla-
ghan to come to me, if she is returned
B, 5 . from

10 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

from her morning^s \valk. You old cre-
dulous dotard, I wonder I have patience
to keep you about nie. Get out of my
sight ! And, harkye, never let my door

be opened to that canting son of a ,

Father Dunlavie. It is he who has set
your wits wool-gathering ; but if ever I
catch him inside this house again — no
matter ; go and do as I ordered you, and
don't let me see j/owr face these twenty-
four hours."

Connolly walked away repeating his
*^ pater noster," and praying for the re-
formation of his incredulous master ; but
not with the mtention of fulfilling any
of his commands, save those relating to
Miss O'Callaghan and the breakfast ; for
he had lived too long with the worthy
Baronet to be ignorant of his ways. He
was well avare that his starts of anger
were but momentary, and no sooner utter-
ed than forgotten. No passion-held root
in his heart, except universal philanthro-
py, and an ardent affection for his

daughter \

THE OLD IRISH EAKONET. 11

daughter ; and, however convinced of
the errors of luiman nature, he was not
to be prejudiced against any individual
by evil reports, nor biassed by the judg-
ment of others to the disadvantage of his
fellow- creatures. He must be convinced
by positive facts, ere he gave any credit
to such information, no matter what sta-
tion in life the accused held, or what the
nature of the accusation ; and even then
he rather pitied than condemned the frail-
ties so incident to all created beings. .

Miss O'Callaghan tript into ther par-
lour with a lightness of foot. that, would
have scarce bowed beneath it: the delicate
lily of the vale, which decked, her bosom*
Her straw bonnet, carelessly tied under
her chin, and thrown at the back of her
head, was ornamented with a wreath of
wild field fiOwers, which, as she disen-
cumbered herself of, her beautiful dark
shining hair flowed negligently over her
fair neck, and sported in fanciful ringlets
as the. morning breeze had dispersed it^ .
B G and

12 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

and heightened on her dimpled cheek the
glo^y of health, innocence, and happi-
ness. The heart of the Baronet expand-
ed into rapture when his Ellen appeared ;
Connolly was aware it would, and fol-
lowed her in with the tea equipage, lie
had no occasion to examine the counte-
nance of Sir Thomas, to penetrate what
temper he was now in ; there was a smile
of joy diffused over it, and the mandate
to the old butler was no longer remem-
bered.

'' See, papa,'' cried Miss O'Callaglian,
taking the wreath from her bonnet,
" what a beautiful chaplet I have woven
for 3^our hair — your night-cap, 1 mean.
Come, let me decorate it, and I siiall
imagine you one of the pastoral swains
1 have somewhere reatl of, gaily decked
out in your native symbols, tolead a joy-
ous village groupe.*'

** Thou little flatterer 1" exclaimed the
delighted parent ; '* rather old father
Pan, or one of his satyrs !'*

'' I have

- THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 13

'* I have been to the old chapel, papa,
in search of adventures," resumed Eiien,
as she commenced her repast, with the
appetite, not of a fine lady, labouring
under the distinguishing traits of vapour
and sf^en, a martyr to the fashionable
overthrow of rational hours, but witli a
degree. of hunger perfectly rotarier with
the zest of a vulgar healthy country lass^
who could boast of seeing the sunshine
every day it was visible, and even — O
, disgraceful reflection on a young lady of
quality ! even behold its majestic appear-
ance in the east, and watch its western
decline from her bed-room windows, as
^she prayed to tts great Author, and re-
tired to her peaceful pillow without once
dreammg of illuminated halls, nightly
diimers, thronged assemblies, or moniing
suppers f— the daughter of a wealthy Ba-
ronet, in her sixteenth year, not yet
initiated in any one fashionable folly !«— ^
cry ye mercy — I ask pardon — fashionable
extravagance—worse and worse — but no-

jiiatter,

X4 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

matter, let it go — the votaries of its circle
will give the appropriate appellation.

** In search of adventures, my Ellen !**
cried the Baronet.

f ** Why, no, not exactly those," re-
plied the smiling girl; *' but to j^plore
the mysteries which report says are con-
nected witli the venerable pile."

Connolly leaned over her chair — *^ And.
did you see the bones, Miss Ellen?''

*VSee the devil 1** exclaimed Sir Tho-
mas, in a half peevish tone.

** Nay, but my dear papa,'" hastily^
interrupted Miss OX'allaghsm, *' don't
be angry at Connolly's question ; it's a
very natunil one, I think, for all the
neighbourhood talks of the story ; and if
it has excited the curiosity of youth, why
npt awaken that of age? Yes, my good i
Connolly, I did indeed see them. And.
they are of such a size too ! Mercy on
me, I could have supposed them the re-
mains of some of the Irish giants ! When
you are able to walk out, papa, won't,

you

TIIi: OLD IRISH BARONET, 15

you come and look at them also? — Is it
not very strange," she went on, *' that
the people say tliese bones will not rest
under ground ; and do you know the rea-
son, papa ?'*

The Baronet shook his head in the ne-
gative.

'' Why then, it is said," continued she,
'^ that they never will rest in peace till
the lawful heirs of those deceased persons
are discovered."

Sir Thomas gave one of his long whistles.

'' Aye, Miss Ellen/' cried the faithful
adherent of the marvellous, *' that's the
story, sure enough — they are the bones
of Lord Duncarty, and the beautiful Spa-
nish lady, his wife. He wint to the wars,
some sixty or sivinty years ago, where he
was kilt and murthered, poor dear gentle-
man, and cumd home to die amung his
own people. He was a good man, they
say, and so was his wife too — she was a
Roman Catholic. So whin my Lord cums
home, what did he find but his Lady did
3 and

IG THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

and birid, and their little son gone, no
body at all cud tell where; only, to
be sure, people guisst will inough what was
cum'd o{ him,'' ,

' *'And what did they guess ?'* v/as the
Baronet's quick interrogation.

** Why, yur Honour," answered Con-
nolly, *' that he was carried off for a
sartinty by the good people/'

Another immoderate long *' whew !'*
from Sir Thomas, gave testimony of his
invincible incredulity.

*' The good people,'' repeated Ellen-—
and, after "a minute's pause — **Qyes! I
know; the fairies, you mean, Connolly."
** Yts, Miss/* he replied, with a signi-
ficant shake of his head. *^ And as, to
be sure, yur Honour knows there is just
such anither story — aye, and as true a
one too, concarning of the owld castle
on the hill beyant, over therefurnenst us.
We can't see it from this, Miss Ellen, be-
kays its at the tother side of the liouse. ,
But a gintlemaii, and. his whole intire-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 17

family, ^v^s taken off body and bones,
holus poluSy as one may say, in the night
by 'em, and lift all alone by thimsilves in
the middle of a great wide hathe, so that
they did not know noth" —

** I wish," hastily ejcclaimed Sir Tho-
mas, and relapsing into his irritable tone,
** I wish these good people had been kind
enough to take the bones in the old cha-
pel along with the heir of the family, and
your old bones into the bargain, Con-
nolly, and then /should be at rest 5 for,
confound me if you're not a greater tor-
ment than the gout. That is kind
enough to confine itself to my feet ; but
you, you torture me all over, both in
mind and body, with your cursed non-
sense. But it's all the priest's doings — -
I know it is. He tells you a parcel of
trash, to pick the money out of your
pockets, by pretending to drive away
evil spirits with his masses, and his holy
water; and his — Psha ! Why the devil do
you allow yourselves to be made such
fools of? And why do I shew myself as

great

18 THE OLI> IRISH EARONEr^

great a fool, by spending my breath in
any argument on the subject, when you
mil be bliiul to ecmmon sense ? — Do you.
believe in God, Connolly?"

** As sure as I believe I have a sow] to
be saved by 9im, yur Honour," replied
the pld man, devoutly raising his hand&
and eyes,

** And how do you think your soul is
to be saved by Him alone," resumed the
Baronet, with solemnity, *' when you
believe there are beings in this world en-
dowed with a superhuman power, to en-
thral the souls as well as bodies of His
creatures ; a power which, if we give credit
to, must be believed equal to his own?
Do you think the God of the universe
limits his omnipotence, by giving to visi-
onary beings an authority to govern hu-
nian existence — to counteract His high
will? — Why, Connolly, you are no better
than a Heathen, notwithstanding you
profess yourself a good Chiisiian, for they
had their gods, and you have yours.'*

** But width submission, yur Honour, '*^
^ , said.

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 19

said Connolly, '* I am no Hathm ; for I
don't kneel to no grave images, barn it
be to thim in the mass-house, and the
bhssid little silver figure that is tastined
to my badeSy and thim I only say my
prayers to. But I can't doubt of things
that iviry body knows is fact and truth,
although miny people, like yur Honour,
dusn't believe a word of it. But now,
only just lit me till you, Sir Thomas, all
about the prince— I forgits his name,
that has been did this hundred years or
more, and is living in that great owld
castle of Man'* — -

*' Don't tell me any more of your ridi-
culous tales — don't, Connolly, or you'll
put me into a passion," cried the master.
^•' I never before thought vou such an
arrant fool — God helj^ ) our poor sapscull,
that has already seen upwards of three-
score years over it, and not yet arrived
to the age of common understanding*
Poor creature, 1 pity you. Go — go to
the Reverend Mr. CJa^hcld^ and tell him

I am

20 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

I am so much better, that I am able to
sit up and entertain my friends, there-
fore shall be glad of the pleasure of his com-
pany to dinner to-morrow.''

The butler bowed, and was withdraw-
ing. Sir Thomas called him back again
— rubbed his hand two or three times
between his nightcap and forehead —
*' Connolly."

** Yur Honour" — a pause of silence.

** Ellen, my love."

** My dear papa" — another pause ; and
the Baronet went on rubbing till he drop-
ed the nightcap. Connolly bent to pick
it up, as did IMiss O'Callaghan.

** Let Ellen do it, Connolly ; she is
younger than me or you^ and not quite
so stiff in the back — I say, Connolly."

" Yes, yur Honour."

'^ That parish priest of your's, Father
Dunlavie, is a very good sort of a man,
I think, though he has his peculiarities."

*' Not a bitter living nor dead, Sir
Thomas.".

'*Well,

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 21

^* ^Vell, we liave all our oddities, and
why should not he have his ? He has not
been here some time ; to be sure, the last
<lay he called, he mentioned something
about these ol<l bones, and I believe I was
a little cross, or the gout was trouble-
some perhaps. Ask him to dinner also
to-morrow, Connolly ; I shall be glad of
his conipany."

^' O my dear papa, I am so pleased with
you for that."

*' Then Mr. Dunlavie is a favourite of
your's, my Ellen/'

*' YeS; indeed he is, papa, for I think
him a very amiable, and a very well-bred
man, and I am sure must be a good o.ne,
or he would not be so well loved as he is
by his parishioners. Then, whenever he
meets Hie, he enquires so kindly after
you^ and I understand has been constant-
ly to the Hall for that purpose, though
he did not leave his name, since that
day you have mentioned ; and he speaks
so well the French .language —just hke

Mr,

-^0

THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

Mr. Sylvester, and I am always pleased
to see him : but I know you were not
serious, my dear papa, wlien you said he
, should not be admitted here again— that
prohibition had been so unlike yourself."
** Ah you little insinuating baggage V*
cried the fond father, as he kissed the
blooming girl, whose arms encircled his
neck. ** I have no disHke to the good
priest, no, my Ellen, God forbid I should !
Sometimes, to be sure, I do say a hasty
\rord ; but then there's a wide difference
between theory and practice, you know.
Now old Connolly is knowing enough
in that respect, for he mhids no more
what r say in a passion, than, to make
use of one of his own phrases, * a cat
does a fiddle.' No more should any
other person. But you cannot suppose,
my love, that I make any objection to
Mr. Dunlavie on account of his religion.
It is not a man's religion that will send
hirh to Heaven, or keep him out of it — It
is his deeds here that will determine his

fate

Tirs OLD IRISH BARONJrr. 23

fate hereafter ; and a good man, of what-
ever sect, is acceptable in the sight of
God, and Heaven forbid J should think
otherwise; for —

"*' Can any one of common senss.
Think a bacon slice gives God offence ?
Or that there's virtue in a herring,
' To bring a man to Hell or Heaven ?"

**Yu're a Christhan, Sir Thomas,'*
cried the old butler, wiping a tear of warm
aflfection from his eye, with the corner
of Ivis long white neckcloth, which was
given to the virtues of one of the best of
masters. *' And \^ you don*t go to Hive??,
thin the Lord have marcy upon half the
AV'orld ! But God grant you may live to
the age of owld Parr ; for I'm mortally
sartin if you died, yur Honour, poor Con-
nolly would go afofc you with a broken
hart "

'* Well, well, my honest fellow," cried
Sir Thomas, ^ith one of his benevolent
smiles, ** we'll both live as long as we

can —

24 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.,

can — or rather as long as God pleases.
Oar business is to be always prepared for
His summons. What do your eyes glisten
for, my loved Ellen t Talking of Death
won't hasten his appearance. Come, my
dear girl, let me kiss oif that tear — you
love your old father, my FJlen, and he
does you dearly, and all my wish is, that
I may live to see you happily married,
and then — But it's a dull subject for a
gay girl, so well drop it : the gout is a
kind of certificate, or, if you please, an.
insurance of life, so long as it is kept
doW7i; but if it once mounts up — -whew !
there's an end of our story. So we'll con-
trive to keep the truant in proper subjec-
tion ; and as to the twinges of it, who
would not bear pain to add a few years to
existence ? There now, go with Con-
nolly to Mr. Dunlavie's, to invite him to
dinner to-morrow ; it will shew some at-
tention for his kind enquiries after me.
But don't fall in love with the good man,
Ellen ; because you knov/ a Catholic

clergy-

- THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 55

clergyman is forbidden to marry, and it
would be bad speculation for my little
girl."

The Baronet playfully kissed her as he
concluded, and the eyes of his affection-
ate daughter resumed their wonted lustre,
as she fondly returned the parental em-
brace ; and, again tying on her strawr
bonnet, hastened after Connolly to exe-
cute her willing commission.

VOL. I.

CHAP*

26 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

CHAP. 11.

illius aram

Saepe tener nostris ab OYilibus imbuet agnus."
^ Virgil,

Sir Thomas OTallaghan, of Princely
Hall, in the county Kiidare, Ireland,
was a Baronet descended from a long
race of ancestors, who, each in turn, did
credit to their rank in life, and by their
virtues gave renov/n to the name. The
hereditary properly of the O'Callaghans
was sufticient to preserve their conse-
quence in the stile of respectability, and
to allow them to exercise that spirit of

bene-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 27'

benevolence, which descended as a family
giu from father to son, it being a net
property of six thousand a-year. But it
was only the present Sir Gliomas who had
it amply in his power to dispense bless-
ings with a liand as liberal as his heart
was expanded, bt:!ing, by the possession
of Princely Hall and its appurtenances,
master of an additional income of twenty-
five thousand pounds, clear property.
Vet, being /an emailed estate, the pos-
sessor was only tenant for life, and had
no power lo dispose of any part of it
from his successor. Sir Thomas O'Calla-
ghan was a very reuiote branch of th.e
family of his predecessors, but the next
heir in default o{' their nirvle issue, which
having failed, he became the inheritor
some time after the death of his father ;
and Lady O'Callaghan dying without
leaving any son or child except Ellen,
and Sir Thomas having no 'idea of form-
ing a second marriage, this property was
to revert to another distant relation of tlie
c 2 , late

58 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

late possessor's, who had no affinity to
the Baronet.

The name of the Hall was perfectly ap-
propriate to its establishment, for every
' thing belonging to it, both within and
without, was conducted in a stile of
princely magnificence, while, at the same
time, ostentation or imperiousness was
wholly unknown to its owner. He kept
along train of domestics, , not for parade,
nor yet entirely for use, but rather because
many of them were heir looms of the
former family, and grown grey in its
service. Ihtse he considtrcd entitled to
his protection, and they had an establish-
ment distinct from the necessary attend-
ants of the household ; nor u ere their ser-
vices required, unless as their own free
will directed them. Three separate tables
were served every day, without including
their Lord's. The first was for the under
servants, and such of the \\o»k-peopJf as
chose to partake of it ; the second for
the old retainers; and the thhd, which

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 29

was called the housekeeper's, summoned
to its ample board all the upper ranks of
the domestics. ** Peace and plenty" was
the motto of each, for no niggardly stew-
ard was permitted to limit the bountiful
overflowings of the cornucopia, nor any
riotous inmate suffered to disturb the
tranquillity of another. Drunkenness,
Sir Thomas abhorred ; but on a festival
day, every man was allowed to use his
own discretion ; and at others, each had
a stipulated portion of home-brewed ale,
which, without intoxicating, was fully
sufficient ; and all the first servants, male
and female, had, in addition, a daily al-
lowance of a pint of wine. The harvest-
home was a day of merriment and rejoic-
ing. There Sir Thomas appeared as the
happy master of a grateful people, where
he sat amongst his old tenants and quaffed
the foaming liquor from their tankard,
to the anniversary of many such joyous
meetings, where he partook of the repast
with the younger ones, and where, in
c 3 the

so THE OLD IiaSH EARONET.

tlie evening, while the merry pipes
** struck up a lilt so gaily O," aiul the
sprightly damsel, with the rustic swain,
beat to its enliveninfr notes the verdant
turf beneath tlieir feet, did he mingle
with the nimble group, when permitted
the free use of liis legs by the absence of
his chronic monitor, the gout, and alter-
nately led each fair^maiden in the dance,
till the shades of night calling the joyous
assembly to their respective homes, the
]>aronet, with a kiss, and generally a
handsome present to each of his distin-
guished partners, withdrew with his fair
Ellen, amidst shouts of gratitude from
his happy tenantry, and the no less happy
dependants of his bounty. Christmas
day, thenfestiTal of the new year, and
other holidays, received, in due proportion,
the honours of domestic hilarity, when
the respectable and elder tenants were
lionoured and ilattered by an invitation
to the festive table of their landlord ; and
even the grey- haired cottagers experien-
ced,

THE OLD^ IRISH BARONET. 31

ced, in tlie faiiiiliar salutation, or friendly
sliake of the lianc!, that sentiment that
gives *' an iiour's importance to the poor
nran's !:cart."

Evcry^ Sunday thronghont the year,
there \\'as an extra table it two o'clock,
iov such of tlie tenants* children as chose
to participate' of the welcome repast, and
where Miss O'Callnghan attended, to see
that every child was iluly taken care of
by the servants appointed for that pur-
pose, and her own fair hands presented to
eacli a glass of wine to drink the health
of their benefactor. With all this profu-
sion, it was one of Sir Thomas's strict
charges to avoid wasie ; whatever cam^
from the respective tables was, with other
provisions, decently served up to the
most indio-ent of the villaj^e^-s, for which
purpose were deputed two of the ancient
female domestics, whose sole business it
was, three days in the wee^k, to distribute
tlie brciken victuals ; nor were these good
dames kss attentive than their master to
c 4 the

32 THE OXD n?ISH BARONET.

the decency of its distribution. Every
first day of winter, on vhich it was the
Baronet's custom to envelop himself in
warmer clothing, this benevolent man wa»
equally considerate of those whose years,
infirmities, and situaiiun, stood in need of
the same indulgence. To the poorer class
of his tenants, male and female, he there-
fore gave on that day a comfortable suit
of woollen, and permission to cut their
winter firing from his bogs.

The children of these poor people met
with equal attention from Miss O'Calla-
ghan, by receiving from her presents of
useful clothing; and a school for their
instruction was maintained at her ex-
pence, which she regularly visited once
a- week, to notice their improvement. la
short, to illustrate the domestic virtues
of Sir Thomas O'Callaghan, would fill a
volume, and even then hardly could the
ininutioB of his benevolence be traced, for
he was attentive to the wants of every
creature in every form. He {ed the hun-
gry*

TffE OLD IRISH EARONBT. 53

gry, clothed the naked, relieved the in-
digent, and visited the sick, in whose
favour he allowed the village doctor an
ample salary for his attendance. The
term charity never was better exempli-
fied — it displayed all the fair phases af its
import, and included with him every vir-
tue it is expressive of. He was literally
adored in the neighbourhood ; nor could
"his magnificent fortune be envied him,
while he spent it in his own country,
amongst his own people, and for the good
ofmankind*

Sir Thomas had nevertheless his faults
— what human character is without its
shades ? He was hasty and irritable ; but
it was not the haughty^petulance of pride,
nor yet the peevishness of imbecility. It
partook more of the nature of that sen-
sation that arises in a mind almost con-
stantly preoccupied, from the repetition
of trivial interruptions. It was, in brief,
*^ Nature's high tax on luxury of soul,'*
which intellects of a certain pitch, whether
i) S inteut

34- THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

intent on objects of science, active bene-
volence, or simple contemplation, are
almost always condemned to pay. In his
communications with the ignorant and
'credulous rustics of liis house and vicini-
ty, the self-command of the Baronet (we
will not say his patience, for of that in
many things he had not much to boast)
was almost daily put to the test. Though
plain and rural in his manners, he had
both read and thought, and formed his
own opinions. His religious sentiments
were little known ; thev rested within his
own bosom, seldom strayed into the
world, and never opened the door to
those of others; hence with some he pas-
sed for a concealed papist, others did him
the honour to say he possessed no religion
at all ; all of which surmises he did not
take the trouble even of despising; but
that he belonged to no ostensible sect,
wd^ certainly the second of his great
faults.

Sir Thomas had passed • almost the

whole

THE OLD IHTSH BARONET. Sb

whole of his life amongst liis tenantry,
consequently knew little of mankind. He
owed somethinjj^ to books, but more to'
himself, and nothing to men. Still his
good understanding taught him to regret
he had not seen more of the M^prld, and,
though late in life, it was- his intention
yet, if "health perniitted him, to travel ;
and in fact,^the advice of his physicians
concurred with his own inclinations in this
respect.

Sir Thomas had represented his native
county in several succeeding parliaments.
With respect to his political conduct, it
is. enough to say it had been independjint^
aixl that he had always consulted his own
and his constituents' opinion,

lie never would accept the office of
high sheriff, nor fill that of a magistrates^
for where he could not correct by ad*
nir)nishing, he was repugnant to {juuish
by iawiul authority; yet many was th6
criminal his interference saved,; where
liumauity found ar> opening for mercy j
c 6 and

36 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

and many was the debtor liberated by
his bounty. To sum up the character
of Sir Thomas, we will add, that the re-
peated offers of a coronet he had as con-
stantly declined, alledging that he chose
rather to continue the first commoner of
his country, than become the last of its
peers.

To the household of Sir Thomas O'CaU
]aghan was lately added a gentleman,
whose right to the appellation was as con-
spicuous as his connexions were unknown
and his fortunes humble. His manners
were modest, yet elegant. His educa-
tion must have been liberal, as he was
conversant on every important subject,
and well acquainted with many foreign
languages ; was skilled in music, and had
a taste for painting. His person was
graceful, his complexion rather dark, with
somewhat a foreign cast, and, ^vithout
being critically handsome, his features
striking and expressive. His age appear-
ed to be from twenty-eight to thirty,

though

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 37

though it might not be so mucli ; but the
seriousness of his deportment took from
him the light semblance of youth, v/ith-
out leaving any rigid formahty, or un-
social reserve in his character. This
gentleman, whose name was Ferdinand
Sylvester, became a candidate for the
Baronet's protection, through the medi-
um of an old friend of Sir Thomas's, who
resided a few miles from Princely Hall,
a Mr. Millbank, whose niece was likewise
an intimate, and the only one, of Miss
O'Cahaghan, Mr. Miilbank having been
abroad for some years on the Continent,
had there met with Mr. Sylvester, and
conceived for him a very warm affection.
This young man, whose father was an
English officer, but reported to have been
killed in an engagement in Germany du-
ring the infancy of his son, found him-
self, at the age of twenty, an orphan in
very straitened circumstances, as the
trifling support of his mother, and some
little dependence she had of her family

(who

S8 THE OLD IRISH BAHONET.

