Chapter 1

by William Makepeace Thackeray

　　MY PEDIGREE AND FAMILY--UNDERGO THE INFLUENCE OF THE TENDER PASSION.Since the days of Adam, there has been hardly a mischief done inthis world but a woman has been at the bottom of it. Ever since ourswas a family (and that must be very near Adam's time,--so old,noble, and illustrious are the Barrys, as everybody knows) womenhave played a mighty part with the destinies of our race.I presume that there is no gentleman in Europe that has not heard ofthe house of Barry of Barryogue, of the kingdom of Ireland, thanwhich a more famous name is not to be found in Gwillim or D'Hozier;and though, as a man of the world, I have learned to despiseheartily the claims of some pretenders to high birth who have nomore genealogy than the lacquey who cleans my boots, and though Ilaugh to utter scorn the boasting of many of my countrymen, who areall for descending from kings of Ireland, and talk of a domain nobigger than would feed a pig as if it were a principality; yet truthcompels me to assert that my family was the noblest of the island,and, perhaps, of the universal world; while their possessions, nowinsignificant and torn from us by war, by treachery, by the loss oftime, by ancestral extravagance, by adhesion to the old faith andmonarch, were formerly prodigious, and embraced many counties, at atime when Ireland was vastly more prosperous than now. I wouldassume the Irish crown over my coat-of-arms, but that there are somany silly pretenders to that distinction who bear it and render itcommon.Who knows, but for the fault of a woman, I might have been wearingit now? You start with incredulity. I say, why not? Had there been agallant chief to lead my countrymen, instead or puling knaves whobent the knee to King Richard II., they might have been freemen; hadthere been a resolute leader to meet the murderous ruffian OliverCromwell, we should have shaken off the English for ever. But therewas no Barry in the field against the usurper; on the contrary, myancestor, Simon de Bary, came over with the first-named monarch, andmarried the daughter of the then King of Munster, whose sons inbattle he pitilessly slew.In Oliver's time it was too late for a chief of the name of Barry tolift up his war-cry against that of the murderous brewer. We wereprinces of the land no longer; our unhappy race had lost itspossessions a century previously, and by the most shameful treason.This I know to be the fact, for my mother has often told me thestory, and besides had worked it in a worsted pedigree which hung upin the yellow saloon at Barryville where we lived.That very estate which the Lyndons now possess in Ireland was oncethe property of my race. Rory Barry of Barryogue owned it inElizabeth's time, and half Munster beside. The Barry was always infeud with the O'Mahonys in those times; and, as it happened, acertain English colonel passed through the former's country with abody of men-at-arms, on the very day when the O'Mahonys had made aninroad upon our territories, and carried off a frightful plunder ofour flocks and herds.This young Englishman, whose name was Roger Lyndon, Linden, orLyndaine, having been most hospitably received by the Barry, andfinding him just on the point of carrying an inroad into theO'Mahonys' land, offered the aid of himself and his lances, andbehaved himself so well, as it appeared, that the O'Mahonys wereentirely overcome, all the Barrys' property restored, and with it,says the old chronicle, twice as much of the O'Mahonys' goods andcattle.It was the setting in of the winter season, and the young soldierwas pressed by the Barry not to quit his house of Barryogue, andremained there during several months, his men being quartered withBarry's own gallowglasses, man by man in the cottages round about.They conducted themselves, as is their wont, with the mostintolerable insolence towards the Irish; so much so, that fights andmurders continually ensued, and the people vowed to destroy them.The Barry's son (from whom I descend) was as hostile to the Englishas any other man on his domain; and, as they would not go whenbidden, he and his friends consulted together and determined ondestroying these English to a man.But they had let a woman into their plot, and this was the Barry'sdaughter. She was in love with the English Lyndon, and broke thewhole secret to him; and the dastardly English prevented the justmassacre of themselves by falling on the Irish, and destroyingPhaudrig Barry, my ancestor, and many hundreds of his men. The crossat Barrycross near Carrignadihioul is the spot where the odiousbutchery took place.Lyndon married the daughter of Roderick Barry, and claimed theestate which he left: and though the descendants of Phaudrig werealive, as indeed they are in my person,-[Footnote: As we have neverbeen able to find proofs of the marriage of my ancestor Phaudrigwith his wife, I make no doubt that Lyndon destroyed the contract,and murdered the priest and witnesses of the marriage.--B. L.]