(wlio lived in a distant country) died
with her, aijd his spirit not permitting"
him to be an inactive dependant, he turn-
ed his talents and ed titration to the pri-

'vate instruction of a few youths In this,
capacity Mr. Millbank had seen him,.
when, from many iater views, having, as
before said, entertained an affection for
him, h.e invited him over to Ireland, to
superintend the education of his nephew,,
who was then at a public school. His
oifers were liberal, and many other cir-
cumstances rendering the removal of Mr.
Sylvester a desirable event to himself, he
accepted the friendly invitation, and came
with the old gentleijian to the land of
Hibernia. His niece Emily, v/ho, with

• liis nephew Edward, were the orphan
children of Mr. Millbank's younger bro-
ther, he had been left guardian to, and
trustee of their very handsome foxtune,-.
which had been principally acquired by
commerce. During his five years ab'
sence abroad^ Emily had been at a board?

ing-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 39

ing-school in Diibliu; and his nephew at
a preparatory seminary. ^liss Millbank,.
at his departure, was twelve years old,
and her brother three years junior. On
his return, therefore, he found, instead of
thechikl, a line, animated, good humour-
ed, intelligent and accomplished young
woman. He took her home to preside as
mistress of his house, and kitimated to
Edward, that he was likewise to take up
his residence at ?vlillbank Place the en-
suing vacation. But his intention was
frustrated by a fatal event ; a scarlet
fever broke out in the school, to whose
malignity, amongst many others of tlic
youths, Edward fell a \ ictim. Mr. Mill-
bank adored his young relatives, and this
unhappy disaster plunged him into the
deepest grief: Emily as severely felt its
poignancy, nor could her lively disposi-
tion overcome for many months the sin-
cere sorrow she felt at the death of her
brother. Yet many a young lady had
rejoiced at an event which gave them such

art

40 TH2 OLD IRISH BARONET.

an addition of fortune; for, instead of
five thousand pounds, which were to be
her portion the day she married or came
of age, she saw herself by it the heiress of
'two thousand a-year in right of succes-
sion, and the possibility, or rather indeed
probability, of inheriting the greater part
of her uncle's property, Mr. Sylvester
sincerely deplored the melancholy cata-
strophe which had befallen his generous
friend, and sought b}^ every exertion to
soothe the sorrows it had occasioned.
When the lapse of a few months had
taken off the edge of its poignancy, the
natural independence of his mind sug-
gested to him the necessity of looking^
out for some situation to maintain him-
self, and he still persevered in desiring
to obtain a private tutorbhip. But, a
stranger, without connexions, and un-
known, he could not hope to succeed, un-
less patronized by Mr. Millbank in the
undertaking. He therefore waited til^
tmie had exerted her benign influence on
& the

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 41

the sorrows of his friend before he men-
tioned his wish to him ; this he did in
such delicate terms, that ttiongh Mr.
Millbank saw through his motives at
once, he could not condemn a spirit that
nobly felt its own independance, and de-
sired to preserve it. Mr. Millbank told
him that, having brought him into a
strange country, he considered himself
engaged to protect him in it, and, while
he himself lived, entreated Mr. Sylvester
would consider Millbank Place as his re-
sidence, and not to make or think of any
other arrangement. But however grate-
ful the young man felt for this kindness,
and grateful he did feel, he could not re-
concile himself to passing an inactive life,
supported by the bounty of a stranger.
He at length succeeded in obtaining Mr.
Millbank's concurrence, but not without
a promise, that on any emergency he
woidd still consider his house as his weU
come asvlum, and that he would not be
in any haste to quit it, till his friend had

$elec«

42 THE OLD IRISH EARDNET,

selected such a situation for him as v/ould
bid fair to prove a happy one. These
promises obtained, Mr. Millbank was
not very aqtive in the pursuit of one,

' for as he. really loved Sylvester, he was
Ti'ot eager to part with him, and nearly

. twelve months elapsed befcH'e he thought
of makinii; any enquiry. In this interval
the friendship between Sir Thomas O'Cal^
Jaghan and Mr. Milll)ank had been re-
newed. Ellen and Emily became inti-
mates^ and a perfect harmony of uncfer-
standing was preserved between the old
gentlemen and the young ladies.

Emily had certainly the advantage of
Miss O'Caliagiian in female accomj)lish-
mei.ts. She iiad received a rcc>ular edu-
cation, ami had profited by it Not hke
some boarding school misses, wlio issue
from thence tiie paragons of perfect ion ;
who flay tlie French tono^ue ahve; excel
on the piano-forte in a lesson of Kicolai,
or the Battle of Prague ; and embroider
the wonders of Shakespeare, or the talcs

THE OLD IRISH BARONF.T. 43

of Sterne, 'in a splendid confii^ion of co-
loured chenilles; or perhaps give us Bri-*,
tannia, or Hibern'a, seated on a r(H:k,
wiih Neptune's trident like a pitchfork
• in her hand, to catch, the ships by trans-
fixinu; them (a,s fishermen take eels in the
nuid) wliile they hostilely ad.vance stern
foremost, and against the wind ; some-
times tjie map of Europe, in a dazzliiig
gilt frame, to grace the breakfast-parlour,
or may be the drawing-room, or any room
uhere, with the otliers, it may be seen,
admired, or — any tiling but understood ;
for it would require tlie sagacity of a
** j^rlother Goose" to discover Britannia's
spear in a pitchfork — the gentle Miranda
bending under a head-dress new from
Ross's emporium — to divine whether it
is her dog or her goat that Maria is lead-
in a string — or to trace Karnschatka on
the parallel of the West Indies.

'* ThaTs Miss Anna Maria Juliana
Charlotta's last work at Madam La Far-
ley wou's school," exclaims the delighted

mama,

44 THE OLD llilSn BARONET.

mama, as she enters tlie drawing-room
(we'll suppcse) from the kitchen, wliere
she lias been superintending the cookery,
and wiping her face with her pocket-
' handkerchief, as s);e sees the con^pany
croMcled round the beantifal productions
of her more bee. i-ii'iil daughter's fingers,
adding a '* how' d ye do,*' or an agreeable
nod to each guest, as she makes her ob-
servations.— *' That Jhere piece is some-
thing out of Mr. Some:)ody's old play— it
is as natural as life, evtry one says. And
this here was done by her sister, Sophy
Matilda AuguGta Elizabeth, now Mrs.
Sugarcane. It's the picture of the mad
woman in Mr. What-ye-call-em's journey;
I does not remember foreign people's
names ; and my youngest girl, Jane Ca-
roline Belinda, that's do?2e that there
other picture of all the places in the
world, is to be here this evening, as I
sent to ask the governess to let her come,
because I was to have two or three friends
with me. It will do your heart good to

hear

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 45

bear her play * ^logo^y Lawder,' and
' Jack Latin,' on that grand piano, that
cost me my good seventy golden guineas
last ^^'eek at Mr. Broad wood's; and she
is so much im[)roved in her singing too!
For my own part, Td jather hear her sing
the * Top.vuils shivering in the wind/ or
* Sweet lass of Richmond Hill,' than all
the Billingtons and Biaharns in the uni-
verse. And as to that famous Mr. Incle-
don's * Sally in our alley,' O she beats him
all to nothing in it."

'' Beautiful !" cries one — ** Inimitably
done !" exclaims another — ** Perfectly
correct 1" says a third e.vquisitt judge — •
** 1 am all impatience to hear Miss Jane
Caroline Belinda's performance." ejicu-
lates some other of the party — ** And I
• — And I," is echoed round by all. Ma-
ma looks in raptures, smiles her satisfac-
tion on the company, and retires to give
the last finish to her cookery, by ht li>ing
Margaret, the maid of all work, t(^ <;ihli
the anxiously-awaited dinner, while, lii the

interim.

48 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

interim, the guests are left to digest the
enumerated perfections of the hostess's
peerless daughters.

Well then^ Miss Emily Millbank Avas
, not one of these " ne plus ultra' sJ" ' She
pla}^ed tlie harp with taste and e.%ecution
•—turned a sweet, tliough delicate, voice
v.itli judgment, and was particularly cap-
tivating in lively airs. She spoke French
and Italian correctly, but the latter less
fluently than the former ; 'and could tell a ,
noun from an adjective in both languages,
for she wrote both with precision. She
had no shewy works to produce from her
hands, but sketches of drawings, which
Mere neatly done ; yet not being a profi-
cient in the art, she did not expose any
of them to general scrutiny. Mr. Syl-
vester had indeed ^iveri her a few lessons,
but not being anxious to become an
adept in the science, she was improved
by them, without attaining any claim to '
perfection.

When the Baronet saw Miss Millbank,

he

TflE OLD IV.i^n BARONET. 47

Le becanie sensible of the disparity of
education brtueen iier and his daughter.
Klien iiiid a o()verness at the Hall during
two \ea:s, of whom she karned scarcely
any thing; for though tlie lady niiglit
ha* e heen perfectly qualined for the task
of in.tu.Gting iier j)upil in all t'iie elegant
acconi])lisiunents slie specified, yet ^'le
scented more anxious to teach the cdd
Baronet a '* second lesson of lose," th/aii
give dull lessons of study to a y(»ung girl :
and, to quality herself for the station in
embryo at which she aimed, had ah\ady
assumed no small, auchoriry in tlie house.
Mrs. Hamilton was a widow, neiiiier old
or ngly, had a dash of the line ludy about
her, and attired her pretty person with
taste. Eiit there is a tiire saying, aijd a
true one, " No catching old birds with
chaff." Sir Thomas saw through her.de-
sign, was ^toic enough to appear insensi-
ble of her good intentions towards herself,

. gave her a polite dismissal from the fjall,
with a handsome present by way of repa-
ration

4S THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

ration for her unsuccessful plan ; an'd
swore, for the Baronet we find could swear
on occasions, that no preceptor in petti-
coats should ever again become an inmate
'of it. Now, had Mrs. Hamilton preserved
a conduct suitable to her station, she had
possibly commanded in the house in every
respect, save as Lady OXallaghan, during
Ellen's minority, and assuredly she had
always found a friend in Sir Thomas;
but so abhorrent was he of every species
of art or cunning, that Mrs. Hamilton
was probably the only person against
whom he ever felt himself strongly, pre-
judiced. Ellen therefore knew very little.
She was in truth a child of nature, inno-
cent, artless, and unassuming j beautiful
without vanity, and rich without pride.
The queen of Princely Hall and its en-
virons, she was worshipped as such ; but
the playful Ellen admitted no self-con-
sequence from this homage. She would
taste their potatoes and milk with the
cottagers, when she visited their humble

dwel-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 49

dwellings, run races in the fields with the
girls, fill the socia-ble with children, and
drive for iiotirs with them round tlie do-
main, apd assist at the evening dance on
tlve turf, or perhaps collect together all
the village girls she could, and with the
females of the Hall, foot it merrily away
to the lively notes of an old blind harper,
who was one of Sir Thomas's pensioners.

Yet thou2:h the Barouet never wished
his daughter to become a pupil of tlie
** new school," he heartily desired she
should be more than an uneducated rustic.
He wanted lier to be formed a woman of
sense without pedantry — a woman of
fashion without frivolity, and a woman
of consequence without self-sufficiency.
But hov/ were these to be acquired witli-
out a proper instructor? Tl>€ organist>
ef Kildare church taaght.her -to play on
the piano-forte, and he was no contempt-
ible teacher. The diocesan school-master
instructed her in writing and English;
and she said she would learn Latin, of

VOL, I. D him,

50 THE OLD IRISH BAHONET.

lum, since he could not improve her in
Frencli, or" teach Iier Itahan. But for
the two last languages she had a master
in -Mier mind's eye, " whom she believed,
and believed right, to be fully adequate
to the undertaking — no less a personage
than Father Dunlavie; but him she had
riot yet proposed to the Baronet, nor,
from subsequent matters, iiad she ever
occasion to 4o so, for, to make use of an
Irishism, poor Dunlavie lost his place be-
fore lie had it The Baronet was aware
of there beino: still a deliciencv in Miss
O'Callaghan's pr-ecepto-rs. She was now
verging on her sixteenth year, and no-
thing better than a simple country girl,
lie hated the very name of a boarding-
school, nor could a Queen Vsquare semi-
nary be a temptation for him to send his
daughter there. Yet when he became
acquainted with Miss Millbank, he gave
every merited justice to that in which
she had been educated, and allowed it to
be one of the few where strict regard to

morality

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 51

morality was as much attended to as shin-
ing accomplishments. Yet still to send
his Ellen there was out of the question.
She had passed her days of childhood,
and it was only under his own immediate
inspection she could or should receiv^e
further instructions. What was then to
be done? He consulted Mr. Millbanlc
— that gentleman deliberated awhile —
*' Would Sir Thomas have any objection
to a tutor, a gentleman of strict pro-
bity, of highly-finished manners, of briN
liant talents, and superior accomphsh-
inents ; in short, a person in every re-
spect qualified to undertake the office,
with credit to himself and justice to his
pupil?"

*' None in the world," was Sir Tho-
mas's rej)ly. ** It was exactly the pci'-
son he wished for; and his being of the
male sex was, next to his qualifications,
the greatest recommendation."

Mr. Sylvester, who had already the

honour of being slightly known to the

p £ Baronet,

^'^^E,^..r.umniS

52 THE OLD imSH BAR0K£T*

Baronet, and a growing favourite of his,
v/as therefore proposed and accepted. A
salary of three hundred per annum, a suite
of apartments in the Hall for himself and
the different studies he engaged in with
his fair pupil, together with a pair of hoi-ses,
and a groom, were at his comman^:!. Yet
though he daily grew more in favour with
the Baronet, he arrogated no consequence
from it, save that which arose from the
friendship of so inestimable a character;
and under the tuition of Mr. Sylvester,
Miss O'Callag'han, whose natural genius
and lively imagination facilitated her in-
structions, bade fair to "become' every-
thing die heart of her fond father so ar-
dently desired.

CHAP.

THE OLD IRISH BABONSr, 53

CHAP. m.

♦• If e'er I've moura'd my humble lowly staiej
If e'er I've bow'd my knee at Fortune's shrine.
If e'er a wish escap'd me to be great.
The fervent pray'r, Humanity, was thine."

Bowles*.

If the poison of an intolerant theology,
instilled early into the mind, could have
corrupted a generous heart, it would have
spoiled that of Father Dunlavie — if the
sentiment of personal oppression, and the
world's neglect, could have made a mis-
anthropist, he had become one. But he
was destined to play a better part. The
habitua} mediocrity of his situation only
rendered him more sensible to the wants
D 3 " of

64 THE Jlf),Li> imSft BAl^ONET.

of Others; but the worst revenge lie
wreaked on tlie foes at anee of his faith
and himself was^ to pray for their con-
' version. He had been sent inta the Con-
tinent in early life, where he had received
a classical education, and was of course a
tolerable scholar. His manners were
those of a gentleman ; but born an Irish-
man, brought up at St. Omers, and living
for thirty years among the superstitious
rustics of a country village, his character
offered a most original compound of be-
Bevolence and bigotry, credulity and
science — but the first was predomi-
Bant. Though he had a tear for the un>
fortunate, and Heaven knows he could
afford them little else, he was joyous and
convivial to a proverb, that is, when he
had the opportunity, and he was gay at
all times. He had learned to be a o'ood
dancer in France, and he liad not forgot
it in Ireland, when at a christening or a
wedding of his parishioners, he has not
unfrequeutly made one in the rustic dance,

rather

THE OLD IRISH EARONET. 55-

rather than see a lively girl sit still for
want of a partner. Next to tiie obliga-
tions of implicit faith in all that the
church bids us believe, he held it the first
of Christian duties never to cry wherv
you can laugh, or throw away God's bles-
sings because they are not greater. Willi
such principles, and such accomplish-
ments, it is needless to say that Father
Dunlavie was a welcome guest in every
cabin where the plan was to make merry,
and that he took his jovial glass without
flinching, as far as sobriety went, and
sometimes a little au de la.

Such was the good priest. Though
'* still to his duty prompt at every call/*
he was always at hand when the bed of
sickness or death demanded him ; yet,
alike unacquainted M'ith scepticism or de-
pravity, his labours there were confined
to the administration of those technical
comforts his faith prescribed, and he be-
lieved alone indispensable. It was in his
hours of social intercourse^ and in the
D 4 con*-

56 TrfE OLD IKISH BARONET.

co7ifessmialf that the man of sense and
goodness shone forth conspicuous; and
the orderly conduct, and peaceable ele-
meanour of the villagers of his parish,
\vill long bear testimony of his virtues.
To the stray sheep his actions at least be-
spoke the same charity as to those of the
flock; nor did he make any practical dis-
tinction between such as were or v/ere
not of his benitoire. And if by chance
an honest soul slipped away through the
wrong trap, his faith reconciled itself as
well as it could to his feelings, by hoping
with a sigh, that a conversion * * in articuio''
had made amends.

One trait threw a strong shade of ridi-
cule oil his character, his excessive cre-
dulity in popular superstitions. He not
only gave credit to all his villagers be-
lieved, but he maintained it even at the
table of the Baronet, and in other places,
with the sturdy energy of a polemist.
This obstinate perseverance, in the face
of raillery and sense, had drawn on him

the

THE OLU IRISH EARONET. 57"

the disapprobation of Sir Thomas; anel
his List argument in favour of the old
chapel's rumours, had banished, or rather
rusticated him for' some time- from the
hospitable board at Princely Hall.-

The humble dwelling of Father Dun-
lavie stood nearly a mile and a half from
the superb mansion of Sir Thomas O'Cal-
laghan* It M^as a small cottage, embosom*-
ed in a little .v/ood, and only distinguish- -
ed from the other cabins of the hamlet by
the air of neatness and order that sur-
rounded it. The good priest, with an old >
woman, who did the domestic offices of
his httle household, were its only inhabi-
tants, unless we except the live-stock of
pigs, poultry, one- milk cow, and a horse,
that, like the Bozinante of Don Quixote,
was '* high in bone," and ** low in flesh.''
These in truth might be termed part of
the inhabitants, as they usually occupied
at night a shed, or rather an interioc
apartment of tlie dwelling. Yet hiimble
Xig were-his means, no person ever visited
J) 5 hiiiii

^8 THE OLlt IKL^H BAKONET,

him but IMolly was ordered to draw a
mug of ale, and bring out the bread and
cheese, or perhaps twist the neck off a
fowl, and put it dov\^n in tlie pot with a
'piece of bacon and some sprouts, and a
dish of potatoes ; but it was always ob-
servable; that the best fare he could give
was generally set before those who had it
least in their power to afford such for
themselves. To be sure, the good priest's
visitors were not often of the higher class
of his parishioners, therefore ceremony
was banished for hospitality ; for however
his heart might wish to shew it to all
ranks, he knew that when he was honour-
ed by a visit from any grand folks, he
liad nothing to offer them but his blessing,
and a silent wish that his means were as
ample as his will was good. Yet he was far
from being dissatisfied with those means,
though he had barely sufficient to live
■^vith comfort; and of that little he 'spared
Licj poorer neighbours : but being much
3 esteemed

THE OLD miSH BARONET. 59

esteemed by all, he received many trifling
presents for his table. Connolly was one
of his staunch friends, and at times sent
him a bottle or two of choice wine, or an
uncut pie, and now and then a bit of
venison, or a young lamb, when he could
coax tiie shepherd out of one for the good
priest; for where there was plenty to
give, and a bountiful giver, the old but-
ler did not see why Father Dunlavie
should not come in. for his share of the
good things^ . notwithstanding Sir Tho-
naas had never particularly mentioned the
parish priest to receive them ; but it was
the Baronet's delicacy tkit prevented him
including the worthy man,, for he cer-
tainly made no distinction in his favours
of person or sect ; all were, welcome to
partake of them,, and those who shunned
his benevolent gifts had only themselves
to blam.e.

Ellen bounded lightly after Connolly,

who had already reached a stile leading

from the avenue across the fields towards

V G the

60 THE OLD IRISH EARONET.

tlie wood, where lie sat waiting her com- ,
ing up to him.

** Come, Connolly, take my arm ta
help you along," she cried, at the same
'£ime tajdng his hand and placing it ac-
cording to her expression, and which he ^
seemed rather averse to doing. *' Have
Bot you often carried me when I could
not walk," added she, *' and shall I not
assist you, now that I am grown up and
strong, and you old and infirm ? Besides,
it is a long m ay for you to go, and 1 am
impatient to get to the journey's end.'*

^' Ah, bless you, IMiss Ellen !" exclaim*-
ed the honest don^.estic, ** yu're a chip of
the o',vld block, as a body may say, for I
iiivir know'd one of yur family, that was
not riddy to give a hilpin hand to the
distriss'd. You are yung, to be sure,
IVJiss, and strong and hearty.; God keep
you so all yur life: iviry one has their
&^,^\ and 1 had mine, but. for sartain I
seed the bist of it width his Honour your
dcaryifiMcr; and if I had it to s])ind

over

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. Ci

over agin, it shu'd be in the sarvice of SIf
Thomas, for he is tile bist of maisters and
of mill."

** My good Connolly," cried the de-
lighted daughter, pressing her soft white
hand on his aged one, " every one loves
my dear papa, and it makes me so happy.
But you iee he won't believe any of the
old stories you tell us, and I do so like to
hear them, only papa gets angry, and we
must not vex him, you know, Connolly."
''Why now, Miss Ellen," asked the
butler, with a very grave countenance,
"don't you believe iviry word concarn-
inq; of thim ?''

** I don't know that I do, Connolly,"
she replied ; ^' because I think papa has
so much stronger understanding than
what I have, th.at I should adopt his opi^
nion on tlie sul»ject, in preference to my
owHi And besides, there is Mr. Sylvester
too, whcm papa says is one of the: niost
sensible men he ever met with, and he
thinlcis so contemptibly of these talesj

that

G2 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

that he often will wot oive himself the
trouble of controvtrting tliem, except by
a smile or a shrug of his shovilders, which
plainly tell he is not one of their believers.
'But I should like to hear about that
prince you just mentioned this morn-
\ng — <io teir me of him, Connolly."

** To be sure and that I will, Miss
Ellen, in no time at all, till you all con-
carning of him," answered he, quite
pleased at being indulged in his fas^ourite
topic. ** You must know that this
pxince — the murrain take his name, I
ain't think of.it for the sowl of me —
Prince O — something 1 knows it was; .he.
ownVJ all the lands about the Curragh,
they say ; and he dun sumthing to offind >
the good p topic —-l suppose may be like his ^
Honour Sir Thomas, he wudn't believe
nothing at all about 'em ; but howsum-
dever, be it what it might, they takes
him off one day clever and clane, as he
was out a-hunting on his beautiful white
-horse width silver shoes. So down he

falls

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 6S

falls as did as a stone, a'ud whin his peo-
ple cums up to him, what did they find
but a log of wood, just for all the woild
so natral, that they thought it was his
own silf lying there on the ground, and
they brought him home and birid him in
great state. Well, Miss, his castle was
desarted, for no one at all cud live in it
after, bekays of the strange noises was
hard thorough it, and it wint to raek and
ruin* But the truth cum'd out at last,
and it was^ known that the prince was
width the good people, and M^as shut up
in the desarted apartmints of his ow^ii
great castle;, and at this time, IMiss
Ellen, there was only one side of it stand-
ing, but there was an intrince to thati
they sid, and a flight of stone stairs that
lid 10 the shout of rooms where he was,
aye and where he is to this day, though
nobody knows nothing at all about him,
only iviry sivin years, whin he is seen
riding round the Curragh on his beauti-
ful white horse."

^i THE OLD IRISH BARONET;

** Why then tkey took his horse like*
^vise ?" hastily exclaimed Ellen.

** Upon my word tu you, Miss Ellen/
I can't till that,'* replied Connolly, ** be-^
kays 1 nivir hard nothing of it mysilf,
but only that he gallops, or as they say,
almost flies round on this white horse,
and that the inchantmint is to be broke
whin the silver shoes is wore out. Sure
does not all the people about the place
watch the time he is ixpicted, for they
know the viry thrid of his horse's feet,
and run and shut thimsilves up in their
liousesforyr^iflf of seeing of him, although
it's will known that if iny^ body had cou-
rage to throw a firebrand at him while
he is a-rlding, thath&wudxum tolumsilf
agin.*'

* < What ! af t e r- be 1 n g • d ead • mo re tli a n
an hundred years!-' cried the fair auditor -
with a look of surprise. ** Why, Con-
nolly, this is the story of the sleeping
beauty. But if no person lias-ever ven- /^
tured to, take a peep at this flying prince,

either i-

THE OLD IKISH BARONET. 65

either on his white horse or in the old
castle, how can tlu&e reports meet con-
firmation ? How has his enchantment
been ascertained ?*'

** Why tliere it is, Miss Ellen,'* resumed
the garrulous narrator ; '^ bey n't I be
just a-going to till you all abrait that part
of the story? You must know there was
a yung girl of the village that was fool-
ish inough not to believe a word of it,
unless she cud see him hirsilf, so one
evening what does she do but — O but
just look afore you, Miss Ellen, betwixt
thim two big threes a one side beyant
there; that nate lucking bit of a house,
that's Father Dunlavie's ; and see the
smoke a curlino; out of the roof of the
chimbly. He's going to dinner; we're
just in pudding-time, and you can git
something to ate, and I warrant it a ' kate
mi la fakha' into the bargin. May be
you dont understand what that is. Miss
— it's Latin, bog Latin, and manes a
hearty wilcum ; and to be sure it is not

mysilf

G6 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

mysilf is glad to rist my owld bones. O
thin here cums liis rivirince bimisilf, smil-
ing like the flowers in May.- How he'll
stare whin he sees the vung^ ladv of
Princely Hall earning her own si If to ax.
him to dinner \"

Father Dunlavie approached with a>
respectful bow, and a polite— ** How do
y*do, Miss O'Callaghan ?'' but never
yet having had the honour of her Jcom-
pany beneath his roof,, he felt rather
diffident to ask her into his humble
dwelling. He, however, had not long
to deliberate on the point, for with ai
smile returning his salutation, she added-
— *' I am come by my papa's desire, and.
my own wish, to pay you a visit, IMr.
Dunlavie."

The good priest had no longer any
s-cruples to soliciting her entrance ; he
took her hand, and led her into a small
neat parlour, where a table was laid j^ie-
paratory to dinner, and apparently for
two persons.

^'What

THE OLD IR^SH BARONET. 6T

: ■** What a sweet little cottage!" she
exclaimed, as she seated herself near an
open \vindo\v, that looked into a small
garden, and through which pushed a
sweet-briar in blossom, that gave fra-
grance- to the room. *' And how nicely
arranged ! I think, Sir, I sliall become a
jtroublcsome visitor to you.**

*' Whenever Miss O'Callaghan ho-
nours me with her company," replied the
good priest, with a modest bow, '' I
shall be too vain of it to term it trouble-
some.'*,

'* I will not have any ceremonious
compliments, ]\Ir. Dunlavie," she laugh-
ingly answered. *^ I come here as plain
Ellen O'Callaghan, not as the Lady of
Princely liall, but as a htrle, friend of
yours, who w ill be most happy to culti-
vate your esteem."

** You have it already, young Lady,**
said he with a look thdc bespoke his s.in-
-cerity. ** Miss O'Callaghan s virtues are
as weU known as her father's, and bad

uiust

68 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

must that heart be indeed which cannot
justly appreciate them."

Just as Elien had delivered her father's
finvitatloiv for the following day, and had
obtained the good priest's promise of
complying with it, Molly, who was not
aware of her master's guests, entered
from the kitchen with a smoaking hot
dish of fried bacon and eggs, and another
of— need we say potatoes ? for who ever
saw or heard of an Irish dinner, gentle
or simple, from the cabin to the greai
house^ where there was an omission of the
country's bread fruit?

The master looked rather disconcerted,
and nodded to her to retire, which MoHy,
with an exclamation of surprise on see-
ing Miss ,0"Callaghan, was about to do
much quicker than she had entered, but
Ellen ran and brought her back.

*' Set down the dinner, my good dame," "^t
cried she. ** Til not com.e here again ^
if I'm to be a scare-crow. Bacon and.
eggs — ^delicious i — I'll, have some too. ^

Won't

Tttfi OLD IRTSH SARONEt. (j^

Won't you permit me to partake of them,
Mr. Dunlavie ? I am so liungry, and so
is Connolly — why, we shall eat up all
your dinner."

'* Arrah agrali, but it's yursilf's the
jewil of yung- lady," cried I\Iolly, obey-
ing Miss O'Callaghan's orders, and plac-
ing a couple of chairs near tlie table*
'' Iviry body says yu've no more pride
in you nor the poorest crater that walks.
Och thin I wisht my maister had just lit
nie dun as I wantid to-day, and bile the
yung pulit that I kilt last nite. 1 knowd
will enuif there wud be a stranger here
to-day, and so I towld him, for I seed it
on the bars of the gratn, and you cud
have such a nice taist of the brist of it.
But I'll roast you a new-laid igg in the
turf ashes, my jewil, afore you know-
where you be. Or there's a nate' taist
of mutton since yistirdaj'-, and I'll brilc
it as brown as a pancake for you, my
^arlint."

Ellen tlianked the hospitable house-
keeper,

70' THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

keeper, but declined every thing ex^cepf
M'hat was at present on the table. Con-
nolly by instinct was taking his stand
behind her chair — she turned round to
him with a smile — *' You are a guest here
as well as me, Connolly," said she.
*' Have I not said I am not to be con-
sidered the fine lady now? and if our
good host has no objection to your tast-
inghis fare, then sit down and be at your
ease, and you certainly have the ad van*
tage over me in being his older friend.
Your good housekeeper too, Mr. Dun-
lavie, does not she always make one at
your table?' He smiled an affirmative—
** Nay then take your place, Molly —
Mrs. Mary I'll call you in future, and we
shall make a sociable, and, answering for
one of us as I wish to all, a happy party
to attack your nice cookery."

** The Lord be gud to my fadther's
«owl !'' exclaimed Molly, devoutly cros-
sing lierself, anti sitting down as she was
ordered; ** sure he iiivir drimt that his

dater

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 71

'<later Molly wiul ivir be at one table
V'idth the yung lady of Princely Hall.
But I sid I'd have sum gud kick to-day,
for my right eye was so itchy. Will, I'm
sure if I was to die tomorrow, I wadii't
forgit it this thousand 3'^ares, sittin down
to dinner width Miss O'CaUagan r

While Ellen lunched, or rather ate
•substantially of the bacon and eggs, she
said to Father Dunlavie — ** I wish, my
good Sir, you wauld be kind enough to
tell me something of this report respect-
ing the old chapel, and the miraculous
bones. I was to visit them this morning;
and Connolly tells me that you have ex-
orcised them without effect."

*' Christ save us 1" exclaimed Molly,
looking aghast, and dropping her knife
and fork to cross herself once more.
^* Yoii wint to the owld cbapil, Miss
O^Callagan ! and alone by yoursilf, width
00 body at all along width ycKi 1 The
Lord have marcy upon us and save us,
amin ! Cross of Christ about us 1 To

the

79 THE OLD IRISH EARONEr.

the owld chapil ! Why Jiis rivlrlnce him*'
silf, God be hetwiLvt him and all harim !
cudn't vinture to do no more nor that
He made the hair o'my hid stand an ind
' the tother mornin, whin he cumd home
and towld me. * Molly/ says he to me,
* I have bin to biry thim bones over there
bezant in tlie owld chapil, and God rist
their sowls/sayshe — ' amin,' says I; and
width that, Miss, 1 falls into such a trim-
blification, that I thought the viry Ufe
\vas goin out of ray body ; and ivir since
that I dreams iviry nite of the great Lord
and the Spanish Lady, tho' I sprinkles my
room always with holy water, and says
nine pater nosters and avi maris whin I
goes to bid."

Ellen could not suppress a smile, under
which she with difficulty restrained a
stronger propensity to laugh aloud. Con-
nolly secretly blessed himself (nor are we
clear that the good priest did not do the
same), and silently ejaculated a prayer
cf preservation from all the hobgoblins

" in

TlfE OLD IRISH BARONET. 73

I in the vic^inity of their terrific abodes,
uhile Father Dunlavie rephed to Miss

rep
O'Calfaghan's clemaiKl. ^

" Tlie iuformat-ion I have respecting
these bones owes its origin to the preva-
lent reports in circulation ; hut that there
is something wonderfully connected with
them, I neither can or do doubt. Tlie
heir of those persons was assuredly car-
ried away in a most miraculous manner
when an infimt. The story says he was
taken from his cradle Init a few minutes
before his nurse nnssed him, yet all en-
deavours to discover him were vaiii,
tliough the whole neighbourhood was
alarmed J and in seareh of him in as short
a time. U'e must therefore conclude it
could be by no natural means, he was
conveyed away, else had it been impos-
sible for live thief to have escaped with
bis precious burthen. Every house and
cabin about the place was closely inspec-
ted by virtue of a search warrant, lest

VOL. I. , E any

74 THE OLD IRISH BABONET.

-any person should have connived at the
base transaction, and concealed the child ^
every spot round the vicinity examined
into — but no traces of him could be dis-
covcFed, nor did any thing respecting
him ever transpire. The supposition,
therefore, then was, and still is, that
Mdvich you have heard my friend Con-
nolly here repeat. On the truth of that
report, however, I am not able to decide,
but I sincerely believe, tliat in the mys-
tery of the infant's disappearance, there
was something more than human means
employed. That the spirits of the pa-
rents should still wander restless on €arth,
is a very natural conjecture, and of which
ive have the proof in their poor unquiet
bones, that I myself have three different
times solemnly returned to the grave,
yet one are at this moment to be seen
above ground.- , We know that no mortal
means IS used to disturb them; for though
we should even imagine it to be the secret

doings

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. ?5

Joings of some facetious person to laugh
at the villagers credulity, yet who is
hardy enough to approach tlie place at
an hour most likely to be unobserved?
Hardly is there any one will go near it
in tiie open day, much less the dead time
of night; therefore whatever argument
may be advance^! against these reports,
there can be no other opinion formed with
certainty/'

Connolly gave a sigh, and a shake of his
head in concurrence. Ellen's mind wa-
vered between probability and possibility
• — the arguments of her father and Mr.
Sylvester— the opinions of the good priest
and the old butler; yet she seemed rather
inclined to agree with the two former,
notwithstanding her propensity to hear
Connolly's pretty fairy tales; and for the
sequel of that one be had been repeating
as they came along, her curiosity was
strongly excited, which she expected to
have gratified as they returned home.
E 2 Eut

76 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

But in this she was disappointed, by th^ir
pieeting Mr. Sylvester just as they set
out, and he givinghisarm to Miss O'Cal-
laghan, her anxiety for the enchanted
'prince was forgotten, in the more agree-
able conversation of her instructive cont-
pan ion.

CHAP,

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 77

CHAP. IV.

«< You who in different sects were shamm'i;.
And come to see each other darmidy
The world's mad business now is o'er.
And I resent these pranks no more."

The Baronet received Father Dunlavie^
with a shake of the hand that bespoke
die sincerest cordiality, and hearty wel-
come once more to the Hall. He pre-
&ented Ivim m ith respect to the rest of his
guests, to whom the good priest was un-
known, or known but slightly; and short-
ly after the company sat down to table.
It consisted of Sir Thomas and his lovely
daug^iter; Father Dimlavie; Mr. Sylves-
E 3 ttr",;

?S THE ©LI> IRISH BABONET,

ter ; the Reverend Doctor Clayfiekl, the
protestant rector of the parish; and of
Mr. Millbank and his niece, who, to the
great surprise and pleasure of the Baro-
tnet and Miss O'Callaghan, arrived that
forenoon, with the intent to pass a few
days V\'it}i theni» .

The chit-chat of the dinner- tabic was
attended v.ith its accnftonied hilarity.
The respected host was cheerfu! and con-
vivial, for he was free of pain, and for .
the first time during the last few months,
was seated at the head of his own board,
and ill tlie company of his most esteem-
ed friends. These friends were not less
pleased to see the worthy Baronet once
rnore engaged in doing the honours of his
festive table. Ellen was all animation ;
'and even the attendants expressed on
their countenances the joy they felt at
their good master's recovery. Old Con-
nolly appeared particularly attentive to
the motions of Father Dunlavie, which
he closely watched from his station at the
sideboard, and was careful that the.

priest -

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 79f

priest should not have to call a second
time on the servant behind his chair' for
the same thing. Indeed, tlic old butler
seemed to think, and without a donbt did
think, that after Sir Thomas and iMiss
O'Callaghan, Father Dunlavie v/as, al-
though the poorest, the greatest person of
the company.

The ladies did n6t remain long in tiie
dining parlour ; the evening was fine,
and both Ellen and Emily wished to en-
joy it in the grounds. After they had
retired, the Rector, who appeared, from
the suddenness of his question, to have
wished for the moment of attack, turned
to tl ' priest, and without any preface,
asked him, in a tone which might have
passed for a respectful sneer — *^ whether
he had buried old Juddy O'Shaughnessy
yet?"

The good man, wlio did not much
approve of the demand on such an occa-
sion, answered firmly — ** She died in the
fold, and had received the last ofHces of
tlic [)astoT/*

JE 4. *^ And

80 THE OLD IKISH BARONET,

** And' yet," resumed the divine, in the
same sarcastic strain, *' the misguided
old Vt'retch, only three days before she
died, expressed to me her conviction of
fthe eii'icacy of the call she received more
than twenty years ago, and her assurance
ei' being * a brand snatched from the
burning."

'* No doubt she was so," said the Fa-
ther, crossing himself under his napkin,,
^vhich he had forgot to send away with
the v/ater-glass.

'* Something," continued the Rector
peevishly, '' mysterious — something dark
in these death-bed conversions of your's.'*

*' Not more so than in your elections,"
replied the nettled Dunlavie.

** And yet," said Mr. Sylvester, taking
up the discourse, '* I thought that an
efficient call bore along with it the seal
of its own indelibility. Better not be cal-
led at all," added he maliciously, '* than
be subject to find, on your death-bed,
that vou had been Ustenino' to a wron^^
'^ voice

TriE OLD IRISH BAP.ONET. 81.

voice all the while. I understood, Doctor,
that the elect always knew themselves and.
each other."

" If, young man," replied the Doctor,
vcith a look of tiiue theologal acrimony,
*\vou understand no more of election
than books seem to have taught you, you
had better turn yourself over at once to-
the Father and his conversions; it will;
be the shortest way, if not the safest."

Sylvester felt a benevolent conipla«
cency, at having turned aside the darts
of polemic fury from the unfortunate
priest. He was himself not afraid of them ; :
but the DoGtor, an opuvent pluralist, as-
vAuch elated by fortune as by religious"
pride, might, he apprehended, easily
overbear the humble cottage minister,
who, moreover, obviously laboured under
the dread lest any indiscreet warmth of
expression should escape, to prejudice him
in the newly-recovered graces of the Ba-
ronet, But the Rector would not ex^
z 5 ^ change.

85 THE OLD IKISH BARONET.

change opponents ; be dealt his blows on
all sides.

*^ It is not easy to say," proceedeil he,
*' whether the blindness of superstition,
or the levity of sceptieism, do most harm
to the cause of * evangelical religion/
But,'* he added, with a smile of haly ex-
ultation, *^ though they torment the
saints, they can neither add to, nor di-
minish their number. The flock is coun-
ted from the beginning."

*' Your confession is more reasonable,
Father," says Sylvester, addressing him-
self to Dunlavie. *' If it be rigid in the
means it offers, it tenders them freely to
all."

*' I do not know how that may be,"
cries Mr. Miilbank; '* but one thing
they agree perfectly well in, and that is,
to unpeople Heaven between them as
much as they can.. One would be led to
imagine they considered Paradise, like no-
bility, to become less valuable in propor-
3 tion

THE OLD IRISH BARONET, 85'

tion to the greater number of its partici-
pants. What," continued he, ** are we
to suppose composes tlie chief felicity of
such exclusive beatitude ?'*

^' Tiie contemplation of the contrast
between their happiness, and the dread
lot of those awful monuments of God's
wrath, will doubtless form a part of it,'*
replied the Doctor.

** That is, in honest English,'* inter-
rupted the indignant Millbank, '* that
the chief gratification of the saints will
be in witnessing the miseries of the dam-
ned ! Can human reason pervert itself
so far as to believe, or human misanthropy
to hopC; that such should be the truth?
For I. fear, that in most popular instances-
it may be said, ^Thy wish was father,
Harry, to that thought."

Mr. Sylvester, without apparently no-
ticing the presence of Doctor Cla} field,
replied — ** The attachment of the Cal-
vinist to his favourite doctrine of pre-
destination, by which a vast majority of
E 6 the

S4: THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

the human race is precondcmned to*
eternal misery, arises froni the conviction
or state of mystic certitude in which he
is, that himself is of the number of the-
'elect. Take from him the persuasion of
hrs own individual justification, and he
would reject the rest of the doctrine with-
scorn and horror. But as, according to
this belief, all that are efficiently called^
are chosen, it so happens that the cer-
tainty of his own election is the first fruit
of his faith. Such is the selfish tendency
of human affections, that, like wealth,
honours, or fame, Heaven itself would'
lose its estimation by becomings too com--
mon. And hence pride, spleen, envy,
"^.vorldly disappointment, • and every -jea-
lous grovelling passion that can agitate the
human bosom, concur to make him a
willing believer in a doctrine so conve-
nient to himself. It i^ thus that ' Plea-
ven is built on spite, and>JIeil on pride.'*
*^ I am rather surprised," interrupted
the modest Dunlavie, *' that of all the

objec-

THE OLD IRISFI BAKONET. S5

objections wbicli human reason, in its
speculative licentiousness, does or might
oppose to our faith, that of intolerance
should always be thrown in the front. In
the Liturgy of the Church of England,
implicit assent to the most incompre-
hensible of the mysteries we likewise be-
lieve, is enjoined under denunciation of
*che same ])enalty.''

^' True," replies Mr. Sylvester, '' Atlm-
nasius, Calvin, and Rome, are concentrio
fneteors. Theh radii are longer or shor-
t-er, and the r^;T^^ they include are greater
or less, but they revolve round the com-
mon center of intolerance. That the
Catholic, I mean not the priest, but the
honest well-meaning laic, should disprr^y
an equal inveteracy against the mild be-
ii-evolent Luther and his precepts, as
against the hideous murckraus Calvin,
and his yet more hideous dogmas, seems
to us a wonder. Yet how much greater
wonder does nqt the intolerancy of sect-a-
rism in the presejit day display ! Even

in

SG THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

in this blesf land, which, as you say at
Douay, ' has but one sauce, but a thou^
sand religions,' most of those religions ex-
hibit towards each other exactly the same
spirit. The genius of the age in this re-
spect does not wear its own character..
Yet a few centuries, and the wonder of
nations will be great, that atheists should
have existed in 1800, but far greater still
that there should then have existed theo-
logians."

The Doctor did not appear to take his
wine with his accustomed relish, but
seemed to sit uneasy on his chair, as if
wishing, what we must acknowledge was
"tiot his usual custom, for an opportunity,
of breaking up from table. This opportu-
nity was offered by Miss O'Callaghan^
and her fair friend passing the window
as they returned from their walk, on
which he started up to join them in the
drawing-room, and in this movement h€j
was followed by the rest of the guests.

CHAP,

THE OLD IRISH BAKONET. ST"

CHAP. V.

*' Not her own guardian angel eyes
Willi chaster tenderness his care.
Not purer her own wishes rise,
Not holier her own sighs in prayer."

ThOMSO!'T,

The successor to the estate of Princely
Hall, if Sir Thomas O'Callaglian bad na
son, was a gentleman, whom we before
observed had no rclatrpnsbip to tlie Ba-
ronet, or if any, it was so distant as hard-
ly to be traced ;. and however Sir Thomas
might regret his ovv^n want of a male issue,
he certainly did not love his Ellen the
less for having popped into the world of
the wrong sex. Lady O'Gallaghan, ^as

eminent

8& THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

eminent for her virtues as her husband,
died in h.er daughter's infancy of a vio-
lent epidemic, fever ^vhich /?e. had caught
in visiting a man confined in jail on a
charge of felony, a^ti she having received
the contagion, fell a victim to it. Sir
Thomas, by the exertions of his indefati-
gable philanthropy, proved this, man to
be innocent ; nor did he relax in them till
he had him liberated and restored to his
family. The poor man, labouring under
anxiety of mind for his own fale, and
tliat of his wife with six helpless child'
ren, and deprived, by confinement in a.
dark and loathsome jail; of air and ex-*
eicise (for the age of the illustrious How-
ard had not yet darted like a beam from
on high into the drear recesses of Irish:
prisons), was attacked by a dangerous -
indisposition, that communicated itself to •
his benevolent visitor. Its fatality did
not- attend either of- them, but spread'
almost universally through the Baronet's
Household^ two or tlK-ee of whom fell its

victims, ^

THE OLD IRISU BAKONET. 8{>

victimS; and with these the amiable part*
ner of their Lord. Being of a delicate
constitution, the fever was to her rapid
in its progress and fatal in its termination^
Never was a- wife more beloved while
living, or more lamented after death. Sir
Thomas, though in all things meekly re-
signed to the will of God, could not for-
bear accusing himself as the author of
this heavy misfortune, and this impres-
sion, together with his reverence for her
memory, prevented him from ever form-
ing a second alliance ; notwithstanding
he could ^ have wished for an heir, and,
independently of his immense fortune, he
was neither too old or too ugly to despair
meeting the approbation of any disen-
gaged young woman whom he might se-
lect. For his daughter, he was satis-
fied that, though she was not the heiress
of Princely Hall, she would succeed to a
large family property ; and six thousancl
a-year, he thought, was no contemptible
fortune for a female. Some ideas on the

subject

90 * THE OLD lilisn BABOKET,

subject had however engrassed^ at ime'S
his private, attemion, and more particu-
larly of late, in conseqAience of some silent
observations he made. His successor was
a Mr. Newburgh, a young gentleman
whom the Barouet recollected to have
seen once when a boy, but never since.
He .was an Irishman, but did not reside
in his native country, and very s eld am
visited it. Sir Thomas was aware that he
^vas a gentleman of m.ost respectable family
connexions, already in possession of a
good income — that he had been bred at
Eton, and was well known in the fashion-
able world. The Baronet had long a
wish to see and be acquainted with the
future owner of Princely Hall, and as,
when once determined on any point, he
always persevered in it, he wrote to Mr.
Newburgh, by a direction he obtained to
a coffee-house in St. James's-street, Lon-
don, with a warm invitation to visit the
Hall when he came to Ireland. This let-
ter remained unanswered, though many

months

inE OLD IRISH BARONET. 91

iionths Ikui elapsed since its date; Sir
Tiiomas therefore concluded it bad mis-
carried tlirougli a viong' address, and not
having any other, he did not liazard a
second, lest it shoukl meet the same fate.
Still, h.owever, he vras anxious for Mr.
Newburgh's coming, and frequent!}' cn^
deavoured to make successful enquiries
M'-here'to find him ; but no person could
give him positive information, and lie
did not conceal his regret at the dis-
appointment. The Baronet had also for
some time talked of his intended visit to
the Continent, and it was hnagined that
his impatience to see Mr. New burgh arose
from that circumstance, as he probably
wished to confer in person with him on some
particular subjects before he undertook so
long a journey. In this conjecture there
was some truth, but the extent of it was
known only to Sir Thomas himself

Ellen had been nearly two years the
pupil of ^Ir. Sylvester. The improve-
ments of lier mind were rapid and great.

Con-

f^% THE OLD IRISH BABONET.

Connolly's* fairy tales were only listened'
to now out of respect for the garrulous old
servant; her matwrer judgment evinced
a solid understanding, and her superior
talents were displayed hi the almost spon-
taneous acquirements of each feminine
accomplishment. The improvement of
her lovely features kept pace with that
of her mind. Though well and deeply
informed, she was doubly interesting
through that naivetS of character which
accompanied her every look and action,
that modesty of demeanour which arro-
gated no absurd consequential pride, that
playful vivacity of disposition, which gave
elasticity to her deportment, and that
.sweetness of temper that was at once the
happiness of herself and all around her.

This tiaketCy which formed the princi-
pal trait in the moral portrait of Ellen's
earliest years, differs at least as much from
unmeaning simplicity, as from the studied
affectation of science — it is artless, but
not igiiojant. We may sometimes- smile

• at

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. t)3

at the accidental qua^ntness of a reply
from the mouth of vague unconscious
•stupidity, but it is unpretending intellect
that alone can diarm.

Contrary to what is usual, the simpli-
city of conception and character grew
with her growth, and went hand in hand
with her improvement. Tiiere is a cer-
tain something, that accompanies th'e
naive expression of the sentiments and
conceptions of a female intellect, which,
though sound and just, is simple and un-
cultivated — which pronounces its opi-
nion on things according to the data it
possesses, that is irresistible. The interest
•we take in an instructed, enlightened,
methodical understanding, versed in the
sciences, and in the usages of the world,
is of a different nature ; a mind like this
is calculated to please for a long time ;
but in cultivating itself it has most com-
monly made an exchange, and in respect
to the first impression of lively heart-felt
interest, it may fairly be doubted whether

what

94 THE OLD IRISH baronut.

what it has lost is not well wortli all that
it has acquired.

Tiie Baronet loved liis daiigliter whh
enthusiasm ; he beheld iu her the adored
mistress of every dependant within and
without the Hall, and saw ho\v^ ardent
was her attachment to this place of her
birth. He judged how strongly inter-
woven v/ith her happiness must be those
objects, and how uncertain each succeed-
ing day rendered to her a continuance
of their enjoyments. His heart sunk de-
jectedly in reflecting that his death would
banish his beloved Ellen from those scenes
of her infantine, which were also lier
maturer joys- — from a place where she
reigned as the sovereign queen of a grate-
ful and happy people. She might shortly
be compelled to seek new connexions,
new friends, and to assimilate herself to
them by the adoption of new ideas, sen-
timents, and manners. Ellen was avv'are,
that whenever it pleased Heaven to call
her father from this world, she should no

longer

TIIK OLD IRTSU BAPvONET. 95

^ono-er have any claim to a residence at
Piinccly Hall; but her .sanguine mind
had never admitted a thought of lier loved
parent's early dissolution, therefore had
no apprehensions on the latte/ subjects.
Had she once made a serious reflection
on the possibiUty of losing him, the com-
bination of both circumstances would
liave been to her a source of constant in-
quietude, for she adored her father with
as ardent an affection as he did her, and
her dearest happiness was centered in tlie
beloved place where she resided. The
Baronet, iiowever, was neither unmindful
of casualties, nor so confident of his own
life, as to believe its duration zvould p<iss
the customary limit of man's existence.
He was already past sixty, a martyr to
the gout more than one half of each year
<luring the last ten, and always appre-
hensive lest it should reach his stomacli ;
yet, as he was in every other respect of a.
healthy constitution, it was not impro-
bable but he might live to be some years

older.