-onappealing to the English courts, the estate was awarded to theEnglishman, as has ever been the case where English and Irish wereconcerned.Thus, had it not been for the weakness of a woman, I should havebeen born to the possession of those very estates which afterwardscame to me by merit, as you shall hear. But to proceed with myfamily, history.My father was well known to the best circles in this kingdom, as inthat of Ireland, under the name of Roaring Harry Barry. He was bredlike many other young sons of genteel families to the profession ofthe law, being articled to a celebrated attorney of Sackville Streetin the city of Dublin; and, from his great genius and aptitude forlearning, there is no doubt he would have made an eminent figure inhis profession, had not his social qualities, love of field-sports,and extraordinary graces of manner, marked him out for a highersphere. While he was attorney's clerk he kept seven race-horses, andhunted regularly both with the Kildare and Wicklow hunts; and rodeon his grey horse Endymion that famous match against Captain Punter,which is still remembered by lovers of the sport, and of which Icaused a splendid picture to be made and hung over my dining-hallmantelpiece at Castle Lyndon. A year afterwards he had the honour ofriding that very horse Endymion before his late Majesty King GeorgeII. at New-market, and won the plate there and the attention of theaugust sovereign.Although he was only the second son of our family, my dear fathercame naturally into the estate (now miserably reduced to L400 ayear); for my grandfather's eldest son Cornelius Barry (called theChevalier Borgne, from a wound which he received in Germany)remained constant to the old religion in which our family waseducated, and not only served abroad with credit, but against HisMost Sacred Majesty George II. in the unhappy Scotch disturbances in'45. We shall hear more of the Chevalier hereafter.For the conversion of my father I have to thank my dear mother, MissBell Brady, daughter of Ulysses Brady of Castle Brady, county Kerry,Esquire and J.P. She was the most beautiful woman of her day inDublin, and universally called the Dasher there. Seeing her at theassembly, my father became passionately attached to her; but hersoul was above marrying a Papist or an attorney's clerk; and so, forthe love of her, the good old laws being then in force, my dearfather slipped into my uncle Cornelius's shoes and took the familyestate. Besides the force of my mother's bright eyes, severalpersons, and of the genteelest society too, contributed to thishappy change; and I have often heard my mother laughingly tell thestory of my father's recantation, which was solemnly pronounced atthe tavern in the company of Sir Dick Ringwood, Lord Bagwig, CaptainPunter, and two or three other young sparks of the town. RoaringHarry won 300 pieces that very night at faro, and laid the necessaryinformation the next morning against his brother; but his conversioncaused a coolness between him and my uncle Corney, who joined therebels in consequence.This great difficulty being settled, my Lord Bagwig lent my fatherhis own yacht, then lying at the Pigeon House, and the handsome BellBrady was induced to run away with him to England, although herparents were against the match, and her lovers (as I have heard hertell many thousands of times) were among the most numerous and themost wealthy in all the kingdom of Ireland. They were married at theSavoy, and my grandfather dying very soon, Harry Barry, Esquire,took possession of his paternal property and supported ourillustrious name with credit in London. He pinked the famous CountTiercelin behind Montague House, he was a member of 'White's,' and afrequenter of all the chocolate-houses; and my mother, likewise,made no small figure. At length, after his great day of triumphbefore His Sacred Majesty at Newmarket, Harry's fortune was just onthe point of being made, for the gracious monarch promised toprovide for him. But alas! he was taken in charge by anothermonarch, whose will have no delay or denial,--by Death, namely, whoseized upon my father at Chester races, leaving me a helplessorphan. Peace be to his ashes! He was not faultless, and dissipatedall our princely family property; but he was as brave a fellow asever tossed a bumper or called a main, and he drove his coach-and-six like a man of fashion.I do not know whether His gracious Majesty was much affected by thissudden demise of my father, though my mother says he shed some royaltears on the occasion. But they helped us to nothing: and all thatwas found in the house for the wife and creditors was a purse ofninety guineas, which my dear mother naturally took, with the familyplate, and my father's wardrobe and her own; and putting them intoour great coach, drove off to Holyhead, whence she took shipping forIreland. My father's body accompanied us in the finest hearse andplumes money could buy; for though the husband and wife hadquarrelled repeatedly in life, yet at my father's death his high-spirited widow forgot all her differences, gave him the grandestfuneral that had been seen for many a day, and erected a monumentover his remains (for which I subsequently paid), which