9'6 THE OLD IRISH 6AR0NET,

older. Sfill, however, he was mortal, and
liable to the casxialties that attend Imman
existence. Could he see his Ellen hap-
pily married, ht? v/as not so attached to .
life but that he could then resign it,
without a sigh' after the enjoyments he'
left behind ; but while she, young, beau-
tiful, and wealthy, remained single, his
heart secretly acknowledged its wish that
he might be spared to protect, and perhaps
prevent her from becoming the prey of
some needy fortune-hunter. The Baronet
bad no ambition that his Ellen should
drive a carriage emblazoned with a ducal
coronet, or any coronet at all ; yet if
such a thing offered, and that it pleased
her to accept of it, he would not say no
— because it was a coronet, and to shew
his singularity of opinion ; but he had
much rather she were the wife of a re-
spectable commoner, than see her figure
in the world a high titled lady, or what
was still more repugnant to his feelings,
a woman of fashion. In shoi% Sir Tho-
mas

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 97

nias could not reconcile himself to any
eliange that should ultimately remove his
Ellen from Princely Hall ; and to fix her
in it its future mistress, was the long-con-
ccrted plan of his heart and his head.
For this intent he wished to form a per-
sonal acquaintance with its future mas-
ter, not indeed to make an offer to him
of his Ellen, hut in the hope that his
Ellen's amiahle qualities and lovely per-
son might etiect what lie so ardently de-
sired ; and, setting aside a fond father's
partiality, that hope was consistent with
reason, for Ellen O'Callaghan was form-
ed to create love in any heart not already
preoccupied hy another ohject. The Ba-
ronet, without hetraying any appearance
of particular observation, had made sonie
respecting Ellen, which gave him a little
uneasiness, Ijut nothing that could seri-
lusly alarm him ; for whatever anxiety he
ielt, or the cause of ^it, it was solely on
her account, as his most zealous scrutiny
VOL, I. F could

"D-8 THK OLD IJRISFT BAliOKET.

could discover nothing farther to aug-
ment his secret apprehensions. Yet, what-
ever vv'ere the grounds of this little un-
easiness, he became more anxious for his
continental tour tlian formerly, and at
length fixed the period of his departure
for the. first week of the ensuing May,
and it was now the latter end of January.
Mr. Sylvester, whose knowledge of foreign
languages and places rendered him a most
desirable companion in such a journey,
very readily acquiesced in attending his
friends on it ; and he, as well as Sir Tho-
mas, anticipated with pleasure the advan-
tages Miss O'Callaghan would receive^i^
its progress.

** Connolly,'* said the Baronet, '* have
you any inclination to see some of the
iine places of this world, before you take
your departure to the next ? You may
chance to return from the former to
<rive some account of them — and indeed,
from your own creed, it is not unlike-

THE OLD IKISH BARONET. 99

\y but you may pay us a visit from the
other."

** Can I see a finer place nor Princely
Hall, yur Honour?" asked the butler.

^* Pho ! to be sure you can," answered
Sir Thomas. '* And what's more, you
may chance to get the Pope's blessing,
or perhaps kiss his Holiness's toe, by the
way. You may say your prayers in the
chapel of Loretto, or make a pilgrimage
to Jerusalem ; and if you don't go to
Heaven with a clear conscience after that,
Connolly, why then you may come back
and send the priest to Mount Calvary
with peas in his shoes — but, unless he's a
fool, he'll not forget to boil them before
he goes."

** I'd go width yur Honour all the
world ovir," replied Connolly, '* though
I was lo die afore 1 got to the ind of it,
and width God's blissin so I will too.
But if I shudn't cum back agin, Sir
Thomas, why, did or alive, I hope yu'U
bring me ovir to biry me."

F 2 ** Never

ft)0 Trre OLD lEISII BARONET.

^' Never fear that, my good Connolly/*
answered'^tbe Baronet; *^for though I
shan't bury you alive, you may depend
on it I'll not keep you above ground
\vhen you are ipdo facto dead ; and you
shall mix with the clay of my forefathers,
my holiest fellow."

'* Width yurs, yur Honour," cried he,
wiping his tearful eye; '* lit me be laid at
yur feet in the grave, and I shall rist in
pace."

'* So 3^ou shall, so you shall, my worthy
friend," exclaimed Sir Thomas, pressing
the old man's hand in his; ** and when
the general day of account summons us
all to render up cur's, I can say— Father!
this has been my faithful servant."

The butler kissed the hand whicli held
his, and sobbed aloud over it. The Ba-
ronet was equally affected ; and both
master and man experienced the sympa-
thetic feelings that spring from mutual
regard, and mutual confidence.

A iQ\y days after the final appointment

of

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 101

of the intended jolirney, some letters were
brought to the Baronet one morning
while he was at breakfast with the family,
which he desired Ellen to open and read
for liim. One bore the Dnblin post- mark,
and was directed in a hand unknown to
her. She broke the- seal, and looked first
at the signature — *' Goodness, papa,"
exclaiq^ed she, *' if this letter is not sign-
ed Edward Newburgh !"

** Newburgh !" repeated Sir Thomas^
jo}'fully, and putting on his spectacles.^
*' Give it to me, Ellen, till I see is it in-
deed from himself"

*' Newburgh !" echoed Mr. Sylvester,,
but said no more.

The letter contained but few words,
and the Baronet, with a pleased counter
Dance, read then?, aloud. ^

*' My dear Sir,

*' Your letter of a long:
dale back, did not receive till a few weeks
F 3 ago

102 TlfE OLD lEISH BARONET.

ago at the St. James's. Shall be happy in
the honour of your acquaintance, and
^vill be with you (the moment I settle
some business here) as expeditiously as
four high-mettled racers can convey me
down to Princely Hall. — Respects to Miss
O'C. and am, my dear Sir,
Your's, &c.

Edward Newburoh.
Iloira Hotel, Dublin.''

'* Very laconic," remarked Mr. Syl-
vester.

*' It's the fashion, I suppose,*' said
Ellen,

'' It's to the purpose, however,'* re-
plied Sir Thomas.

Ellen did not much relish the visit of
this fashionable writer, because he was a
stranger, and because she understood he
was— a man of fasliion, and might per-
haps make comparisons between her rus-
tic

'HIE OLD IRISH BAEONBT. 103

tic manners, and the more finished graces
of his fashionable female acquaintances.

Sylvester liked it much less, although
he Mas not afraid of the man of fash.ion■S'
l=emarks on himself — in fact, he had no
fears on the subject ; but he probably
apprehended an interruption to the studies
of his fair pupil, which the intended jour-
ney had of late made him doubly assidu-
ous to advance. He retired, however,
without betraying the most remote symp-
toms of his internal sentiments, and
shortly after Miss 0'CaHa,ghan rose to
follow him to the studying room.

As the was going away, Sir Thomas
called her back, to say he wished to have
a private conversation with her when she
had finished her lessons. The Baronet
looked more serious than usualy aiui EHeii
replying she Mould attend his commands,
quitted the apartment less pleased, of
rather less at ease within herself, than
she had ever done before.

On entering that one where Mr. Syl-
f 4 vester

104 THE OLD IRISH EAKONET.

- vester waited for her, she observed him
seated at the table, resting his bead in
thoughtful attitude on his hand. He
'Started up at her approach, and, without
'either of them speaking, he placed her
chair, and they both mechanically took
their seats. Ellen took up a drawing of
Princely Hall, which she had the day be-
fore sketched — *' I think it tolerably cor-
rect, Mr. Sylvester," said she, after ex-
amining it for some time. ** 1 shall take
it with me on my travels — perhaps,'*
added slie, M'ith a heavy sigh, ^ *' I may
never see the original again when once I
quit it."

Sylvester raised his eyes to her for an
instant: he responded her sigh like a
faint echo, but spoke not in rep!y.

*' We are to be absent two years," re-
sumed she; '' and in that time - — my
God, Mr Sylvester, what changes may
not take place f

It was the hrst time Ellen had ever
spoke/ or even reflected, on a subject

which

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 105

which the visit of Mr. Newburgh, tlie
future heir apparent of the Hall, had cer-
tainly given birth to in her mind.

** Should my father die !'* — she drop«
ped the drawing on the table, and leaned
her head over it,

** Heaven forbid," exclaimed Sylves-
ter, " that the world should soon be de-
prived of his invaluable existence 1 Yet,
^ve^e it Heaven's will, Miss O'Callaghan,
YOU might stilLhope to revisit. Princely
Hall."

** How could that be?" said she, rais*
ing her head with ;quickness, and looking,
at him with some, surprise, or rather an
expression of enquiryi *^ You know Mr.
Newburgh is a young and an unmarried
man — 1 wish he were otherwise," she
akled.

^* So do I," emphatically pronounced
Mr. Sylvester.

'* Aud then," cried Ellen, /' 3/^2/ also

might chance to be a,2:aiti a resident here;

for, had he any famih, where could he

V 5 find

iOQ THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

find so M'orthy a preceptor as Mr. Syl»
vester ?"

A slight bow acknowledged her com-
plhnent, but he gave no other answer to

'it.

'' I do not hkc his coming at all/* con-
tinued she; ** and I heartily wish we had
been on our journey before the letter ar-
rived— do not you also, Mr. Sylvester ?"

" Why should I, Miss O'Callaghan ?"
he answered. *' 1 have no wish to
form — '*

** Indeed !*' cried she, hastily interrupt-
ing him. ** Then you must be veri/>ha,p^
py, if you liave nothing to wish for."

** I did not say that, Madam," he re-
plied ; *'but I certainly have no wish to
form that can be gratified."

" Yet still you might have the wish,
]\Ir. Sylvester," said she, again sighing;
** and if you were, what would you de-
sire ?"

Sylvester's face was crimsoned, but he
affected to smile off his embarrassment.

**That

1

Till: OLD IRISH baronet; 107

** That is a question, Miss O'Calla-
gbaii," he replied, *' that I could not
answer- even to myself; for the mind (5f
man is so ambitious^ that though I were
even to point to fortune, there would be
still something wanted to give happi-
ness/'

*' Shall I say what it would be with re-
spect to you?" she cried.

^* You have my permission to say what
you think, Madam,'' he answered. '* But
pardon me if I doubt of your sagacity
reaching what it is."

*^ Emily Millbank," said she. *' Now,
am I a true disciple of Apollo's or not?"

*' Were I incbned to pay you. a com-
|>liment, Miss 0*Callaghan, at the ex-
pence of your understanding, " he replied,
*' I should say, that with regard to your
divine qualities, you assuredly were a ce>
lestial descendant ;. but with respect ■ to
\ouY divinatiori, 1 acknowledge Miss Mill-
bank to be every thing the heart of man
can look for in vomaii—but Mi.^s Mill-
F 6 bank.

lOS THE OLD IRISH BARONET,

bank has many equals, and I have seen
her superior." '

*' You are in part honest in your con-
fessions at least, Mr. Sylvester," said
'Ellen, as she pettishly turned over some
papers and books, *' though you will not
make a full avowal. But forgive me — I
have no right to interrogate you, and in-
deed it was merely from want of thought
that I proceeded so far. Yet it will be
no unfriendly wish to say, that I hope
your superior divinity may hereafter make
you as happy as you deserve to be."

^* I thank you for tlie hope, Miss
O'Callaghan," ^aid Sylvester, endeavour-
ing to suppress a truant sigli ; ** but on
that subject I have none for myself—
shall we commence our lessons r"

Mr. Sylvester's question wa.s an in-
direct hint for Ellen to drop the dis-
course. She took it as it was really
meant, and began her studies^ but in so
careless and indifferent a manner, that
this da}'s instructions might be set dowa

03

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. lOD

as a blank in the article of her improve-
ments.. Even Mr. Sylvester himself
seemed vv-anting in spirit to prosecute his
usual avocations ; and when the hour of
relaxation arrived, and they separated,
Ellen quitted the apartment without once
opening her li[)s to farther conversation,
and left her tutor to pursue without in-
terruption the silent meditations which
appeared deeply to engross him-.

CHAR

no THE OLD IRISH EARONfeT,

GHAP. vi:

•• That love which virtue begs, and virtue grants."

Henry vith,

Ellen reparred to the study where
tlie Baronet awaited her. She was un-
usually low-spirited, nor could slie con-
ceal a (It'jection so uncoinvnon to her.
Her father perceived it as she entered,
and, affectionately taking- her hand, en-
qidred into the cause. Ellen kissed his,
and a smile played through the starting
tear.

** One of its causes, my dear papa,-
was," said she, '* that I thought you ap-
peared displeased with me tiiis morning
li'hep I quitted you."

^•' You

THE OLD IRISH BARONET, III

'' You were indeed mistaken, my
Ellen/' replied the fiither. ** Why should
1 ? But what were the others?'*

Ellen blushed, but was too much tlie
child of nature to have any, subterfuge in
her replies.

** I was disconcerted by Mr. New-
burgh *s letter, papa," she answered. *• I
do not much like his coming here."

*' But that is a strange prejudice, my
iove," said the Baronet, *' and against a
person whom you have never seen, nor
heard any thino- to his disadvantaoe. Mr.
New burgh I imagine to be a very ele-
gant man, and it seems to me you should
be rather pleased at his coming. It sel-
dom happens that a young unmarried
woman is averse to the company of an
agreeable and respectable male visitor,
unless indeed she has very particular rea-
sons for objecting to it, and those my
Ellen cannot have with regard to I\Ir.
Newbnrgh. However, sit down, my love,
for I vv'ish to speak to you very seriously

coil-

11^ THE OLD IPISH BARONEr.

concerning that gentleman, and likewise
on some otlier business."

Ellen took a chair near her father,

*^ Then you were not angry with mC;
'dear papa?" said she,

** Indeed I was not^ my love," he an*
swered;. *^ nor do 1 ever remember to
liave been seriously displeased with my
Ellen in my life, neither can I ever be so
Avhile she fondly fidfiUs the duties of a
daughter."

*' And these 1 hope she ever v/ill do,
my dear papa," cried Ellen, again pres-
sing his hand to her lips. '* And now
tliat I have recovered my spirits, what^
are this dearest papa's commands ?"

** My Ellen," said the Baronet, 'Mis-
ten to me with attention ; I shall not
utfend you by adding * and be candid in
your replies,' for I know you to be truth
itself, and th^t candour has been your
undeviating maxim, since your tongue
first learned to articulate. Now I am
going to turn ini/ ozin accuser, and avov/
3 myself

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 113

myself guilty of secret dissimulation, or
at least of what amounts to the same
thing, of having been these many months
past a secret observer, or, if you think the
term more applicable, a spy on your most
trifling actions. Nay, even to your very
thoughts I have penetrated, and it is
only at this moment that I reveal it.*'

Ellen started, her face and neck were
dyed to crimson ; and here again the Ba-
ronet dissembled, fof he appeared not to
notice \\?,\ but too visible confusion.

** My Ellen," continued he, after a
pause of some moments, in which he
affected to use his snuff-box, but in
reality to give her time to compose herself,
*^ you cannot doubt that the happiness
of my life is centered in your's. My wish
is not only to see it at the present mo-
ment, but to have a conviction of its per-
manency, when I am no longer in this
world to contribute towards it. I do not
think that happiness is only to be found

in

^

n4 TKE OLD IRISH BARONET.

in wealth, in rank, or in both together;
but 1 am firmly of opinion that it depends
much on equality. You are a young wo-
man of highly-respectable connexions,
the daughter of one of the first Baronets
in Ireland, and heiress to a fortune that
entitles you to form a superior alliance.
Those circumstances considered, my Ellen^
hou^ever remote might be my wi^h to biass
your choice in thfe most essential point of
your lite, yet still it is incumbent on me
to point out where it would be highly im.*
prudent and improper to fix it, as well as
where it would be most advisable, and to
me most desirable. 1 have told you,.
Ellen, that for many months past I have
made it m^^ study to observe you — yet I
was delicate in mentioning my surmises,
lest 1 should be in error,, but this morn-
ing has determined me." Sir Thomas
took her hand with peculiar tenderness,
and held it within his. *' When Mr,
Newburgh's letter arrived to-day/* he
^wenton, ** I perceived the eflfect its con-
tents

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 115

tents had on you — I saw the glance your
eye gave towards Mr. Sylvester, though
by him it passed unnoticed. Ellen, that
glance from your intellio'ent eye con-
firmed my suspicions — the interest you
feci for Mr. Sylvester makes you indiffe-
rent as to every other person."

The colour on Ellen's cheek was now
changed to a deadly white — -she leaned
her head on her father's shoulder, and
burst into tears. He kissed the dear
agitated girl with affection — ** I am not
angry with you, my loved Ellen," resum-
ed he : ^^ I can make allowances for an
innocent girl's partiality in favour of a
man of merit ; but however praise-worthy
]Mr. Sylvester's character in itself and I
allow him all it deserves, Jie is' not the
man whom Ellen OCallaghan nuist think
of for a husband. Was Mr. Sylvester's
rank in lite on an equality with hers^
there is not a man in existence I should
prefer as son-in-law, for he is in himself
every thing a gentleman ought to be,

and

116 THE OLD IRISH BARONET;

and infinitely superior to what many
gentlemen are, nor should his want of
fortune be any objection. Of him I have
only this much farther to say — I esteem
'and respect him. If his heart has ever
given you a moment's preference, his
judgment and his reason have pointed
out to him how fallacious would prove his
hopes, and his head has checked the im-
prudence his heart miglit be guilty of.
Had I ever, by a word, a look, or an ac-
tion, observed him to deviate from the
strict rules of prudence towards you, I
should have driven him from the Hall
with indignation at his daring presump^
tion ; but he knows what is due to you
and to himself, and he is therefore secure
in my lasting esteem. Nor shall he ever,
with my consent, quit my protection,
nor after my death be left dependant on
that of any other person. It may per-^
haps be thought imprudent of me to have
brought so amiable a character as a resi«
dent into my house ; but when I sought

a pre-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 117

a preceptor for my daughter, it was not
a disagreeable pedantic master I wanted,
"who would deter her from learning by
his moroseness — it was an amiable pleas-
ing instructor, whose gentleness and good
qualities would stimulate her wish to im-
prove by his lessons. Such a man Vvas
Mr. Sylvester ; and so great is my faith
in his probity, that could the two last
years be recalled, he is of all others the
man to whom I should again commit the
care of my daughter's education and
moral principles. It depends on my
daughter now not to disgrace herself, but
let the example of her preceptor be to her
the guide of her future conduct ; I am
satisfied that she cannot have a better/'

Ellen raised her eyes to her father, and
their expression seemed tacitly to ask him
— ** Whether her past conduct respecting
Mr. Sylvester had been such as to merit
any disgraceful reflection?" The Baro-
net thought there appeared somewhat of
reproach in his daughter's looks^ he there-
fore

118 THE OLD IRISH EARONET,

fore continued — *' Such as my Ellea
hitherto has been, sucii would I wish
were every female character — what my
Ellen will be, depends on her own mag*
nanimity, and I doubt not of its raising
her superior to every little feminine weak-
ness, and preserving that deference which
is due to herself as well as to her family.
On this subject I am hereafter silent, and
promise that I shall never again be a
secret observer of your conduct. It is
sufficient that I have once spoken to you
on the business, nor would I offend your
integrity by harbouring any further
doubts. Be still, and always, the friend
of Mr. Sylvester ; allow him the brotherly
and respectful attentions he has hitherto
paid ; nor shall a suspicion ever again cross
my mind, that, while you are receiving
his private instructions, you will be for-
getful of my admonitions, for my con-
fidence in my Ellen is unshaken.'*

'' O my father," cried she, sinking oa
her knees before him, ** how kind are

you

THE OLD IRISH BAnONET. 119

you to your Ellen's weakness ! I own it
— I cannot, though I should even wish,
conceal it ; and, Heaven knows my heart,
I would conceal nothing from you — yet, **
•till this hour, I was ignorant of its true
sentiments : yes, my dear indulgent pa-
rent, I acknowledge Mr. Sylvester to have
been but too amiable in my eyes. Un-
used to any general society, his superi-
ority to every person I have known, I
could not but discriminate. If I have
loved, or love him still, think not it is
-^vith the romantic passion of a weak girl,
who, contrary to the sage counsels of ex-
gerience, perseveres in her folly. No,
\wy beloved father, such will not be your
Ellen .; you shall not have to blush for,
jior reproach her with disobedience — vet
I cannot, indeed I cannot, banish at
once from my mind the impression it has
so gradually made; but it shall not be
my fault or I will conquer it. New so-
ciety and new scenes will open to my

view

120 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

view in our destined journey, and, by en*
grossing my attention, may, I trust, ob-
literate it entirely. I know, my dear
f)apa, what respect is due to you as well
' as to myself, and depend on your Ellen's
promise — she never shall disgrace either.'*

The Baronet raised her in his arms,
and held her for some time closely folded
to his bosom.

** I do depend on it, my Ellen/' he
cried, ** and glory in my daughter.'^
Again he seated her beside him, and, after
allowing her some lyinutes to recover
from her agitation, he resumed his con-
versation. — *' I believe I need not doubt
your attachment to Princely Hall, my
love,'' he began, *^ the place wherein you
drew your first breath, and where you
have since resided ?*'

'• Indeed you need not, my beloved
papa,'' she answered, *' and the place
M'liere I should wish to draw my last."

** I thought so, my Ellen/' satd he,

**and

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 121

** and not unlikely but you may— at
least not improbable but you may con-
tinue its mistress during your life."

**Oh!" exclaimed Ellen, raising her
hands and eyes devoutly, without
understanding his implication, *' Oh!
God grant it may be so, for then shall
the dearest of fathers continue to be its
master/'

The Baronet shook his head and smiled
— *' Not so, my Ellen," he replied,
''The course of nature condemns me to
the grave many years before you ; and
could I see you once established the mis-
tress of the Hall, it mattered little whea
I went thither. My Ellen," he con-
tinued, " though I abhor the idea of
what is called maich-makifig, and would
sooner see my daughter the wife of a
pauper who sued for her, than offer her
to a prince, I do not think that wishing to
see her foitunately allied, and endeavour-
ing in every honourable manner to pro-
mote that alliance, can be termed making

voj., ir ' G a sale

l!2^ THE OLD iniSH BARONET.

a sale of her. Now I honestly confess
t]iat it is, and has been a long cherished
Avish of mine, to see you established as
the future mistress of your birth-place.
Your fortune, not to mention any other
requisites you possess (and I do not
scruple to say to herself, that my Ellen
is not an object to be overlooked by our
sex), very justly allows you to look up
to its heir " . .

Ellen looked with astonishment — '' Mr.
Newhuro'h !" sh.c exclaimed.

** Yes, " resumed the Baronet, *' it is
even so. If r^ir. Newburgh is found de-
serving of your good o])inion (and I have
no doubt but he will), he is of all men
the one I should wish to see you married
to. It is a delicate subject, I own, to
sneak of to you, my love," he added;
" but when you consider that tliere is
^0 heir of mine to possess this property —
Y'hen you reflect on the happiness you
would yourself derive in a continuance
here — the pleasure /should experience in

know-

THE OLD IRISH RAItOKF.T. 1^3

knowing that, tliough not blessed U'itii a
son, it stiilhad a mistress in m^ daughter,
added to the innumerable blessings your
residence here would preserve to all
around you, it surely should be an object
of serious consideration to yourself. But
remember, my Ellen, that, with regard to
]\Ir. Newburgh, or any other md,vi, I lay
no force on your inclinations, provided
tiie object of your choice is, in birth,
manners, and station, a gentleman. But
should a mutual prepossession of each
concur with my hopes, 1 do not liesitate
to say, it would make me the happiest of
fathers, and gratify every wish of my
heart, to behold you united to i\Ir. New-
burgh/'

I'b.e Baronet once more kissed the pale
cheek of Ellen, now become of a more
pallid hue from the latter part of her fa-
ther's discourse, lie did not urge her
to make any reply, and he was too gene-
rous to impose any commands, where af-
fection and duty so strongly impelled
G 2 obe-

J24 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

obedience to his will, but, kindly consi-
derate of her feelings, Sir Thomas left his
daughter to compose them by herself.
She found it no easy matter to tranquillize
her agitated spirits; but conscious as she
was (>f her own weakness respecting Mr.
Sylvester, and alike sensible how neces-
sary it was that weakness should be over-
come, slie did not suffer herself to in-
dulge long in her mental reflections, but,
exerting her fortitude with her better
judgment, resumed her wonrted avoca-
tions, and without permitting her mind
to prejudice itself further against Mr.
Newburgh, she endeavoured to banish
those she had already admitted, and left
to chance what might result from her
acquaintance with him.

A smart groom, mounted on a very
handsome grey horse, galloped down
the avenue of Princely Hall one fore-
noon, and was followed as close at the
heels as three similar nags could draw a
dashing curricle, in which sat the driver

an i

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 125

and a servant in a wliite and crimson
livery. Ellen was employed at her daily
avocations uith Mr. Sylvester, in a room
that gave a view of the cavalcade, and-
she hastily started towards the window,
to look who it was might be^ coming.

•*'They are all servants, Mr. ^Sylves-
ter,'* said she, '' and 1 don't know the
livery. What a curious way to drive the
liorses two and one ! — but I suppose it is
fashionable."

** Doubtless it is, my dear iVIiss O'Cal-
laghan/* he replied, ** for every thing
that's absurd is so; and the more outr6
the appearance, the more it denotes the
consequence of, perhaps, the leader, or, at
all events, thefollower of the '* cameleon
nymph."

** is she so changeable, Mr. Sylvester?'*
asked Ellen.

*' Never to be caught," he answered,

** even by those who make it the study

of their lives to walk in her footsteps, for

in the pursuit she evades them. For in-

G 3 stance,

12G THE OLD UilSn BARONET.'

stance, now — a leading personage apv
}:'ea!s to-day in a black scratch (the mo-
<lern epithet for a ci'op wig), his' cravat
vip to his under lip, and the collar^of his
'coat above his ears ; one leg enveloped in
a boot, the other in a silk stockhig and
shoe, which, by way of attracting further-
attention, is ornamented with a coloured
&\\k handkerchief wrapped below the
knee, or near the ancle, and a bludgeon,
or Hercules's staff In his hand, by way
of a v/alking'Stick, on which he affects
the limp of Valcan ; v/eil, this personage
— and if a royal one, so niuch the better,
is seen, and by the following day every
satellite of his has their hair docked, and
wears a black scratch, witii all the rest
of the etceteras — but this day that per-
sonage assumes a different appearance;
he now wears his own hair, shews his chin
and ears, and is vice versa the reverse of
what he was the day before; he laughs
in his sleeve at his copyists, and indulges
their fancy by treating them with some-
thing

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. I '27

tiling- iicuvelle at each succeeding day
durina- his leadln<>: career."

" Does fashion then go by routine,
Mr. Sylvester?" said Ellen; *' and is it
the saii^e with the ladies?"

'* Assuredly, my dear Miss O'Calla-
ghan," he answered. '* Look at the
ne\v'S[)apers — * We hear the Duchess of

B , and Countess of C , with th.e

elegant Lady Charlotte D , are to

take the lead of fashion the approaching-
winter; and we understand it is the in-
tention of those ladies to adopt a Paphian
costumCy and appear as the three graces
of nature."

*' What! IMr. Sylvester," exclaimed
Ellen, with a start of astonishment, ** is
it to appear" — she blushed and hesitated.

** Why not? ' replied he, catching at
her meaning. ** Are not the women of
haut ton now every thing but drtsscd?
And what oifference is it whether they
exhibit themselves in propria persona, as
G 4 riature^s

i28 THE OLD J'RISH BARONET.

nature's graces, or leave the imagination
nothing to conceive ?"

A projecting portico over the hall
door now concealed from the immediate
fv'iew of the observers above some of
the new comers, as tlie voice of one of
them was heard exclaiming — *' Devilish
nice ring that there for a trot. 1 say,
Bobby, bring here that there horse of
ypur's, till I give him a sweat round it.'

** Why, Sir," replied another, ** the
horses be all iu a foam already ; better
giye them a cooling, I think.*'

** Poor fellow, poor fellow/' resumed
the first speaker, as if caressing one of

the animals. *' Aye, they are d d

hot, to be sure. Here, Dick, you throw
on their body-clothes, and walk them
round it. Is Sir Thomas O'Callaghan
within?— a devilish fine stud. he has, I
warrant — are those there his stables ? — is
lie at home, 1 say ? — if not, shall go and
take a look at his cattle."

**Sir

triE OLD IRISH BARONET. 129'

*' Sir Thomas is not at home, Sir/' an-
swered one of the domestics of the house;
** but Miss O'Callaghan, I believe, is
within.''

The enquirer seemed as if following the
servant up stairs, and immediately after
the latter threw open the room door — ^' A
gentleman, Madam ;" and the gentleman
was heard ascending, as he cracked his
whip without ceremony, and whistled to
Ellen's little dog, who barked with ap-
parent indignation at the stranger's ap-
proach.

*' Whew, Vv'hew! Vixen, Snarler, Lion,
Gruff — what the deviTs your name? —
Did you never see a man before, that you
are so cursed surly? Are you Miss
O'Callaghan's dog, eh r" which last ques-
tion he uttered just as he entered the
apartment, and they beheld the driver of
the curricle.

Mr. Sylvester was advancing, rather

cavalierly, to check what he imagined the

groom's impertinence, but Miss O'Galla-

G 5 ghan

ISO TII'e old IRISH BARONET.

ghan perceiving' his intention, and not
knowing who the stranger might be,
liastily ste{3t forward to prevent his speak-
ing, as slie said herself, with more exalta-
tion of manner than she usually adopted
-—''I don.'t knov/ who it is that makes
mention of me, but request to be inform-
ed."

*' Oh, who /am. Madam," cried he,
without appealing the least disconcerted.
^* When on the turf, I'm called Jockey
Ned — in London, the Dash — in Dublin,
the Nonesuch — at present Tm plain Ed-
ward Newburgh ; but should I ever be
the master of Princely Hall, my reverence
for its present owner shall get me dubbed
an O Callaghan, by virtue of letters pa-
tent from the great seal."

'' Mr. Newburgh!" exclaimed Ellen,
who, though wolvery a^^reeahly surprised,
could not forbear a smile at the singulari-
ty of dress, and address, of this new visi-
tor; and Mr. Sylvester, whatever /^/i- sen-
thneuts might be, did not forget his po-
liteness,

TIIK OLD IRISH BARONET, 131

liteness, for, taking the chair from the
servant, who was placing one as he heard
the name given, with a respectful bow
handed it himself.

Mv. Newburgh, for it was him indeed,
appeared nothing like any thing Ellen had
ever betcjre seen under the form of a
gentleman, but he was the prototyj)e in
dress of an English groom living with
i\Ir. Millbank. He v.orc a short blue
frock coat, from beneath the sleeves and
collar of wliich was seen an inside scarlet
waistcoat, and the lappels of two or tl^ree
outside ones above it; leather breeches
and-boots, his hair cropt close to his
head, a Belcher silk handkerchief tied
round his neck and the ends of another
lianging from out his breast pocket. He
had thrown off his box- coat with nine-
teen capes, as he aliglited from the cut--
rlc le, but had forget to leave his driving
vhip behind with it.

The chair presented by Mr. Sylvester

was as politely declined as offered, and

o 6 IMr.

132 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

Mr. Newbursfh walked towards the
window where Ellen stood. He pulled
out a glass that was suspended from a
black ribbon at his breast, and was in the
,act of applying it to his eye as he ap-
proached her, but, recollecting himself,
he desisted from this most impertinent
and insulting trait of modern manners,
and affected to twirl it round his fingers.

*' In Sir Thomas O'Callaghan's ab-
sence, Sir,'* said Ellen, '* permit his
daughter to greet your arrival at Princely
Hall. My papa is only riding out some-
where about the grounds, and will, 1 dare
say, soon return ; or, if you please, I
shall send in quest of him, as I know he
is impatient to bid you welcome."

** Happy in the honour of seeing Sir
Thomas O'Callaghan's daughter," replied
he, bowing. '' But, pray, don't send
after the Baronet. Shall mount one of
my groomis' horses, and go in search of
him myself. Devilish fine rides here-
abouts I see for exercising a racer. 1 sup-
pose,

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 133

pose, Sir," to Sylvester, *' you often take
a gallop over them. Do you ever ride,
Miss O'Callaghan ? Should make you
clear a five-bar gate with any woman in
Great Britain — ^just the figure for it — no^
carry more weight than little Will, my
Newmarket jockey. This gentleman
your brother, 1 pres — (O no, d — n me,
I forgot — throw out Neddy that"
(aside).

Ellen blushed at her remissness in not
introducing Mr. Sylvester, though in fact
she had hardly the opportunity of doing
so.

'' Mr. Sylvester, Sir," said she; *' and
I ask pardon for my tardiness in etiquette.
This gentleman is a friend of my papa's,
and an inmate of Princely.'*

''Your husband, perhaps. Madam?"
cried Newburgh.

Ellen blushed deeper than before, and
Sylvester, with a side glance, observing
her confusion, took up the reply.

*' That distinguished appellation, Sir,"

said

334 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

said lie, '^ I have neither the vanity nor
presumption of aspiring to ;" and, to pre-
vent any further remarks on the subject,
he immediately changed it by adding—
I*' You found the roads pleasant, I ima-
gine, Air. Nev.'burgh, for the time of
year?"

'^ Smooth as the turf all along/' he an-
swered. *' Left Dublin at twelve — now
a quarter to three — thirteeiT miles an
hour — take the long odds that I drive
them there o-ievs of mine, four in hand,
back again in sixty-five minutes/'

*' It is thirty miles posting,'' said Syl-
vester, *' and vou must flv insteatl of
gallop/'

*' Send an out- rider to clear the way,
and whirl the wheels like a smoke-jack,"
cried Newburgli ^^ Will 3'ou say done,
l^lr. Sylvester, and shall take iMissO'Calla-
o'han in tlie curricle to "'ive vou chance/'

*^ Excuse me, Sir," said Ellen, *' I am
ii^ot partial to )iotcricty."

*^ Notoriety!" exclaimed Mr. New-
burgh,

TflE OLD IRISn BARONET. 135

burgli, '^ nothinp^ like it in oicr world —
3t*s the go — should not be known else.''

"■ But I have no ambition to be krwzvn/"
replied Ellen ; '' and, at all events^ am
too fond of my cxist^nice to stamp my
fame at the risk of it.*'

''' And I/' cried Sylvester, with a smile,
'' too poor to become a gamester/'

The entrance of Sir Thomas O'Calla-
ghan put an end for the present to this
jockey-like kind of discourse; and it is
needless to say how truly rejoiced the Ba-
ronet was at meeting his new visitor, lie,
unlike his daughter, was prepossessed in
IMr. Newburgh's favour, therefore made
no disagreeable comments on the appear-
ance of this gentleman. His conversa-
tion, however, did not strike Sir Thomas
as being exactly what he expected from
an elegant young man, of the highly-
finished school of modern accomplish-
ments; yet he thought him a lively, agree-
able, good humoured companion; and
whatever was absurd or outre in his de-

poit-

136 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

portment, was set down as being the man-
ners of the" world he moved in. Yet the
Baronet's very exalted opinion g1 Mr.
Newburgh seemed rather at a stand ; but
this he kept concealed to himself, till a
longer acquaintance should afford him a.
better opportunity of judging the real
qualifications of his visitor.

CHAR

THE OLD llaSH BARONET. ' 1^7

CHAP. VI I.

*' Je n'ai jamais vu d'homme ayant de la fierte dans I'ame, en
niontrer dans son m«intien.'*

Mr. Newburgh had not been many clays
an inmate of Princely Hall, before, to use
his own words, he found himself '' com-
pletely at home." He rode Sir Thomas's
horses, drove Sir Thomas's carriages, or-
dered the servants, shot the game, hunted
the hounds, and lamented he could not
cut ck)wn the great trees in the park to
make a race-ground, which he protested
could be converted into one of the finest
four-n.ile courses in Great Britain. He

prided

158 Tri.F OLD IRISH BAKONET.

prided Idniself on being a.^' deep one" oit
tlie sod^ and ore of the limt judges of a
horse's j)oints. H'lo okili in driving was
no less vaunted ; and^ in short, his knovv'-
' ledge of all daahing basinets very justly
entitled him to the term of *' a knowing
one.''

Sir Thomas G'Callaghan, though little
\'ersed in many of the practical essentials
<)f modern life, was well acquainted with
the manners that ought truly to cha-
racterize if; and though his education was
of the Oid schovly still he knew that a
gentleman u'a.9 a gentleman in every age,
let the fashions revolve as they would;
and that the first man in the realm, if de-
ficient in the manners of one, was only,
fitted toassociate v/ith his domestics. Mr.
Newhurgh, therefore, did not gain much
ground in tlie estimation of the Baronet;
still he was ratlier inclined to pity than
condemn the deficiencies of this young
man's understanding, and seemed of opi-
nion that there were many good qualities

ill

TlIE OLD IRISH BARONET. 159

]n embrvo, which mii>ht make liim a re-
ipectable character;- and could he be
weaned from his favourite pursuits, there
was nothing improbable in the idea of his
])ecoming such. At present, however, Sir
Tliomas did not aj)prove oilmfa^hlo liable
propensities, and, strange to say, after
what is already known on the subject, he
was not anxious that j^liss O'Cadagnaii
s'honld be nuicii in his company; for,
though Mr. New burgh was perfectly
competent to teach her how to manage
her horse with dexterity, and square her
elbows to drive in high stile, yet she
could . learn little else of hini ; and his
conversation about dogs, raceivS, and
jockeys, &c. was not exactly suited to
the Baronet's refined ideas of what ought
to be addressed to an elegant female. Sir
Thomas had indeed been widely mistaken
in the expectation he had formed of this
sprig of fashion. But what did Sir Tho-
mas know of the necessary concomitants
of a first-rate modern young man of dash ?

— hONV

]40 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

— bow should he, living retired as he
did at Princely Hail, in good oldfasiiion-
cd hospitality, and spending thirty -six
thousand a-vear for the benefit of his
f feilow-creatures round it? And was the
iieart of the benevolent Baronet to be
analysed, there might possibly be dis-
covered lurking within it, something of
regret that its future master gave not the
promise of dispensing his blessings in the
place from whence he should draw Jiis
most ample means. Of Ellen's becoming
its future mistress, that was a subject on
which Sir Thomas's thoughts did not of
late much dwell ; yet whenever they did,
the lurking. attachment he stiil felt to his
formerly dear cherished hopes, led him to
believe, that could Mr. Newburgh be-
come once seriously attached to an ami-
able and elegant woman, his reformation
would be more than half effected. But
though that gentleman niight be sensi-
ble of Ellen's perfections, and avaw him-
self her lover, the query was, would, ar

rather

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 141

rather could, the elegant Ellen O'Calla-
ghan relLiru his affection ? The question
answered itself— Ellen O'Callaghan had
already learned discrimination, Mr. New-
burgh and Mr. Sylvester were two cha-
racters as opposite as liglvt and shade;
and while the brilliancy of the one reflec-
ted its perfections on her imagination, it
is not to be supposed she would close her
eyes against the resplendency of his cha-
racter, to wander in darkness over an
uncultivated soil. Yet we shall not be
so unjust to Mr. Newburgh's discern-
mei^t, as to conceal that Miss O'Calla-
glian appeared to him one of the finest
girls, and most accomplished young v/o-
men, he had ever met with ; nor that
his heart was so engrossed by certain ob-
jects; as to have no admittance for any
other. Ellen's image found a place ther-e,
and, next to his own or Sir Thomas's
horses, she had the honour of maintain-
ing the first station in it. But the cry
of the hounds sounded sweeter to his

ear

142 THE OLD IRISn BARONET.

^ar than the tones of her harp, and the
graces of her figure passed unheeded, if
the racing calendar happened to lie in his
way. Yet, with all his foibles, Mr. New-
bnrgh possessed a good heart, good na-
ture, and good humour ; and if he was not
the man of elegance he should be, his
misfortune arose from becoming too early
in life theaiiaster of a very fine fortune,
which led hini into absurdities, through
the easiness x)f his temper, and because,
as he said, '' hotoriety was every thing in
his \\ oihl. "

Mx. Newburgh learned from the Ba-
ronet hiiT intention to go on the Conti-
nent ; and the hitter asked iiim, as words of
course, " \\'oul{i he be one of the party?"

" Would v/ith pleasure. Baronet," he
replied, '' but must attend the spring
meetinLT — have tliree horses to run at
Newmarket — niatch my bay filly, ''High
Flyer," against the course — nothing like
her on it — swift as the winds — thorough
bred, and neat as wax-work — dam to

Blaok-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 113

Black-and-all-black, out of Lord ban-
tam's famous Witch of Endor, whose sire
M'as Ilardicanute, son of Alexander the
Great, by the Emperor of Morocco^ bro-
ther to Edward the Bl ick Prinee, from
the Duke of Squint urn's celebrated Ara-
bian mare Penelope — shall drive down to
Ascot^ and rattle my curricle and greys
to Yorkshire-^ridea match against 131ack-
ihorn's sfarne fillv for tlirce thousand a-
side, p. p. — run her out of the course —
shall be paragraphed, paraplirased^ cari-
catured, and imitated — followed by the
crowds and huzzaed by the mob — that's
life. Baronet ; d n me, that's the go/'

The Baronet knew notliing of the
*\go/' ancl Mr. S\ Uester was as little
acquainted w ith the term, as it was given ;
therefore the subject re^t(d with the per-
son wlio apj>earcd so fully to understand
it.

A new landaulet was brought down
one day to Sir Thomas from Dublin^ who,
being of opinion that every monicd man

sliould

144 THE OLD IRISH BAROKET.

should Spend it as much as lie could
aniongst the tradespeople of his own
country^ preferred having a carriage built
for him in Ireland, to buying one in the
more fashionable metropolis -^ London.
It was a very elegant one; and as the
Baronet wished to view as much country
as he could on his journey, this open car-
riage had been purposely ordered for that
occasion.

Ellen went out with her father and the
gentlemen to look at it v/hen it was un-
cased ; and Mr. Newburgh's judgment
was here again displayed.

"' Hung too higli by twtlve inches, Ba-
jonet/' he exclaimed, while he exaiiiined
it through his glass.

*' It is considerably lower than the la^t
carriage we had from Williams/* said Ellen, '
" and for that reason not so much to my
taste, for it gives the opportunity to every
impertinent coxcomb of peeping to see
.who*s in it.'-

'* Piio ! but it's the dash, Aliss O'Calla-

ghai),'*

TIIP. OXD TRISII BARONET. ^ 145

ghan/' cried Newburgh ; *' low carriages
high stile — mucl-duCkers/*

'• Very convenient for the gout/' re-
marked the Baronet with a smile.
|K '' Heavy too as a showman's caravan/^
Avent on Mr. Newburgh, still inspecting
the vehicle. '' Td lay five to one it rattles
like a loadeil dray over the stones — if
you'd but see one of Hatchet's whiz along
like ahumn)ing-top."

" It appears very light," said Ellen. -

" Shall try it/' cried Newburgh.
*' Come,- Baronet, yoii aqd Miss O'Calla-
ghan get in; I'll shew you the long whip
in first-rate squaring.'*

Sir Thomas drew back, afraid to venture,
and Ellen also shrunk from the hazard
of accompanying so adventurous a Phae-
ton.

'* What i" exclaimed he, *' afraid to
venture yourselves — shall take the dicky
then, aii.d drive B()bby within — Bob's my
coachman — That's knowing — devilish
fiwQ wliip is Bob— beat him hollow though

VOL. I. H — turr

146 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

— turn round the edgG of a shilling, for -a
thousand — never upset but once — mo-
ther in the sociable — damn me, crack it
went — mama not killed, only confound-
edly stunned, by her head coming against
a post — sink the post, what business had'
it in the way }"

" In my opinion/' said Mr. Sylvester^
with a smile, " that story of the sociable
is not calculated to engage cither Sir
Thomas or Miss O'Callaghan to submit
themselves to your guidance/'

" Accidents wiii happen, you know,'*
replied ^Ir. Newburgh. *' Knocked my
tandem to shivers once against a curstd
broad-wlieeied waggon, with a team of
bells that would have frightened a
charger. Away flew Thunder, and Hel-
ter-skelter followed at his heels — could
not pull up for the life of me — bang went
the wheels — smash went the carriage —
topsey-turvey went I, head over heels in-
to the mud — fell soft though, no bones
broke."

A gene*

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 147

A general laugh prevailed at Mr. New-
burgh's tumble iu the mud, in which he
himself good-humouredly joined ; but the
sociable and the tandem were each of
sufficient magnitude to deter any of his
auditors from entrusting themselves to his
Jehu skill.

Bobby was called to fill a corner of
the landaulet, and his master mounted
the dickv.

'* You'll not go far," said the 'Baronet,
^^ as the first dinner bell has rung."

'* Only round the four-mile heat, Bar-
ronet" (meaning the park wall), answer-
ed coachman Neddy — *^ shall be back
again before you reach the dining-par-
lour." He cracked his whip and the
horses flew, notwithstanding the heavi-
ness of the ** showman's caravan."

'* He's a rum jockey, as Mr. Mill-
bank"s groom says," cried old Connolly,
AV'ho stood near tlie hall door behind Miss
O'Callaghan ; '^ and I'm sure I shudn't
nondir to see him drive home width his
H 2 nick

148 THE OLD IRISH EAROKET.

nick broke, God save us ! And for sar-=
tin, Miss Ellen, he put me in mind of an
owld story I hard wonst, whin he sid he'd
be back agin afore you got to the parlir.
There was an owld woman in a village ;
she was what they call a granny, and she
was roastin .a showlder of mutton for her
dinner one day, whin up curns a man a-
horseback to the door, width a pillion be-
hind him; so he tills her she must be
>efter cuming directly to a lady that was
viry bad, and wantid her assistins. So
YOU see, tlie owld woman sid she cud n't
go till she ate her dinner, bekays the mut-
ton v/ould be spilet if she did ; but he
towld her not to be afeared of that, for
she shud be home agin by the time it was
roasted. Well, ]Miss Ellen, oif the granny
wint behind upon the pillion, and sure
enuiF they rode and ftiey gallopuJ, and
they galloped and they rode, ovir hills
and thorough bogs, for miles and miles,
till the poor crater thought she'd nivir
gk to her jurney's ind ; and as to the

nuit-

THE OLD IRISH BAROKST. \4i9

mutton — oil, faitli, slie thouglit that was
biini't to a cindir loijg afore thin."

** Well, but my good Connolly, slior-
ten your story a^ much as possible," cried
JEllen, who did not like to hurt his' honest
old heart by quitting- him abruptly, or
shewing any inattention to his tale, ** for
you know I have no time now to delay
long.-

*' Well, Miss, Tm just at the ind of it,"
said he, and appearing quite anxious that
she should stop to hear it concluded.
*^ So at lait, after travellin further nor I
can till you, they cunis to a wood of
trees, where the man tuck her off of the
baste, and tyed a kerchif across her eyes^
so that she cudn't see a stim at all at all
^vhere she was a-goin ; and he brought her
along ovir brake and briar, till at last and at
lingth they cums to a house, and whin
the man tuck the bandige from her eyes,
there she seed hursilf in a spasish fine
room, all kivired ovir width goold vilvit,
and a beautiful lady lying in bed, viry
H 3 bwid

150 THE OLD IPJSH BAKONET.

bad sure enuff, as the man sid. Welt,
Miss Ellen, the short and the long of it
was, you see, that the owld granny stid
there till this strange lady was brought
to bid of three boys, God bliss em, as
fine childer as ivir the sun shrned on, the
story says; and their modther got will
and hartv asjin, but still the owld woman
nivir know'd who she was; but you see
she bethought hirsilf aftir, and iviry body
sid it too, that it was the queen of the
fairies — but that was nothing to me, nou
no body ilse. So the lady ginn her a
purse of g^oold, and the same man tuck
the owld woman back agin just as they had
cum, not forgittin to kivir her eyes as
afore; and whin she got to her own cabin
(and I warrant it v/as a nate one as well
as the granny), as sure as yu're alive,
Miss Ellen, tliere was the showlder of
mutton a roastin, just as she lift it, and
part of it red and raw, that was not quite
dun."

*' And very probably, mj^ good Con-
nolly/'

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 151

nolly/* said Ellen, laughing, '' the allu-
sion may bold good respecting Mr. New-
burgh's return, for I have delayed so long
to hear your story, that he may be back
again before I reach the dining-parlour,
as I have to change my dress/'

Just as tlie second bell had rung, and
the company v/ere seated at table, our
knight of the turf arrived safe and sound
from his four-mile heat, after having met
v/ith no other accident than driving over
two lambs in the park, and leaving the
lash of his whip suspended as a trophy in
one of the great trees, that had like to
have hung him, like Absalom, into the
bargain. The shephejd, unaccustomed
to h;ive his peaceful reign intruded upon,
and his sheep destroyed by a strange
coaclunan, shook his fist at him, and hol-
loaed out that he'd come to the iJal! in
the evening, when his tlock were penned,
to give him a lici.inif, Tliis Mr. New-
burgh related at table, and signified his
intention of folljwing up the joke, by re-
H 4 turning

152 i^rfi: OLD iRisir bationst.

turning after (-inner in bis coacbman^.^
dress to give the fellow a lesson. He took
the same o}3port unity to make the com-
pany acquainted, tliat lie added to his
'accomplishments that of MerulorMum. and
ranked one of the vejy first amon/^ the
Antczans, This turned the conveiPitioa
upon the fashionable science of pugilism,
respect'kng whicl), as on most other :ud>
jects, *' doctors difiered."

The Baronet obser\Td, that in Irel nd
at least there was no bccasioL to encou-
rage a passion that encouraged itself too-
much already ; it was mischievous at pre-
sent, and art and skill wopld only make
it murderous.

The man of {5cace (our rsa^lers need
not be told we mean Doctor Clay field),
who availed himsejf as much as possible
of the friendly invitations to—- not to say
good things of—the Baronet's table), ad-
mitted that- pugilism, as a species of hos-
tility, was certainly included in the ge-
neral censure pronounced in the New

Teata-

THE OLD IRISH EAUONET.. ^^^^

Testament against warfare oF every kind
-— '* But," added he, " as the obedience
to every iniunciion is necessarilv hmited
by the bounds of social possibilit}', and
we see tiiat warfare unto death is not
only tolerated, but even conseciated in
a legitinuue cause, by the blessing of the
ehnich, so it may be inferred that pu-
gilism, which is a less fatal practice, ought
to be tolerated, and even cherished, in a
state, as a sort of 'apprenticeship to mili-
tary habits, and a nieans of keeping up
that martial spirit which fills our fleets
and armies, the means, under God, to-
which we owe our" predominancy and uni-
versal iulluence."

It was the Doctor's misfortune of late,
to find himself almost a:lways engaged
uith the pert dogmatism of Mr. Sylves-
ter's opinions, whlc'i the latter had the
elfrontery to advance at all times, al-
though his situation as a mere dependant
in the family, ought, in Doctor Clayfield's
mind; to have taught him belter manners;
n 5 biit^

154 THE OLD IRISH BARONETS

but that Mr. S\lvester feared not to de-
liver his sentiments on any subject worthy
of discussion, was a truth that the parson
had in many instances received but too
strong proofs of.