declared himto be the wisest, purest, and most affectionate of men.In performing these sad duties over her deceased lord, the widowspent almost every guinea she had, and, indeed, would have spent agreat deal more, had she discharged one-third of the demands whichthe ceremonies occasioned. But the people around our old house ofBarryogue, although they did not like my father for his change offaith, yet stood by him at this moment, and were for exterminatingthe mutes sent by Mr. Plumer of London with the lamented remains.The monument and vault in the church were then, alas! all thatremained of my vast possessions; for my father had sold every stickof the property to one Notley, an attorney, and we received but acold welcome in his house--a miserable old tumble-down place it was.[Footnote: In another part of his memoir Mr. Barry will be found todescribe this mansion as one of the most splendid palaces in Europe;but this is a practice not unusual with his nation; and with respectto the Irish principality claimed by him, it is known that Mr.Barry's grandfather was an attorney and maker of his own fortune.]The splendour of the funeral did not fail to increase the widowBarry's reputation as a woman of spirit and fashion; and when shewrote to her brother Michael Brady, that worthy gentlemanimmediately rode across the country to fling himself in her arms,and to invite her in his wife's name to Castle Brady.Mick and Barry had quarrelled, as all men will, and very high wordshad passed between them during Barry's courtship of Miss Bell. Whenhe took her off, Brady swore he would never forgive Barry or Bell;but coming to London in the year '46, he fell in once more withRoaring Harry, and lived in his fine house in Clarges Street, andlost a few pieces to him at play, and broke a watchman's head or twoin his company,--all of which reminiscences endeared Bell and herson very much to the good-hearted gentleman, and he received us bothwith open arms. Mrs. Barry did not, perhaps wisely, at first makeknown to her friends what was her condition; but arriving in a hugegilt coach with enormous armorial bearings, was taken by her sister-in-law and the rest of the county for a person of considerableproperty and distinction. For a time, then, and as was right andproper, Mrs. Barry gave the law at Castle Brady. She ordered theservants to and fro, and taught them, what indeed they much wanted,a little London neatness; and 'English Redmond,' as I was called,was treated like a little lord, and had a maid and a footman tohimself; and honest Mick paid their wages,--which was much more thanhe was used to do for his own domestics,--doing all in his power tomake his sister decently comfortable under her afflictions. Mamma,in return, determined that, when her affairs were arranged, shewould make her kind brother a handsome allowance for her son'smaintenance and her own; and promised to have her handsome furniturebrought over from Clarges Street to adorn the somewhat dilapidatedrooms of Castle Brady.But it turned out that the rascally landlord seized upon every chairand table that ought by rights to have belonged to the widow. Theestate to which I was heir was in the hands of rapacious creditors;and the only means of subsistence remaining to the widow and childwas a rent-charge of L50 upon my Lord Bagwig's property, who hadmany turf-dealings with the deceased. And so my dear mother'sliberal intentions towards her brother were of course neverfulfilled.It must be confessed, very much to the discredit of Mrs. Brady ofCastle Brady, that when her sister-in-law's poverty was thus mademanifest, she forgot all the respect which she had been accustomedto pay her, instantly turned my maid and man-servant out of doors,and told Mrs. Barry that she might follow them as soon as she chose.Mrs. Mick was of a low family, and a sordid way of thinking; andafter about a couple of years (during which she had saved almost allher little income) the widow complied with Madam Brady's desire. Atthe same time, giving way to a just though prudently dissimulatedresentment, she made a vow that she would never enter the gates ofCastle Brady while the lady of the house remained alive within them.She fitted up her new abode with much economy and considerabletaste, and never, for all her poverty, abated a jot of the dignitywhich was her due and which all the neighbourhood awarded to her.How, indeed, could they refuse respect to a lady who had lived inLondon, frequented the most fashionable society there, and had beenpresented (as she solemnly declared) at Court? These advantages gaveher a right which seems to be pretty unsparingly exercised inIreland by those natives who have it,--the right of looking downwith scorn upon all persons who have not had the opportunity ofquitting the mother-country and inhabiting England for a while.Thus, whenever Madam Brady appeared abroad in a new dress, hersister-in-law would say, 'Poor creature! how can it be expected thatshe should know anything of the fashion?' And though pleased to becalled the handsome widow, as she was, Mrs. Barry was still betterpleased to be