** A long-established opinion has lately
been revoked in doubt,'' said Sylvester.
*' It is boldly asserted, that the practice
of boxing, or, as it is more scientifically
termed, pugilism, is not the brutal de-
grading practice our stupid forefathers
considered it, and our degenerate neigh-
bours persist in believing; that it ought,
on the contrary, to he cherished and ea-
couraged by the example of the great,
and by public favour, as it both furnishes^
a distinguislring and peculiar proof of na-
tional courage and its exercise tends,
above every other means, to foster that
spirit of intrepidity in the minds of the
populace, on which our future existence
as a. nation is to depend. It will scarcely
be seriously denied, that the practice of
this noble science is fraught with every

evil

THE OLD IRISH BARONET, 155

€vil that can debase society — that the
term pugilist, and rogue, are nearly sy-
nonimous, and that its heroes and pro-
fessors figure successively at the Old
Bailey, and make their exit uniformly on
board the hulks, or on the cfyop. It is
equally true, that all those of the lower
class who are inspired with a passion for
these exhibitions, become, in the same
proportion, addicted to drunkenness,
gambliiio;, idleness, and in sliort, degene-
rate into the scum and scourge ot society ;.
while their illustrious superiors, the gen-
tlemen amateurs, are characters distin^
guished more by their frivolity, profli-
gacy, and brutal habits, than by the rank
they dishonour; or if there be a few men
of sense whom fashion has drawn into the
vortex of sueh amusements, they take
them by stealth, and *' blush to find k
fame." The evil, then, if necessary, is
surely still an evil ; } et, perhaps, in this,
as in many circumstances of public admi-
ni.nration and private life, it may be that
\i 6 \vt

J 5(5 THE OLD JRISH BARONET.

we have only a choice of difficulties, or
that, to use the popular phrase, all the
alternative left us is, '* of two evils, to
choose the least." And here I am ob-
liged to advance an opinion, which will
be found botli new and strange, and, to
many, highly unpopular, but which 1 am
persuaded will, on a strict examination, be
found to be the truth. The practice of
boxing is nothing, so little as a proof of
national courage; it offers, on the con-
trary, as far as it goes, a most plausible
argument in favour of national cowardice.
Let us enquire a moment who are the
characters that adopt most willingly this
means of retaliation and offence. It is
not, in any class of society, the man of
high spirited and generous feelings, who
mixes urbanity with dignity in his man-
ners, and respects the independance of his
neighbour as he cherisl^^s his own ; he
studiously avoids a cause of quarrel, as
well from ' sentiment as py^i^/ence, hecnuse '
he judges, from the intensity of his own

feelings

THE OLD IRISH BAKONET. 157

feelings in certain cases, the |)iobable
consequences of the resentment of an-
other. It is the cowardly grov^elling cliar
racter — it is tlie ** brolher hlackgiwrd,'*'
M'ho, availing himself of his muscular
force or agility, tliinks he possesses the
means of insulting, at a small expence,
the man of decency and respectability.
lie knows well that persons wlio hay-e to
make their daily appearance in decent
5Kiciety, (h'ead .the carrying about them
the marks of a vulgar aftray. But wliat
jisk does the low boxer run, or what in-
conveniences hias he to sustain ? Life and
limb are to him out of the question. A
trifling fracture is a casualty that very
rarely occurs from these rencounters ; a
swelled tace, or a black eye, this fellow
knov/s well are the extent of his j)erils ;
and, far from being a disgraceful stigma,
the exhibition of a bruised face among
his brethren at the pot-house, or in the
^v'ork-shop, is considered a distinction of
honour, and almost envied as a token of

triumph.

5

155 THE OLD II^ISI! EARONET,

triinr.pb. Heaven forbid tliat sueh dTs--
positions as these should compose the ele-
ments of British courage. It is constant*
ly remarked in al! countries, that the
' oldest soldiers are the most indisposed ti>
personal quarrels. The veteran warrior,
accustomed to real and serious danger,
dreads and detests these pusillaniinous
rencounters ; and, to the disgrace of the
advocates of this practice^ aiiiong whom
it is painful to observe the names of one
or two men of sense, who outrage hu-
manity so far as tQ palliate, or rather
justify, the disgraceful scenes of animal
"warfare, tli€ toleration of which is a stig.-
nia on English police, be it observed, that
the Highland soklier, or the French gre-
nadieo-, men who mount coolly up the
breach, and go to battle as they go to their
breakfast, would turn pale and faint at
the sight of the buil-dog, cut limb by
limb away from his hold, and become
cowards at the cock-pit or the bear- bait*.
* By'their fruits we shall know them, ' as we

are

THE OLD IRISH RARONEr. 159

are told ; whatever practice or opinion,
when urged to its tull force, becomes ab-
surd, inn)olitic, and unjust, and whose
natural and invariable tendency is to-
wards such extremes, is essentially wrong,
and ought not in any degree to be made
use of. Far be it fVoni me to make the
apology of duelling, but if we are to to-
lerate evil for tlie sake of good, let us at
least adopt that one wiiich is adequate to
the better end we have in view.'*

^Ir. Sylvester was silent. ]\Jr. New-
burgh seemed considering whether there
was any thing pointed at him in that
gentleman's discourse, which could war-
rant his taking it as an insult ; but fortu-
nately Mr. Newbuio;h did not perfectly
comprehend the whole of it ; therefore the
result of his meditations was, that it was
a general inference, not a personal offence,
and he should lick the shepherd. Doctor
Clayfield leaned in his chair nonclialantly
picking his teeth, while he satirically re-
marked, *' tiiat those who favoured duel-
ing

160 THE OLD IRISH BARONET;

ling were generally expert at hitting a
mark/' Mr. Sylvester's face rlisplayed a
transient flush, but he made no re])ly ;
but the Baronet, perceiving his colour
, heightened, and fearing any warmth of
expression, knowing as he did that liis
vouna' friend was no favouiitc of tlie di-
vine's, very prudently took up the sub-
ject,' by saying, *' i should like to hear
your opinion more fully in rc'spect to
duelling, IMr. Sylvester, for if you are
inclined to defend it, 1 am confident it
must be from no trilling reason.'' Syl-
vester bowed to this compliment paid to
his judgment by Sir Thomas in l:;e face
of his opponent; but it was not as the
tacit acknowledgement of conscious su-
periority, but as a judicious discernment
of the Baronel'smotive, and ids profound
respect to all his patron "s wishes.

*' Yet," continued Sir Thomas, '* it is
not at tliis moment that I call on Mr.
Sylvester to deliver his sentiuicnts on the
subject, for, it I mi'stake not, he and Mr.

New-

THTE OLD IRISH BARONET. I6t

Newbui'o'h arc eno-ao-cd to ride with Ellen
this cveninii: over to JMilibank Place, and
it would he a poor apology to make two
fair ladies, to say they were forgotten m
a hostile discussion over the bottle."

Mr. Sylvester had not forgot it, and it
]\ad only escaped M\\ Newburgh'a mind
Mhile he pursued his ideal victory in the
boxing-match with the shepherd, which,
as 'a scientific ** bruiser," he had no d4)ub£
of obtaining. The two gentlemen with-
drew to attend Miss O C^allaghan, and
the Baronet and Doctor Lla\lield were
left to discuss matters by themselves.

CHAP.

132 THE OLD IRISH BAROXET.

CHAP. VIII,

** Thou friend to him that knous no friend beside ,
Ti;at falls, like saddest moonlight on the hill
And distant grove, when the wide world is still."

BoWLESr -^

The Baronet, we need not say, was, after
a very few interviews, become acquainted
v/ith the real character of Mr. -Newburgh,
and did not hesitate to avow his disap-
pointment to Ellen, acknowledging, that
much as he had at heart to assure to her
the abode of her ancestors, and seats of
lier youth, it was only und^r a hope that
the man with whom alone she might have-
shared the possession of them, would
prove to be what rumour (ever favourable

to

TiTE OLD IRISH BARONET. 163

to the high born and affluent)" had pro-,
noiinccd him, the man of sense as well
as fashion, and a g-entlemau in manners
as in descent. Convinced as he was of
the fallacy of these hopes, Sir Thomas
gave up without a pang the wishes he had
but yesterday so fondly cherished, and
saw, without reluctance, the disposition
the latter manifested of taking his depar-
ture after a visit of a few weeks. Even
had Mr. Newburgh been all the Baronet's
sanguine expectations had pictured him,
he evinced no inclination to avail himself
of the golden opportunity paternal ambi-
tion, or rather paternal affection, threw
in his way. No glances of incipient pre-
possession, none of those assiduities in
which the heart takes the lead, that,
warmed by return, might have ripened
into love, ever escaped hi in. liis de-
portment towards Ellen was merely such
as a professed man of fashion shews to a
pretty girl he is under the necessity to
respect. In short, in accepting the in-
vitation

T64 THE OLD IRISH BAR0K2T.

vitation of Sir Thonias O'Callaghan, l^^Ir.
Newburgh intcncled simply to kiii liiDe,
and va: ~ .lis lounge. Or. if a gleam of
7'atio?7aiit'y xluctmed bis )adiict, it waij
in tbe gratification of a 'iositv natural
enoiigb; to s'lrvey tbe ■ .: ails of a pro-
perty in wbiclibebad so ^ -it an interest,
and of wbicb be migbt, 1. - tbe anticipa-
tion of a few vea^s, cons'd r bimself al*-
ready tbe ov/ner. Tbis c^inosity once-
satisfied, tbe spring meeting again occu-
pied all bis waking and sleeping drean.s,
atid be testified bis impatience to depart.
Tbe B ironet did not carry bis politeness
so far .IS to repeat^ tor fornVs sake, his in-
vitation to accompany tlicm;. for be
dreaded lest- that fickle versatility in
wbicb -tbe men of fashion pride them-
selves, should by chance influence Mr.
^ Newbui^b to accept of it. Tbe latter,
, indeed, unsolicited, assured tbe Baronet,
that when tbe racing circuit was over,
he would probably pay bis respects to^
bim at Paris, for be had long intended.

t£)

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 16'i

to pass tlie carnival (which, by his ac
count, was in August*) at Venice ; this he
could do, and be back in time forthe open-
ing of the sliooting seasen. He was very
inquisitive to know from Mr. Sylvester,
who he understood had travelled, whether
the roads in France were good for driving
four in band — how much the Swiss moun-
tains were higher than Barham Downs—
and which, with other questions of tiie
«ame nature, bespoke a kind of vague
meditation of a journey, and to all of
which Mr. Sylvester answered obligingly,
and without a smile.

Sir Thomas was now become doubly
anxious to set out himself, and determin-
ed to hasten rather than c\ei\^v the period
of his departure. The sliades of Princely
Hall, he was aware, vrere a retreat no
longer favourable to the repose of his be-
loved daughter. The uninterrupted in-
tercourse of Ellen with her tutor, could
only tend to fan and nourish a passion,
that it was evident had already taken
, • deeper

* Begins Twelfth Day, and ends Shrove Tuesday.

166 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

deeper root in her bosorit than she was
herself conscious of; and the example
of Mr Newburgh had sufficiently shown
how little probability there was, that any
'stranger should be attired towards those
groves, who would make a different im-
jpression on her heart, or serve any other
purpose than to heighten by contrast the
amiable qualities of the only man pro-
priety forbade her thinking of as a hus-
band. In the wide world .of the Conti-
nent, surrounded by novelty, seeing and
being seen, she might on the contrary at-
tract the attention of many whose alli-
ance would be unexceptionably ^eligible ;
at the same time that she would, in the
society of her father and her instructor,
be gradually weaned from her ardent at-
tachment to the scenes of her youth,
which a few years must, in the course of
nature, divide her from for ever, when,
to tear herself away abruptly from the
mansion of her ancestors, bereft by death
of her beloved father, and denied the so-
ciety

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 167

ciety and counsels of Mr. Sylvester,
which from that moment propriety and
'decorum would f()r!)id her to enjoy, the
health and spirits of Ellen would hardly
be able to sustain her against so many
severe trials. Indeed her peace, and the
company of j\Ir. Sylvester, required the
alternative. Sir Thomas was aware, that
the sequestered residence of her tutor,
along with those circumstances, was in-
compatible with his daughter's future re-
pose ; and to dismiss from hia\ a man,
his esteem for whom was ripened into tlje
warmest attachment, whose society was
become indispensable to his comforts, and
whose welfare v.as, after his iidored
daughter, the (object of all others, the
Baronet had most at heart, was alike im-
possible ; he therefore set immediately
about making the necessary arrangements
for his departure. Those, as Sir Tho-
mas's concerns were muhifarious, and his
bounty of unknown extent and ramiiica-
tion, were objects of some labour ; and

Mr,

IBS THE OLD IRISH EARONET,

Mr. Sylvester endeared himself yet more
to the Baronet, by the manner in which
he aided him in the execution of them.
Among other benevolent dispositions,
( Sir Thomas ordered that an addition of
fifty pounds a-year should be made du-
Tino* his absence to tli^'income of Father
Dunlavie. This the good priest was, of
necessity, made acquainted with. But
he reniained ignorant, that by an exten-
sion of kindness, the Baronet had • pro-
vided; ill form of codicil to his will, that
the same largess should be concerted into
an annuity for life, in case his patron did
not live to return from his journey. It
need not be doubted that he made a com-
petent provision for the future indepen-
dence of Mr. Sylvester, by bequeathing
in his favour an estate of near four hun-
dred a-year, puicliascd from the econon^iy
•of his annual income, which the Baronet
always 'contrived should, notwithstand-
ing the hospitality of his establishment,
and his active and boundless benevolence,

THE OLD IRKSK BASONlcr. ^169

by much exceed his expenditure. ^ By
this means he was enabled to provide for
the peiinanency of his charitable Insti-
tutions, a.nd to reward the tried fidelity
and attachment of his humbler friends,
without trenching on the splendid terri*
torial patrimony of his F.llen.

So far as regarded Mv Sylvester, this
bequest was a mere precautionary mea-
sure. His views for that gentleman's ad-
vantage, if life and health permitted him
to talise them, were of a much more ex-
tensive nature. Sir Thomas had recom-
mended to, him the church ; and if Mr.
•Sylvester could have reconciled himself
to orders, there is no doubt the Baronet,
through his immediate patronage, and
t-liat under his influence, would Imve
opened him an easy way to ecclesiastical
opulence and honours. ]>nt 'motives of
delicacy, some of. wlvich, though not all,
our readers will have already divined,
raised in -the way an insurmouiHable
barrier. This delicacy gained for once

VOL. I. 1 the

fTO THE OT,D IRISH BARONET.

the good opinion, or at least the good
^vonl, of Doctor Cla} field, whom no dis-
qualifying motivesprevented from accept-
ing the future, as he had the past, presen-
tations -in tlie gift of the Baronet ; and he
condescended to say, that this reluctance
was laLidabl^, and if it liad not savoured
more of sceptic pride than of religious
inodcsty, would have done the young
man credit.

SirThomashad his political views forMr,
S}1 vest cr likewise. "But the union, which
had recently taken place, had w-eakened, or
at least dislocated his parliamentary inte-
rest. And while, on the one hand, Sylvester
had requested his separation from the
Baronet might not be even suggested du-
ring their residence on the Continent,
tl;e latter wished, before he set the seal
on his conclusions respecting his prO"
teg^'s establishment, to endeavour to see
some light through the clouds that hung
over Mr. Sylvester's birth and connex-
ions, whkh that gentleman never seemed

desirous

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 171

desirous of bringing to view, but which
the Baronet hdd reason to think their
journey would enable him to effect

A few days before Mr. NewburglTs
exj)ccted departure from the Hall, he one
morning rfl)ruptly entered an apartment
Aviiere sat tiie Baronet M'ith his dauo-hter

o

and i\Jtr. Sylvester. Neddy looked rather
disconcerted, though not actually v^exed.

" What the devil long-winded, intri-
cate sort of a story, is this old Grey-beard
has be.en canting me with !" exclaimed
lie on entering. *' Curse me if 1 can
make head or tail of it ; only that it looks
confoiitfdedly as if somebody wanted to
tiirow Ned out of the sweepstakes."

" 1 did not understand. you had any
horses on the Curragh this meeting, Mr.
Newburgh,"said Sir'lhomas.

'' Rot the Curragh," he replred,
** know notliing about it, but that it's
devilish nice running ground. Galloped
your horse, Antelope, round the course
the day before yesterday, in five minutes
I 2 sixteen

K'^ TIIE OLD iniSH BAHONET.

sixteen seconds. No, no, that's not tire
Ijusiness, nothing of the turf, or slioulcl
be a match for the blacklegs; but con-
found me if I think 1 could have any
chance in a race with a ghost.'*

*' A ghost]" repeated Ellen, laughing.
'^ I dare say, papa, Connolly has been
relating one of his old stories to Mr,
Newburgh."

*'You have nicked it, Miss O'Calla-

ghan," cried he. *' A d d out of the

-^vay, curious kind of olio he made of it
toQ ; and nailed me so fast with his argu-
ment, that I could not cut and run far
tlie soul of me, though I wished him and
his story at the devil a thousand times^
from the bottom of my heart."

..^* i should be seriously displeased with
Connolly," said Sir Thomas, gravely,
Vxlid he say any thing to offend you,
Mr. Newburgh ; and, if you please, Til
ring for him to enquire into it."

'^ My dear papa," cried Ellen, laying
her hand on the Baronet's Mm to prevent

his

THE OLD- IRISH BARONET, 175

ftis Intention, *' pray don't interrogate
the poor fellow, for I am certain he meant
110 offence, and Mr. Newbiirgh may have
mistaken the good old man, as it is not;
every stranger can rightly comprehend
bis orthoepy, which we all know is notr
very correct."

*' T am inclined to- think with Miss
O'Callaghan," said Mr. Sylvester; ''for
though Connolly may not be very fortu*
nate in making himself clearly understood
by persons imacqiiainted with his man-
ner, yet I believe he won Id not delibe-
rately give offence to his equals, let> alone
his superiors.'*

*' You are all green-horns/' exclaimed-
Newburgh, laughing aloud at themi
*' It's a devilish comical kind of a story
he has been relatin-g ; not bujt if it were
to be realized, should be damnably dis*-
tanced — thrown out to all intents and
purposes."

'' Pray do inform us what ic was, -Mr.

Newburgh," said Ellen, ** for you ha\T5

J S- raised

174 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

raised my curiosity, notwithstanding I
susj3ect a little what it may be."

'* No doubt you do,'' answered be,
with more wit than gallantry, '* for all
'the fiatives hereabouts have it as pat iu
their mouths as potatoes. By the bye,
ought to remember that name myself toe-
Had to come down with twelve hundred
to Lord Neverout last October meeting,
by Colonel Deeply 's . PotSo's distanc-
ing my Fizgig — a hollow thing, to pay
two thousand for the loan of the needful.
Should otd Gravity's story have any truth
in it, zounds and the devil, what a taking
some of the sons of Israel would be m i—
hot and cold fits — worse, than an inter-
mitting fever."

*' Well, but the story, IMr. New-
burgh," said Ellen, who could tind no
.entertainment in technical terms, which
vere beyond her learning.

** O aye, the storj'," resumed he.
'* Why, 1 met this genius of yours, old
Doleful, awhile ago, just near a tottering

fabric

\
TIIE OLD IRISH BARONET, 1/5^

fiibric in the wood, that appeared to ine
as tlie reposing place of the O'Calhghans
since the days of Adam, where he shewed
niea parcel of dried bones, and gave such
di pedigree of tiieir owners and their heirs,
that, upon my soul, I wished his quietly
feid by their side, for fear of any conju-
ring business to cut nie off the entail ;
and, between ourselves, curse me if I
don't think the felloAV looks like a con-
jurer."

** I thought what it was/' said Ellens
who couW not refrain from laughing out,
and in which the Baronet joined her; nor
tould Mr. Sylvester restrain a smile.

** Aye, "exclaimed Sir Thomas, ** Con-,
tiolly has been giving you< the J^istory of
Lord Duncarty and the beautiful Spanish
iady ; that's a favourite hobby of his^
and the poor fellow has allowed it to take
such hold of his imagination, that he
actually believes there is more fiian old
womens prattle in the story. But never
niind it, Mr. Newburgh," continued he,,
I 4 " it

17 & THE OLD IKISH BARONET.

** it must be something more substanHa!
than a ghost or 3.J}iiri/ tale, to cut you
out from the inheritance of Princely Hall.
Nor, I assure you, is there but one ob^
j'ect near my heart, that would make me
wish to defer your possession of it.**

*' All in good time, Baronet,'' replied
Newburgh. ** Shall only give the Jews
a sweating by delay.'*

*' I don't understand," said Sylvester,
drily, '* how any of the tribe can have a
demand on Princely Hall."

*' You're what we call a flat, Svlves^
ter," cried Newburgh, gaily, *' and know
notliiiig of the matter Haven't I said
I raided the needful? Where should I
get it but from some of those accommo-
dating and useful gents?- As many of
Ned Newburgh's bonds in tiieir hands,
redeemable at double original value wheii
lie comtcs into possession of the gotdai
mines lu^rey as would make paper kites
for the charity-schoolboys. Not a shil-
ling, has Neddy but what the Israelites

come

THE OLD IRiSn EARONEX. 177

eon^ clown with — out at the elbows con-
foiincleclly — the Newhnrgli property gone
long ago — but that.'s life, that's the dash
in our world."

" ^Vhat !" exclaimed the Baronet, '* is
it tiie custom- \n uotu' world for a man of
fasiiion to beggaj' iiimself> in order to exr
t£Lnd his consequence?"
,,/' Just so," answered Nevvburglr.
*■' Never, dashes in high stile , till he owes
more than he's able to paj^ Then can
run on without danger of running outi"

*' And what becomes of his poor crc^
ditors ?" asked Sir Thomas*. toiiiojii

*' Oh^ that's obsolete, Bayonet," re-
j]^lied the man of dash. *' Never en-
(jiiire into those kind of things.. When
we see a new clKiiiot, a set of -hoFseS; or
any thing brought out by our friends, we
ask, who's the suffej'cr ? Sliould a trades-
man be importunate, why, order. the- ser-
vant to bid him call to-inonoAv^, and he
sliu-ll be told when to come again,"

15, *' But^:

178 THE OLD IRISH BAKONEt.

" But there are resources for h\tf\,'' re-
marked Sir Thomas.

" Yes, Baronet, but onCe out of twenty
times when they are, or can be resorted
to," answered Newburgh. *' An estate
in reversion, suppose like Princely Hall,
110 danger of duns tlien, while creditors
reckon on the double. A peer, or air
M. P. perhaps, safe's the worrl there t^o
*— shall get into paHiantent, and catcli
me who can then."

The Baronet screwed up his mouth, pre-
paratory to one of his long whistles, but
recollecting it might be construed inio
an insult, he onFy shook his head,

*' I am sorry to undei-stand there are
such precedents in- high life," said he;
** and, I confess, doubly concerned to
hear them tolerated and practrised by the
heir apparent of Princely Hall."

*' Yes, but so it is amongst us,'' re-
plied Newburgh, without being in any
manner abashed ; '- and better be out of

the

TffE OTD IRISir BARDNET. 17^

tfie world, you know, than out of the
fashion. "Now, my creditors, to be sure,
are at present cap in hand to me — thanks
to Princely Mall for that. Will bleed me
like leeches, though, by and bye lor it —
turn a bout's fair play — one or two years-
rev^enue will make all smooth to beo-in
afresh — tlie.old woods will settle that
business in the stroke of a hammer.
Those there beieeh trees in the park — shall
want their room — my best whip is hang-
ing in one of them* l!iie fates forbid the
Duncarty hoax ahouUL get: wind at the
other side of the herrino- broe^k."

*' I believe, whatever the Ivgend may
^ be,*' said Sir Thomas, *' the certainty of
your right, Mr. Newburgh, is indisput-
able ; tlierefore, on that head you may
make yourself perfectly easy. Only my
advice to you would be,, that whenever
you do become the j)Ossessor of Prmcely
lldll, \ou would conciliate, as far as pos-
sible, the esteem of your dependants
there. Th.e Irish are a warm, benevolent,
I 6 hos-

ISO THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

hospitable, race — the latter pro ^'--erbia.Uy—T
steadfast in their affections, o-encrouSiia
their friendships, and grateful for every act
of kindness. But they are tenacious of
, their rights ; passionate, when insulted^
and proud to a fault. The master, wlio
treats tlieu:! with generosity, will be served
with faithfulness. The arrogant superior,
who lords it over them, will feel their re-
sentment. Indifference is not their cha-
racteristic; tliey are enthusiastic in. the
extreme, and either love with fervour or
hate with violence. You, as I may say,
a stranger amongst them, being an Eng-
lislmian, should be paiticularly desirous
To cultivate their esteem.; and whether
your inclination leads you to follow in
tlie footsteps of your predecessors here,
or your more gay pursnits.keep you three-
fuiirths of your life an. absentee, still let
it appear that you wish the welfare pf its
tenantry, and fear not that your interest^
will be attended, to.''

'* I shall live a month or two of each

vear

Ti'lli OLD IRISH EAltOiN-ET. IS I

y^ap ill it, by all means,*' said Newburgljy
'* chiriiig the racing or shooting season*
]\£ight as well be bnriccl ahve in one of
the (1- d Irish bogs, as think of exist-
ing out of England. But for the 72a tivcs
here; — Oh, wiih all my. heart, let thein
enjoVj the-ipselves ; provided. I have|)lenty
of the needful, cane not what they do.
Fron) old Grey-beard: the; conjurer, to the
sti^ble-boy, shall keep possession, if they
pl|.',ase it,. Baronet ;..,b.tft .would not be
cpnipelLed to.'t'^^e/^/^qaji^aiigst. them, not
for all the old oaks on the premises. Not
]the thing, Sir Thomas — nonum of fashion
spends his aiioney in Ireland who can
avo!<l it. A ftw old conscientious quizzes,
that have scraped their thousands here,
may peihaps think it laudable so to do;
but then they are past , the age of enjoy-
ing life, and liave no relish for its dash-
ing ogrcmens. Yet, if now and then a
'man of fashion is seen awhile in this
country, it is because interest leads him
in opposition to inclination, while he

wishes

182 THE OLD IRISH BAilONET.

Mislies-the island of Saints swallowed up
in its own Litfey !"

'* The remark is but too true," said
the Baronet, '' and disgraceful' to the
absentees of Ireland is the reflection.
No wonder if the country be poor, when
those who ought to support shamefully
desert it, and, instead of encouraging its
prosperity, lavish, in foreign countries
and pleasures, the gold they have no ob-
jection tx> draw from iheir own. Had I
the misfortune to be an autocrate, my
first edict should go to punis^h the volun-
tary aliens of Ireland, by a triple tax oa
their fortunes-. Those persons of higher
rank, wbo made no scruple to draw from
thence their, resources, while they think
the country unworthy of their personal
residence, such, be their rank what it
might, should be taught a lesson of. at?-
tachment to home, and if not grateful
from inclination^ should become })atriotic
from interest. If the country wiience a
man derives his honours, and his fortunes,

be

THE OLD 4iRISR BAKONET. 183

be not SriiiTiciently attractive to attain his
continual residence, he is doLibly culpable
M'ho wilfully inipoverislies it, by forming
a constant and sjdendid establishment oa
a foreign strand, and from stile, affecta-
tion, or misanthropic perversity of tasle>
studiously cOiitrrves that not one shilling
of his bounty or expenditure shall ever
find its way back to tlie source whence
iiis means are poured. If this, as a heavy
national calamity, should inflame the
mind's of the people, is it to be wondered
at ? It is said of the Irish, they are poor
aiul proud. Poor, they may well be, while
iheir labours are principally devoted to
enrich \x?i^ noble aliens — I shall not say
its countryiiiefi, they are undeserving the
name. Proud its patriotic subjects should
be, for thicy can boast of excellencies of
h^d and heart, which few nations can
surpass,"

Mr. Newburgh's cast was not ai^'umen-
tive, therefore he did not feel himself dis-
please^ to be saved a reply, by a servant's
3 an-

l;8fl THE OLD IRIS'; BARONET^

amiounGing visitors, and the interruption
was, of course, a period to all particular
conversation..

In a few days, from tills, tile man of
dash took his leave of Princely Ilall, and
sc^T.ed no. way dissatisfied at quitting its
formalities; though we may very readily
believe he'd, have endured many of these.
disagremblts without repugnance, to be
secured in immediate possession; but as
,that could not he while its prt^sent owner
lived, we shall only suppose he wished,
in his heart, the good Baronet a S})eedy
passage to the land of lus forefathers,
^wliile he departed in high spirits to pur-
"sue his fortunes on the turf, until that
welcome, moment should. arrive, to realize
his golden- prospects, beyond, the po^sibl-
lirv of chance to destrov*

ClIAK

VBR OLT> IRISH BARONET. 185

CHAP. IX.

*' And yet he soat'd beyond the spells that bind
The s|pw perception of the. vulgar mind."

Mrs. RoBiNSOK.

'* And so, Sir Thomas," said Doctor
Clayfield to the Baronet, *^ you are gO"
ing to traverse a part of Europe. You
will have an opportunity to contrast the
manners, laws, and religion, of the re-
gions you will pass through with those you
leave behind; and I do not, doubt, Sir,-
your piety, loyalty, and patriotism, will
return home fortified by t!)ecoiiij>arisc>n.
The only advantage I conceive ^a]^, En-
glishman can reap from visiting foreign
parts, is to learu to cherish, on his return,

with

186 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

with redoubled ardour, those institutions
that are dear to him, and to strengthen
the consciousness he ought to set out
with, of the infinite inferiority, in every
possible respect, of every other land to
Britain, the mother of arts, of religion,
morals, patriotism, science, virtue, kide-
pendance, disinterestedness, benevolence,
philanthropy, urbanity, a«d every religi-
ous, social, and private virtue/'

*' I am sensible," replietl the Baronet,
** that an honest mind's first leaning will
always be towards the country that gave
hipj. birth. Unless it be soured, and its

social feelings distorted by some personal'
suffering, some deep mortification, that
associates with the chagrins of the heart,
the country in which they arose, a man
will be disj)osed, from inclination as well
as duty, to find fresh reasons for a pre-
ference qf his native land. But if his
wishes run before his judgment, and he
sets out with a predisposition to censure
and despise, he had better remain where

he

TlIK OLD IRISH BARONET. 187

he is. As long as he stays at home, he
may entrench himself within the bulwark
of patriotic idolatry, and need not live in
dread, lest any stubborn matter of fact,
or ocular demonstration, should obtrude
itself, to shake the robust solidity of his
faith. Characters like these are apt to
identify their own intellectual respecta-
bilitv, with the truth of their notions, so
intimately, that you cannot call their
opinions in question without insulting
their understanding. There are two
classes of men," continued the Baronet,
** who ought never to leave their own
firesides, they that have not the wish,
and they who have not the sense, to be
candid. For myself, I shall leave every
thing personal behind me ; to speak more
correct Iv, I have little ,of*that nature to
Jcavc. 'J'he union which has recently
been brought about, in depriving me of
a seat in parliament 1 had hlled for forty
years, and my ancestors for three centu-
ries before, leaves me at leisure to visit

other

lis

THE OLD IRISH BAHONET.

other races of men, and observe the in-
fluence of other modes of government on
national character. I esteem and ap-
prove the constitution of my own coun-
try, as far as I understand it that is ; but,
methinks, if it were less complicated, it
woijd stand a chance of being more ad-
mired, by being better understood."

** That is much to be doubted," inter-
rupted the Doctor. ** The spirit of pry-
ing analysis that now stalks abroad,
searching to spy into all things, nay,
even into the hidden things of God," is,
I fear, equally pernicious in politics as iu
religion. If men were wise, they would
content themselves, as the illustrious
Burke advises, *' to understand it accord^
ing to th'eir measure, and to venerate
where they are not able to understand*."

*' That is," said the blunt but benevo-
lent Millbank, *' according to their in-
terest. The imagination is very fertile in.

perr

* Burke's Appeal, &o. p. '2&Sr

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 190

perceiving beauties where it feds advan-
taoc."

The Doctor, without seeming to no-
tice this renuirk, continued — '* The high
and venerable antiquity of a constitution,,
which has preserved itself pure through a
long succession of ages, is surely a sutn-
cient title to tlie cKhniration of a people,
better able to enjoj- and feel its blessings,
than to sound the depth and wisdom of
its institutions. Since the reign of
John, wdience it may be said to bear
date, have we not seen it resist the lapse
of years and the attacks of innovation —
preserve for centmies the rights of those
it governed, amidst the shock of contend-
ing dynasties — stand immoveabl-e as a
rock in the storms of religious revolution,
and, finally, interweaving its two branches
of church and state, form the happy shade
under whicii we repose, '* hx latebrse
dulces."

** I understan<l vou, Doctor — these
charming glebes," said Sylvester with a
smile. JUe feared the Doctor's frowns as

little

190 THE OLD IRISH BARONBT. ♦

Httle as be respected his candour ; and
taking, rather than asking, the ** parole,'^
he continued — '* It is often unfortunate
for a good cause, that its defence is taken
up at the MTong end. When we hear a
string of pleas inade use of, . which,
though plausible, bear their own fallacy
on the front of them, we take for granted
tliere are no better in reserve, and be-
come indisposed to listen to the more va-
lid ones that are injudiciously kept be-
hind. The perpetual struggles that have
been maintained between the sovereign
and the people, from the earliest ages till
the glorious epoch of the Revolution,
convince me, that the people of England,
before the last period, never had a consti-
tution properly so called. The rights
and privileges they, however, imperfectly
now enjoy, are no other than the succes-
sive spoils of despotism, thd fruits of a
warfare continually maintained against
the tyranny of their rulers, in which they
were disputed and won by the nation step
by step. It b true, the gradual progress

of

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 191

of municipal emancipation spread with
the (lawn of letters, at an early age, from
Italy to France, thence to Germany, and,
lastly, to Enoland* ; but the boasted
charter obtained by force from John, re-
garded in nowise the mass of the people ;
it was a mere compact between the crowii
and the nobles, f whose power and inde-
pendance were strengthened at the ex-^
pence of ihe royal autiiority, and, in that
sense, it was rather injurious than favour-
able to the cause of civil liberty. Magna
"C'harta left the mass of the people in the
same abject servitude in which it found
them. It -did not even profess to ame-
>lJorate their lot. Magna ' Gharta was
signed in 1216, and under Edward
III. one hundred and sixty one years
after, vilianage still subsisted in the
royal, episcopal, an dv baronial manors.

Civi-

* Corporation charters were first granted by Henry H, and
emancipation from bondage was otiained by a residence ol a
year and a day in a chartered borough, by a law passed under

t 5^ Aragoa Chaita, Art* ljm>^

19^ THE OLD IRISH BARONET,

Civilization had not yet, In the fifteenth
century, nuide such progress as entirely
to abolish slavery. But within a feu-
years after tlie accession of the Tudors,
shives were heard of no more. We find
statutes to prevent an}- person who had
not twenty shillings (equal to ten pounds
•modern money) per year of real property,
from breeding up Ids children to any other
occupation than that of husbandry. . And
no one who had been employed in such
work till after the age of twelve years,
was permitted to turn to any other voca*
lion. The condition of the slave in Eng-
land was as wretched as the despot who
owned him thought proper to make it.
His «oods were his master's, and v/hat-
ever injuries he might sustain, he had no
pouer to sue that master in any court of
justice. Even so lately as the year lo^6\
a bill for the total abolition of servitude
we find was rejected by the House of
Lprds*. The grotesque pomp of civic

honours;

• Sec Public Acts , Rymer's Fjedcra j "P/ynne. *c.

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 193

honours, now no more than the sliado\v'
of a shade, which has long ceased to com-
mand tlie reverence, even of the vulgar,
is yet deserving of more attention than t!ie
smile with which they are contemplated,
They merit the same veneration as the
curfew, the manorial suit and service, and
other relics of feudal tyranny,, for they
form a standing libel against our vain-
glorious boast of aboriginal freedom. The
name of liveryman was once that of free-
man, and countryman, or alien, v/as
synonimous to slave. Borough privileges
were only advantages taken of the avarice^
or needy rapacity of the monarch, who,
to satisfy his immediate wants, sold to the
vassal inhabitants of certain places, char-
ters and immunities that cost him no-
thing, and thus lifted them up, like so-
litary islands rising out of the black weaves
of general slavery. At a period like the
present, when to respire the air of Bri-
tain is to participate in the liberty of
Britons, it will perhaps be thought these
VOL. I. K muni-

194 TrtE OLD IRISH BARONfiT.

municipal distinctions ought to be sup*
pressed. They were selfish in their first
institution, and at this day they are at
least useless. The Commons of England,
that is, the knights, delegates of tlie free-
holders, or minor nobility, and the repre-
sentatives of free burghs and cities, form-
ed a house of parliament under Henry
III, but till a late era they only pretend-
ed to the right of petition. Previous to
the reign of Henry VI, they did not dare
to arrogate any other authority than that
of interposing their advice*. In 1404?
they had not the right of deciding on the
merit of their own elections. We find
that year the House of Commons was ob-
liged to petition the Crown to direct the
Lords to examine into a false return for
Rutland, and punish the offenders. The
elections during the Lancastrian dynasty
in 1459, had scarcely the semblance of
decency. The members were pointed out

by

* Blackstone,

TJIE OLD IRISH BARONET. 195

by riie king, in letters under the privy
seal^ and these the sheriffs returned. For
this outrao-eous insult on the constitution^
an act of indemnity was obtained.

'' Do we trace^ at a more recent period^
a respect for the sacred prerogatives of
parliament, and the chartered rig!Us of
the subject, in the, speeches and procla-
mations of the infamous Stuarts, or in
their conduct towards tlie members of the
two legislative bodies of the realm? Mem-
bers of parliament were committed to the
common jails of the kingdom, and distin-
guished citizens pressed for sohliers, for
refusing to com[)ly with the arbitrary and
unsanctioned demands for money of those
monarclis. The power, of imprisonment,
witliout cause or trial, was formally in-
sisted upon in 1DC8> as indispensable to
ihiC sovereignty. The next ^ear nine
members were taken into custod}^^ for
liaving prejpared a remonstrance against
the king's conduct in ordering the seiz-
j.ire of goods for refusing to pay the il-
7; 9. legal

196 THE OLD IRISH BAROKET.

legal duties of tonnage and poundage.
Four of these were- committed to the
Tower, for refusing to be answerable
for what they did or said in parha-
ment, and prosecuted (as well as the five
others) in the Star Chamber. They were
refused the benefit of habeas corpus; and
Sir John Elliot, with others, perished in
their dungeons. While the highest au-
thority of the r^alm, the coui^ of parlia-
ment, met with so little deference from
the tyrant of the day, it is not to be sup-
posed that the juries who decided on the
fates of their fellow-citizens, were more
independant. To state the innumerable
violations of faith, justice, and public
rio-ht, the abroo-ation of everv charter and
institution on which the nation could
found its claims to freedom, during these
ignominious reigns, would be to repeat
the whole pages of British annals. '* His-
tory,'* says an eminent writer, whose name
escapes me, ** is philosophy teaching by
examples.'* He might have said, with

equal

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 197

equal propriety, ^' history is philosopliy
talking the hospitals, or studying in a
niad-liQuse."

*' In reading our history, up to tlie
period of the Revohition at least, and the
biography of the personages wiio succes-
sively, during the same period, exhibited
to the woild their talents and their me?n-
ness, their courage and their ^crimes, one
is led to ask, where is that boasted con-
stitution, always invoked, and always set
aside, the moment it stood in the way of
the despot's will, or that of the favourite
of-theday? and what is become of that
integrity, sincerity and humanity, we are
so often told is the distinguishing glory
of this nation, amidst such a tissue of ca-
Umitv and crime, such a series of treach-
ery and despotism, where to be disgraced
was to perish, where the courtier so often
read in the mornino; smile of the tvrant
at whose feet he fawned, the sentence of
his evening condemnation?

'* Tiie elements that compose the pre-
K 3 sent

198 TftE OLD IRISH BARONET,

sent edifice of British freedom, are excel-
lent. The form under Avhich they are
Gombined, is, as far as theory goes, ad-
mirable ; and public spirit, with which
the principles they are founded on are
maintained inviolate^ is the surest guarant
of their permanency. But let us not
evoke the bugbear of antiquity to oppose
their practical amelioration — I say ameli*
oration, for reform is not the word. The
present degree of perfection to which the
structure of public weal has attained, is
the result of successive improvements,,
and the farther we trace back our steps
(and reform has no other meaning), the
nearer we come to those times when bar-
barism and servitude went hand in hand."
Men's impatience under uneasiness,
displays itself in a variety of ways. Doc-
tor Clayfield^ unaccustomed to be replied
to^ much less foiled in an argunient,
quitted the bench v,here the party were
seated, and, assuming a smile he meant
di]cfCit(l be mistaken for contempt, but

which

THE OLD IRISH BARONET, 199

which was in fact tlie sardonic expression
of overweening s^H, stalked liis lank
figure in silence down one of the alleys,
his flapped hat oversliadowing his greea
spectacles, and affected to examine the
flowers as he passctl along-

k4 chap.

200 THE OLD I/iJSH BAROKST.

CHAP. X.

♦* Cohlsience, that of all physic -works the last."

The arrangements preparatory to Sir
Thomas O'Callaghan's long absence from
Princely Hall being now completed, and
t]>e appointed time for bis de[jarture near-
ly arrived, he became every hour more
impatient for the day. Ellen, with an
anxiety equal to that her father had
evinced in the settlement of his own im-
mediate concerns, attended to those of
the liitle dependants of her bounty, Siie
visited all the cottages round, looked into
their wants^ administered to their com-
forts,

THE OLD IRISH EAKONET. 201

forts, and, with tearful eyes, bade adieu
to their inhabitants — '* Alas !" thought
she, as she slowly retraced her steps to
the Hall through the wood, '* shall I
ever i^visit these dear abodes — shall I be
permitted to behold once more these
grateful people, to contribute to their
happiness along with my own, and to see
my loved father extend his blessings to
the joyous objects of his benevolence i^
Ah ! dear, dear shades of my childhood i"
exclaimed she aloud, '* I carry the re-
membrance of you in my heart; and
though it should be Heaven's will I re-
turn to you no more, yet shall your loved
recollection remain for ever there. Days
of past happiness, it is now I look back
on you with regret.**

Ellen had thrown herself on a rustic
bench at tlie foot of a venerable oak, her
head resting on her arms, and her tears
bedewing the seat on v/hich she reclined ;
while wrapt in the labyrinth of melan-
choly, into which her busy anxious
K 5 thjoughts

20-§> THE OLD IRfSH HARONET.

thoughts had roamed, she heard not the*
approach of footsteps, till some person
tenderly laying one hand on- her shoulder,
and with the other raising her head —
*' Ellen, dearest Ell— Miss O'Callaghan,'*
and her glistening eyes encountered the
confused looks of Mr. Sylvester.

*^Good Heaven! Miss O'Callaghan,"
said he, assisting her to rise, ** why these
sif^ns of sorrow? Can vour heart be so
early acqnainte^l with aftlictions r"

'' Ah,, Mr. Sylvester," replied she^
sighing, '^ have not you penetration siif-
lident to discover the cause? I have
been to visit my poor fi iends in'*the ham^
lets, and perhaps,'' added she, while her
tears ilov/cd afresh, *' perhaps for tlie
last ilme. Is it, then, wonderful I should
i)e deeply, poignantly affected, at receiv-
ing their adieus ? From my first dawn
of reason to this moment, these good
creatures have testified for vac the strong-
est affect ion. Their attachment has been
the happiness of my life; and can L qurt

them^.

THE OLD IRISH BARONET,

20a

them, probably for ever, without feeling,
every sentiment of affection and sensibi-?
lily awakened by the separation ?'*

*^ Were you to be unconcerned at such
a parting, Miss O'Gallaghan," said Syl-
vester, ** I confess your character wouUl
appear to me in a new light. Yet, par^
don me if I say, that too much sensibility-
degenerates into weakness of mind, and
seems to express a want of reliance on a
liigher Power. We should not anticipate
ills that may perhaps never reach us, or,
if we do, it should only be to prepare our^
selves for supporting them. You antici-
pate yoi\js> father's dissolution, Miss OiCai-
laghan ; whenever it takes place, I ami
well assured it will be a severe trial to
your mind; yet, even that, irreparable
misfortune, it will be your duty to bear
with pious resignation. The indulgence
of immoderate grief, implies a repining
at Heaven's high behest, that must be
displeasing to it. How much more
bUuiicable, tlierefore, is the anticipatioji
K. 6 o£

204 THE OLD IRISH BAHONET.

of affliction, which evinces a distrust of
its benevolence. Your father, my dear
Miss O'Callaghan, is not immortal; soon-
er or later he must change thrs transitory
(life, for that better one to wliich his
virtues are the passport. Yet is his life
far from precarious ; neither his age, his
constitution, or his health, bespeak the
appearance of its speedy termination ; and
however your filial apprehensions may in-
cline you to foresee danger, believe me,
there are not the smallest grounds for
your fears. Nay, my dear young friend,"
continued he, in a more sprightly tone,
to turn her thoughts from their present
channel, ^' so far from thi^nking Sir
Thomas O'Callaghan's life in any man-
ner '})recarious, it is not improbable he
may survive the youthful heir apparent
of Princely Hall, even though that heir
should have the good fortune to meet a
2iatural death, v;hich, to td\ the truth, I
fear is not much to be expected, as I
should not wonder to hear if one or other

of

THE OLD IRISH B/VRONET. 205

of bis exploits terminated with some fatal
disaster."

'* You don't know how happy you
make me, Mr. Sylvester/' said Ellen,
>viping her eyes, and assuming her na-
tural placidity, '' by your sanguine opi-
nion of my dear father's life; for 1 am
convinced, that did you think otherwise,
you Avould not speak with so nuich con-
fi^Jence, though delicacy might oblige
you to soften the idea of approaching
danger, and I will no mare indulge this
weakness. Yet, though it were even the
will of Heaven to take my dear loved pa-
rent, and my return to these esteemed
objects round me was to be purchased by
giving my hand to Mr. Newburgh, I
should far sooner bid them an eternal
farewell than become his wife/'

'* I believe, " answered S}lvester, '* liad
Mr. Newburgh been found to answer the
Baronet's expectations, it would have
been an event highly grateful to him;
and had Mr. Newburglfs character and

man-

zOiy THE OLD ir;i>:i baronet.

manners been such as to entitle him to
Miss O'Callaghan's good opinion, / like-
wise think it had been a most happy cir-
cumstance for all parties."
' *Mndeed!" cried Ellen. '• Do you
really think so, Mr. Sylvester?'' and she
looked at him with more penetration than
she was herself aware of *' And would
i/ou also have approved of my marriage
with Air. Newburgh ?"

*' Me, Miss 0CLdla2;han !" be replied^
'Mt had been very presumptuous, indeed,
in me, to have given my opinion on such
a sul)ject, where your father was so much
better able, and so much better qualiiied,
to direct you in so important a concern."

*^ I drd not want to know ho v.- far it
had been presuming, '^ said Ellen, pettish-
ly; '* I merely askell you a (|uestion of
myself, which had no reference to wdiat
my fatlier might tliink."

'* Then/' answered Sylvester, ** had
]\Ir. Newburgh's education and manners
been such as his, rank. and property gave

a right.

THE OLD IRISH BARONET, 207

aTiglit to expect, 1 certainl^^ think — that
is, I most indubitably slioulcl approve,,
and rejoice in" any event that contributed
to the hap[)iness of Sir Thomas O'Calla-
g'han and his daughter."

'' I make no doubt of that, Mr. Syl-
vester," said Ellen, with a heavy sigh,
Avhich she could not suppress; '^ but had
Mr. Newburgh been tli€ most finished
gentleman in existence, though he migiit
have had more of my respect, he never
should have possessed more of my lavour
than he does at this Rioment. "

'* Were I inclined to cross-examine
you, Miss O-Cailaghan," ansvvered Syl*-
Tester, with an affecte<l smile, '* your
words offer a fair opportunity ; for it sel-
dom happens that an- elegant man, who
endeavours to please, passes- unnoticed by
a- female of tlie same description."

** But suppose," said Ellen, who, guid-
ed by a sentiment indescribable to her-
seU", found j)leasure in pursuing a subject
so iuterV)Oven with her own innocent at-
tachment,

90S THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

tachment, ^^ suppose slie were already
prepossessed in favour of another?'*

**Then/' he replied, *^ all other meri
must be indifferent to her.'*
I ** I shall never marry any one," said
-Ellen,

'* Make no rash resolutions, " cried Mr.
Sylvester, adopting still a gayer tone,
** for such are often er broke than kept.
It is only for desponding old maids to
protest against matrimony, vv'hen they
find no one disposed to commiserate
them.'*

** And what -is to be said of old
bachelors, Mr. Sylvester ?'* asked Ellen.

V* O," replied he, *' they are undeserv-
ing any comment, for the fault of their
being so rests entirely with themselves."

** Perhaps, Mr. Sylvester," resumed
Ellen, ** I may chance to get a peep at
your divinity wiiile on our travels, as I
should presume she is not of this coun-
try. Will you promise to let me see her,
should we come in the way of U?'*

'' It

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. ^09

** It is very seldom," cried Sylvester,
playfully, shaking bis bead, *' that one
handsome woman acknowledges beauty
in another, and as I have a high opinion
of my own discernment in this respect,
I shoultl not like to have it called in
question ; therefore. Miss O'Callaghan,
ril not promise to point her out to you."

** Then she is super laiiveli/ lovely, I
suppose?" said Ellen, and rather sarcasti-
cally too.

*' She is, indeed !'* answered Sylvester,
with more gravity, but peculiar energy.
** And what's more, Miss O'Callaghan,
{.he is superlatively amiable.'*

The tears trembled in Ellen's blight
eyes, though she endeavoured to assume
an air of unconcern ; yet so anxious was
she on the subject, that she had not re-
solution to discODlinue,it.

*' I wonder," she resumed, stooping to
pluck a flower, which [)ossil)ly shflr did not
at the moment recognize from a cabbage
stalk, ^' 1 wonder, Mr. Sylvester, you

can

210 THE OLD IRISH BARONEt;

can have eiulured so lon^ a separation
from this charming woman ; you have
been two years a resident at the Hall."

** I once g^ve you to understand, IVUss
'O'CaUaghan," replied Sylvester, very se-
riously, •* that I had no hop^s respecting
that person, the which I now repeat — I
never had, nor ever can. Yet, were I
master of the world, I would lay it at her
feet; but I am not so lost to reason or
sense, as to subject myself to her con-
tempt by an open avowal of these senti-
ments. Her happiness is dearer to me
than my own ; her fame and respectabi-
lity the first wish of a heart eternally de-
voted to her. Her friendship is all 1 dare
aspire to, for she is placed in a situation
too exalted for me to look up to.'*

*' And how do you know," said Ellen,
" that she does not feel as \varmly inte-
rested for you as you do for her ?'*

'' Good God !" ejaculated Sylvester,.
*' have you so contemptible an opinioa
of me, IVIiss O'CuUaghan, as to conceive

I should

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 21 f

I should even adniit such an idea for a
moment? No, did I imagine myself fa-
voured with a single thought beyond
what friendsliip inspires, I should fl}^ to
the verge of the earth, rather than come
in her presence. Happy, supremely hap-
py, as such a conviction would make me
under other circumstances, those which
exist compel me to look on it as the great-
est misfortune that could befal me; and
if it were possible she regarded me in a
more favourable light, never, never may
I be acquainted with it, for then, indeed,
I should be miserable."

" You are the first lover, I believe,"
said Ellen, '' that was ever so conscienti-
ous. But were she a princess (and I can
suppose her of no higher rank), I don't
see ho A' she would disgrace herself by a
virtuous affection for a deserving object.
But I perceive the subject is painful to
you, Mr. Sylvester; yet, ere we drop it,
T would say one thing first — if fortune
•ilone is the obstacle to your happiness, be

candid.

512 THE OLD IRISH BAItONET.

candid, and tell me; yousliail notrepent
of your confidence."

*^ Were I to say it was not an obstacle,
my kind, considerate Miss O'Caliaghan,'^
replied he, ^' I should offend against tl}e
truth ; hut there are others of equal mag-
nitude, over which a mystery hangs, that
may never be developed. You'll say,
neither are my words very comprehen-
sible, but I allude to myself in them."

** To those," said Ellen, ^' who con-
sider fortune and rank as the sole appen-
dages to human felicity, they are certain-
ly necessary considerations, and as it may
be the case in this instance, I have only
to regret that it is not in my power to
give i/ou both. Yet, if one can com-
pensate for the other, I tliink I may
venture to say, my fatlier would not,
for the sake of a few thousamls, see you
miserable for life — and when I am mis-
tress of my fortune, which will be when
I am twenty-one, I promise to divide it
with you^ if it can tend to ensure your

hap-

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 213

happiness ; for as I certainly never will
change my condition, 1 must be very ex-
travagant indeevl, if three thousand a year
cannot afford me all the elegancies of life
that I shall wish for."

*' Dear, generous, noble Ellen," ex-
claimed Sylvester, rapturously kissing her
hand, *' why is it that you so pre-emi-
nently shine superior to your sex, and
with an understanding beyond most wo-
men of your years, display that sweet
simplicity of nature, which renders you
irresistible."

*' Spare your compliments to me, IMr.
Sylvester,'* said Ellen, ** they can only
belong to 07}t woman, and Ellen O'Calla-
ghan cannot be that one. But consider
of my proposal ; if it meets your appro-
bation, have no reluctance to inform me ;
ni) word is my bond."

Ellen, with apparent cheerfulness, kiss-
ed her hand to Mr. Sylvester, as she turn-
ed up a different alley leading to the
house, and immediately proceeded to her

own
5

^14 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

own apartment. Poor Ellen— alas I she
knew not all the secret winding of her
own innocent heart. She fancied she had
been interrogating Mr. Sylvester through
, a motive totally independant of self , while,
in fact, it was only self t\mt predominated
throughout; and, now convinced that he
was fondly and faithfully attached to
some unknown lady, she was even un-
knowingly selfish in her offers to him of
fortune, as she experienced the sole hap-
piness she could derive from his com-
munication, by thinking,, that should he
accept her proposal, it would ensure his
future felicity, and to her he would con-
sider himself indebted for it. Ellen wept,
without knowing well to what particular
subject to attribate her tears. Her father
and Princely Hall certain 1}^ engrossed
part of them, but Mr. Sylvester, and the
unknown divinifT/, were not without their
share. Poor Ellen, again ! Poor Ellen>
indeed! Her heart was irrevocably de-
voted to its first attachment ; and not all

the

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 215

the philosophy of argument, in favour iof
right and wrong, could weaken the more
.powerful system which had taken root
within. At dinner she complained of a
slight head-ache — she meant heart-ache,
we imagine, and attributed it to having
walked too long in the heat — it was ra-
ther a coohday, in the month of April ;
but the Baronet, more penetrating,
though not absolutely right in his con-
jecture, set it doM-n to her visit through
the hamlet, and tenderly sought to divert
her mind from dwelling too much upon
its recollection. When the servants had
withdrawn, all but old Connolly, who
stopped to arrange something of the side-
board, there being noperson at table but
the immediate family, namely. Sir Tho-
mas, Ellen, and Air. Sylvester, the Ba-
ronet said — '' I had a visit to-day from
Father Dunlavie, while you were abroad,
Ellen, my love, and it was productive of
some very extraordinary intelligence."
Connolly made a rattle \\'ith some of

the

1216 THE OLD IRISH EARONEr.

the plate behind Sir Thomas, who turned
round his head— " Oh ! Connolly, I say.'^
** Yur Honour," replied the butler, ad-
vancing.
' ** The Duncarty legend is come to
light at last," continued Sir Thomas.
** The murder is out."

** Then the child was murthered in
downrite arnast. Sir," exclaimed the old
man.

"Pshal you nincompoop," cried the
Baronet; *^ no one was murdered that I»
know of; but tlie story of the bones is
found out. Has the servants' bell rang
fordinneryet? because, if it has, you may
go. Ill tell you about it some other
time, as I know it will be a quietus to
your poor mind."

** Now, yur Honour, if you plase,'*
answered the anxious servant ; ** I'd ra-
ther be after hearing all about the story,
nor ate the finest dinner that ivir was
seed at Princely Hall."

*'Well, so you sjiall, Connolly," re-
plied

THE OlyD iRlSIt BARONIitc 21'^

plied the considerate master ; ^' but ni'': '
and keep it to yourself.'*

Sir Thomas leaned over the table, and
addressed himself to his daughter and
Sylvester, while Connolly, all attention, .
leaned on the back of the Baronet's
chair.

*' I told you,'* proceeded he, *' ! had
a visit this morning from Father Dun-
lavie, vv^ho requested a private audience
with me, and we went togetlier into my
study, where I shall give you the good
priest's communication in his own v/ords.
* Some days ago, Sir Thomas,' he began,
' i was sent for to administer the rites
of our church to a poor man vdio was
dying, and desired to see me immediately.
I dare say you knew him, Baronet, one
Maurice Kennedy; v/ho lived on your
estate here. I made no delay,' continued
Father Dunlavie, * but set out instantly,
and found the poor creature very near
bis last moments indeed."

** I knosv^'d Maurice Kinnidy viry will,

yur Honour," cried Connolly, interrupt-

VOL. I. L ing

^18 THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

lug: Sir Thomas. ^' He lived at the in4
of the stone v/all that runs thorough the
middle corner of the round pasture field,
ovir forninst the little owld bridge; you
may rimimber yur Honour had it ihrowii'
clown twice afore it was built up, bekays
you found the workmin had gone a taste
too fsr on one of yur tinant's land ; and
jou may ricillict, Sir Thomas, how the
man big'd and prayed of yur Honour not
to do it, but you sid" —

** I don't want to hear a dissertation
on the old wall, " cried the Baronet, '* nar
^A^hat I said or did, only beg, that if you
wish to hear the story, you"ll listen to it
in silence. ^ 1 found,* continued Father
Dunlavie, ' that, though the poor man
-svas rapidly advancing to his last mo-
ments, he was able to speak and be un-
derstood, and as it was necessary I should
hear his confession, and for which he
seemed very anxious, I dismissed every
person from the room ; but, without
breaking the subject, by describing how
much he was affected during its recital, I

shall

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. 219

siiall pursue the principal points of this
man's communications, Baronet, in his
own words. — ' I cannot quit this world in
peace, ' saitl Maurice, ' or rest in my gra\'e,
till I have disclosed to your Reverence a
p^icce of guilt that weighs heavy on my
soul. It is many years back, my good
Father, since I first heard something of
the deaths of Lord and Lady Duncarty,
together with the wonderful disaj>pear-'
aiice of their young son ; and that it was
supposed her Ladyship, in consequence
of this ciiild^s strange loss, and from some
disturbances that were about that time ia
Ireland, together with tii€ absence of her
Lord, who was in the wars abroad, had
been, for awhile previous to her decease,
unsettled in her reason, though uot
absolutely mad ; and fearing some evil
design on the Hall, with the cunning
so natural to a deranged mind, had secre-
ted some of the family jewels, but never
made any dicrcovery of them, and died
])efore her Lord's return ; for it was only
"vhen he did come home, and missed many
L Js: valua-

^2<^ TttE OLD IRISrt ^AlRONET,

valuables, besides papers of consequi^ncc
to himself, that there was any suspicion
of what her Ladyship had don'tf; but
though every place about the house was
'strictly searched, both by my Lord's
orderS; and the gentleman who succeed-
ed him before Sir Thomas 0"Callaghan
came into possession, nothing of them
could ever be found. Long after my
Lord's death, there were first some whis-
pers spread of him and his Lady's spirits
being seen about the place, but particu-
larly the old chapel, where they Vrere
buried, and where my Lady, in her me-
lancholy fits of madness^ used constantly
to go; and it was then conjectured that
the family jewels were hid somewhere in
the vaults of it, but no person had cou-
rage to make the search, and the story
gradually died away."

" Width submission, yur Honour,"
cried the incorrigible butler, again inter-
rupting the Baronet, '* there is just such
another story, consarning of Dononore
Hole, in the county of Wexford, where

there

TffB OLD IRISH BARONET. ggl

there is ^trezure hmd down in the water,,
like a grate pan of goold, that's guarded
by a tirrible big cat, and a greyhound.
And sure they're seen, as plain as any
thing in the world, down in the bo-ttonv
of the spring well, of a fine cleer sun-
sliiny day. Til just till yur Honour alU
about it.*'

'* Damn you and Dononore Hole to-
gether," exclaimed the Baronet. *' Can't'
you keep your foolish tongue quiet for once^
m your life? Always^ always intrudhig
that cursed nonsense of your's. I v/onder
you're not tired of hearing yourself re-
peat such trash;**

"I'm dun, yur Honour," cried Con*
noliy ; ** only that it's as true as i am a~
living sinner — God pardon inC; and we're
all sinners, to be sure. But yoa see, Sir
ThomaS; the lord o'the manor — I don't
know his name, had the' water draned
out oft in and oftin, to cum to tlie crock
o'goold, but the cat and the dog tore like
lions, and they was all afeard to tuch it;
so there it's to stay till the troe and law-
.. . l3 . fuL

229 THE OLD IRISFI BAHONET.

fill heir cums to take it away \nflth him,
y.\st for all thewoilcl; as one may say, lilce
P incely Hall ; for I'm sartin that Mr.
Newburg is no more the heir of this place
'nor I am, for he's like nothing at all at
all that ivir belonged to it."

** He said you were a conjurer, sure
enough," replied Sir Thomas ; *' and
should any thing of tlie kind occur here-
after, I think he'll have good reason for
dubbing you one. But, pray, keep si-
lence, if you can, Mr. Connolly, and give
me leave to conclude my story, now that
I presuHieyour's is ended.'*

This serious rebuke had at once the de-
sired effect, and old Connolly resumed
his station at tlie cliair, without offering
another word. The Baronet resumed his
subject as before.

.* My father did not die,' continued
Slaurice, * till I was myself advanced in
3'ears, and was married, and had a grow-
ing family. He left me all he could, but
I found it very little to support us all,
notwithstanding I worked hard at my
' labour.

THE OLD IRISH SAIRONBT. SgS'-

Babour. Well, your Reverence; soTneliow
er other, it at last came into my head!
about the treasure I bad heard of, that
was supposed to be buried in the vault of
Lord and Lady Duncarty ; and I thought,
if I could pluck up courage to search for
ft, may be I might be successful, and my
fortune was made ; for, did I find it, I
would go away from this part of the
world, and set myself up as a grazier iiic
some distant part, where I would' not be
known at all. So, after a great while
thinking about the business, I at last ven*
tured to the old' chapel one night by my-
self, and brought a dark lanthorn, with a
spade aud pick-ax, to turn up the clay,
and to work 1 went. Some of the old
brick-work was very much decayed, so
that I had little trouble in removing that;
but just as I got to a parcel of broken
Goffins, and had thrown out some old
bones, 1 was so terribly frightened by the
braying of an ass, that T did not well*
know at the moment what it was, till, ia
tny terror to get away, I came full plump
L 4 against

224 ruE OLD raiSH baronet*

against the 'beast, and had nearly broke
my head by a fall I got over him, and I
V as so terrified, that I did not go near
the place again for a great while. How-
'ever, when my fright had pretty well worn
off, I made another attempt, and got
further and further into the vault, for it
^ "was SQ choaked up with stones and rub-
bish, that I could not advance mucb at
a time, and I did not dare go often to
work, for fear of being discovered, so
that it was only about two or three years
ago I could finish my task. It was just
then that the report of the bones rising
became so prevalent about the place, whea
your Rct.erence used so often to bury
them, and by that means gave me double
trouble, for I had always to undo what
you had done ; but at last you gave up
all further attempts to keep them down^
and heartily glad I was of it; and as the
people were now become so much alarm-
ed, I had no fears of being interrupted.
To work, therefore, I went once more,
and^ just at the foot of the ,vault, came

to

THS OLD IRISH BARONET, 225

to a large broad ^ flag-stone^ which I be-
lieve was id former times the entrance of
the vault, but <vas now covered over with
clay and broken bricks^ that I had great
difficulty in clearing away^ but when I.
did, I removed the flag without any
trouble, for a child could have turned it^
and there^ your Reverence, in a. co-rner
behind it, and covered with earth and
stones, I found this box.' He pulled a.
small square box from under the bolster/
proceeded Father Dunlavie, / and gave it .
into my hands; 'take it/ continued Mau-
rice, "^ I have never enjoyed a moment's
rest since it has-been in my possession^
nor never had courage, after all my trou-
ble, to examine into it ; for I found that
it v.as very strongly* secured, and my con^
science would not let me break it open^;
All I have to request is, that your Reve-
rence will give it to Sir Thomas O'Calla-
ghan, for he, 1 suppose, has tlie best and^
only right to it, and to tell his hionour
that I a-m heartily sorry for having been
so wicked as to disturb the ashes of ilie-
L 5 dead.

S26 THE OLD IRISH EARCNET.

dead (though may be soirjC good iria}*-
come to him from it), and also for be-
ing the cause of so much alarm to the
poor people about the place; but! hope
,God wilt forgive me^ and that your Re-
verence will pray for my poor soul.* The
man died yesterday/ went on Father
Dunlavie^ ' and\, agreeable to his desire,
I give into your hands^ Sir Thomas, his
sacrilegious theft."

*' Aye/' cried Connolly^ v/ith a sigh,
and shaking his grey locks, " poor crater,
he dide yesterday, sure enough ; the Lord
have marcy on him, and rist his poor
sowl> am in. Sum of yur Honour's sar«
vants intind going to his wake ta-night,
bekays as he was a neighbour, to keen
ovir him/*

*' Not with my consent, should they
go for that purpose/' replied the Baronet,
'* as the practice of howling over the
dead, from the moment the breath is out
till they are put in the clay, meets, not my
-: probation. I think it a shameful cus-
, ' enever I've chanced to hear

THE OLD IRISH BARONET. ^27

it, I imagined myself near a kennel of
yelling hounds, instead of a decent and
solemn assembly of mourners."

'•' Why, but sure yur Honour knows it is
only dacent and rite to cry ovir our poor
fellow-craters," answered Connolly, ''^whia
there's the Banshee itsilf, that follows all
grate families to keen their diths. I ri-
mimber whin my Lady dide, God rist her
sowl, that it was hard all about the place
for three uites afore; and if any thing
was to happin yur Honour, the Lord pra-
sarve you, or ]\liss Ellen there, why,
the Banshee wud cry just tlie same way
for you. And you see. Sir Thomas^ that
makes it plain hov/ we shud do the same
thing."

'' Very possible," replied the Baronet.
*"■ But as I am rather dull at comprehend-
ing incojnpreheiislble matters, I shall de-
cline any further exposition of your pre-
sent argument. And," continued he,
addressing his other auditors, '^ as I have
finished Father Dunlavie's communica-
tion^

2 '38 THE OLD ISISII BARONET.

tion^ I shall now produce the box^ to be
examined by the present company."

>So saying he <withdrev7 for a few mi-
nutes to his study^ and returned with the
(box in his hand^ which, placing on the
table, every person drew round with avi-
dity to examine it, except Connolly, who
kept rather in the background. It was
an ebony casket, of about a foot and a.
half square, and seemingly of Indian
workmanship, but quite faded and despoil-
ed of its original beauty; yet the hinges
and clasps being of gold, the solidity was
perfectly preserved. Sir Thomas, with-
out any ceremony, was going to break it^
open, but Ellen requested the lock, which
was also gold, mjght be tried iii'st with
some'of her small keys, and run to fetch
them. ' After a few trials, one was found
to turn in it^ and the box flew open with
a spring. A heap of rumpled papers lay.
en the top, v/hich appeared as if hastily
and carelessly thrown in, and which were
pereeived to be very closely written on;,
3 but

rnE OLD IHISH BAKONEr. ^"29

but the cliaracters much faded and
effaced. Beneath was a leaden top,
tightly fitted, and close pressed down,
\vhich, being removed, some scaled parch-
ments were discovered, and under those
a number of little boxes, ail filled with
the niost valuable jewels and costly orna-
ments.

" A treasure, indeed I" exclaimed the
Baronet, as he examined into them. "But
the question is, to w hom these wonderfully
discovered effects belong?"

" Not to yur Honour, I hope," cried
Connolly; '' for I'm mortally sartin ther's
nothing good bilongin to thim, and I
wudn't tuch im for the whole world.
The Lord prisarve us all I They beyn't
good. Sir Thomas, I know they beyn't."

*' And why not ?*' asked the Baronet ;
" or what are your fears of them, Con-
nolly ?"

/' Fears, yur Honour," repeated the
butler, " why they was only lain there
to timpt the poor man that stole im ;
and I shudn't woadir at all at all, if he

was.

^5^ THE OLD IRISH BARONET.

was no more did nor niysilf, God be
twixt me and harim f but carried oiF,
body and bones, by the good people, just
like the yiing heir/'

'' Whew ! at it again. Con nolty," cried'
Sir Thomas. '' But I see its in vain at-
tempting to correct habitual folly— there
is no tcaching_old dogs new tricks."

"^ But, papa," said Ellen, '' I am of
Connolly's opinion, that those things do-
not by right belong to you. You. see
this parchment, as well as I can decypher
the letters, bears the name of " Lord
Duncarty"' on it."

'' Then do you keep the jewels in right
of him, Ellen," said the Baronet, faceti-
ously, '' for I don't think there i& any per-
son will dispute your claim. For, as I
imagine, that by right of succession they
belong to me, I give them to you ; there-
fore is there nothing further to be dis-
puted about them."

'' And the papers, papa,'* said she,
^' what's to be done with those?"

y Let Sylvester and you make them oufe

to-

Tnr, OLD IRISH BAKONKT. 231

together/' he answered, " and try what
new discoveries they'll produce; and,"
added he, smiling, " Connolly may assist
you with liis commentaries, when there is
any hiatus in the text of them." -

" Axing yur pardon, Sir Thomas," cried
he, " I wudn't be after reed in a wurd in
im, or laying my hand upon im, for all
yur Hi)nour's whole istatc, for I'm sure
the ghosts of Lord and Lady Duncarty
will be about the liouse now iviry nitc.
And, thank God, we are all a-going out
of it, and that's more nor ivir 1 sid in my
life afore, to wish mysilf away iVom
Princely Hall."

'* Well, and tliough they sliould ])ay it
a visit," said Sir Thomas, laugiiing, *' why
should you Iiave any apprehensions of
yourselt, Connolly? It is not your cur-
tains they'll shake, but mine, so you may
sleep peaceably in that respect. (Jo now
and get your dinner, but n)ind and don't
blab, or I shall be seriously angry."

Connolly withdrew* and we'll suppose

Lot

232 THE OLD IRISH BAKONET.

not without repeating an av6 or two for
his preservation.

*' Here are two miniatures^ papa/* cried
Ellen, " one of a beautiful woman. I
w^onder was it Lady Duncarty ? Th^
other, a gentleman in uniform — bless
me, I think there is a strong resem-
blance'' — Ellen stopt and blushed.

"Why/* cried the Baronet, \yith a
smile, " do you think you ever saw the
original, Ellen, that you have so sooa
found out the likeness?"

** How could I^ papa?" she answered,
** for, as I presume it to be the picture
of Lord Duncarty, he was dead, you
know, before I was born."

** Aye, or your mother either," said *
Sir Thomas,, taking the miniature from
her, the other being in the hands of Mr^
Sylvester, who very attentively regarded
it.

** You seem to view that picture with
peculiar attention, Mr. Sj'lvester," said
Ellen. ** Pray has it any resemblance

to"—

THE OLD IRISlt BARONET. S35

to'* — again she paused, and again Ellen
blushed deeper than before.

** A strikino; one," he answered, with a
lieavysigh— " a striking resemblance to a
person I have now in my mind's eye.'*

The Baronet paid no Jess attention to
that one which he held of the gentle-
man

** Very strange this !** he cried. ^* Let
me look at that picture you hold, Sylves-
ter, if yon please."

Sylvester presented it to him, and Sir
Thomas viewed both together. The fe^
male was dressed in a Spanish costume,
^vhicli evidently expressed her to be the
beautiful Spanish lady ; aud transccndent-
ly beautiful the picture was, for, being so
closely confined from the air, and of ex-
quisite performance, both paintings re-
tained a gr^at deal of their original co-
lour.

^* This is most extraordinary V went
c^n the Baronet. '* Most wonderful, in-
deed!'*
' '' What, papa?" ask^d Ellen.

•' No-

SJ4 THE OLD IRISIl" BARONET,

^* Nothing at present, my love," he
replied, replacing the miniatures in their
repository; ** but sometime, when you
have leisure on our journey, do you and
'Mr. Sylvester look over this parchment
and papers— the former is very carefully
sealed up, I perceive, but the latter ap-
pears to have been very negligently
thrown in, and I believe will not be found
easy to decypher. The characters don't
appear to me either French or Italian, and
I'm confident they're not English ,*^ y^t,
as we have no time for making dis-
coveries, let us keep what may come from
this packet to entertain us hereafter."

The casket was, therefore, replaced as
before, and Ellen, being now its posses*
sor, was careful to deposit it in a place
where it would be conveniently at hand
during her journey. A few days from
this its long wished-for commencement
took place; and Ellen, for the first time,
took a long farewell of Princely Hall, we
shall not say in what complexion of
mind, as it may be better judged than

ex-

THE OLD IRISH CA^ON^T. 235

ifexpressecl, Ijut certainly much more se*
rene, since the encouraging hopes re-
specting lier father, tlian she had here-
tofoie been. She had ah'eady takeli a
very affectionate leave of her friend
Emily iMillbank, with whom slie^promis-
ed to liold a correspondence, and detail
to her every thing worthy af note on her
travels. The Baronet, who never s utter-
ed an opportunity to escape where he
could render i^ervice, gave into the hands
of Father Dunlavie the lease of a snu^
farm, with an acqui-ttal of rent during the
state<l period of his absence, and a sum of
money, to be employed in immediate
necessities, for the widow and family of
MauriGe Kennedy; and Ellen left her
orders that the children should be ad-
mitted into her school for their educa-
tion.

Sir Tliomas, aware that the day of his
departure being known, would collect all
the inhabitants of the neighbourhood at
the gates, set otf the evening before with
Ellen aud Mr, Sylvester, in the new lan^

daulet,

236 THE OLD IFdSII BARONET,

daulet, as if taking a drive out, for he
could not bear to encounter the grateful
ndieus of his people, and thought it the
better way to avoid them entirely. Ait
' additional pair of horses for the carriage,
and two servants, had preceded them a
couple of miles, and at an early hour
they arrived in safety in Dublin, where
the following day they were joined by old
Connolly, the Baronet's valet, Mr. Syl-
vester's servant, and Miss O'Callaghan's
woman, which, with those that had ac*
companied them to town, were all the
retinue Sir Thomas took with him. After
stopping a f^w days, to shew Ellen what-
ever was deserving her attention in the
metropolis of Ireland, they embarked for
Holyhead, meaning from thence to con-
tinue their route by easy stages to Lon-
don,

J-.Ni) OF VOL. I,

JLane, Darling, and Co. tendcnhall-Stre^l,

K^^^ki^

^nStvofu^^

3 0112 041766202