called the English widow.Mrs. Brady, for her part, was not slow to reply: she used to saythat the defunct Barry was a bankrupt and a beggar; and as for thefashionable society which he saw, he saw it from my Lord Bagwig'sside-table, whose flatterer and hanger-on he was known to be.Regarding Mrs. Barry, the lady of Castle Brady would makeinsinuations still more painful. However, why should we allude tothese charges, or rake up private scandal of a hundred years old? Itwas in the reign of George II that the above-named personages livedand quarrelled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, theyare all equal now; and do not the Sunday papers and the courts oflaw supply us every week with more novel and interesting slander?At any rate, it must be allowed that Mrs. Barry, after her husband'sdeath and her retirement, lived in such a way as to defy slander.For whereas Bell Brady had been the gayest girl in the whole countyof Wexford, with half the bachelors at her feet, and plenty ofsmiles and encouragement for every one of them, Bell Barry adopted adignified reserve that almost amounted to pomposity, and was asstarch as any Quakeress. Many a man renewed his offers to the widow,who had been smitten by the charms of the spinster; but Mrs. Barryrefused all offers of marriage, declaring that she lived now for herson only, and for the memory of her departed saint.'Saint forsooth!' said ill-natured Mrs. Brady.'Harry Barry was as big a sinner as ever was known; and 'tisnotorious that he and Bell hated each other. If she won't marry now,depend on it, the artful woman has a husband in her eye for allthat, and only waits until Lord Bagwig is a widower.'And suppose she did, what then? Was not the widow of a Barry fit tomarry with any lord of England? and was it not always said that awoman was to restore the fortunes of the Barry family? If my motherfancied that she was to be that woman, I think it was a perfectlyjustifiable notion on her part; for the Earl (my godfather) wasalways most attentive to her: I never knew how deeply this notion ofadvancing my interests in the world had taken possession of mamma'smind, until his Lordship's marriage in the year '57 with MissGoldmore, the Indian nabob's rich daughter.Meanwhile we continued to reside at Barryville, and, considering thesmallness of our income, kept up a wonderful state. Of the half-dozen families that formed the congregation at Brady's Town, therewas not a single person whose appearance was so respectable as thatof the widow, who, though she always dressed in mourning, in memoryof her deceased husband, took care that her garments should be madeso as to set off her handsome person to the greatest advantage; and,indeed, I think, spent six hours out of every day in the week incutting, trimming, and altering them to the fashion. She had thelargest of hoops and the handsomest of furbelows, and once a month(under my Lord Bagwig's cover) would come a letter from Londoncontaining the newest accounts of the fashions there. Her complexionwas so brilliant that she had no call to use rouge, as was the modein those days. No, she left red and white, she said (and hence thereader may imagine how the two ladies hated each other) to MadamBrady, whose yellow complexion no plaster could alter. In a word,she was so accomplished a beauty, that all the women in the countrytook pattern by her, and the young fellows from ten miles roundwould ride over to Castle Brady church to have the sight of her.But if (like every other woman that ever I saw or read of) she wasproud of her beauty, to do her justice she was still more proud ofher son, and has said a thousand times to me that I was thehandsomest young fellow in the world. This is a matter of taste. Aman of sixty may, however, say what he was at fourteen without muchvanity, and I must say I think there was some cause for my mother'sopinion. The good soul's pleasure was to dress me; and on Sundaysand holidays I turned out in a velvet coat with a silver-hiltedsword by my side and a gold garter at my knee, as fine as any lordin the land. My mother worked me several most splendid waistcoats,and I had plenty of lace for my ruffles, and a fresh riband to myhair, and as we walked to church on Sundays, even envious Mrs. Bradywas found to allow that there was not a prettier pair in thekingdom.Of course, too, the lady of Castle Brady used to sneer, because onthese occasions a certain Tim, who used to be called my valet,followed me and my mother to church, carrying a huge prayer-book anda cane, and dressed in the livery of one of our own fine footmenfrom Clarges Street, which, as Tim was a bandy-shanked littlefellow, did not exactly become him. But, though poor, we weregentlefolks, and not to be sneered out of these becoming appendagesto our rank; and so would march up the aisle to our pew with as muchstate and gravity as the Lord Lieutenant's lady and son might do.When there, my mother would give the responses and amens in a louddignified voice that was delightful to hear, and, besides, had afine loud voice for singing, which art she had perfected in Londonunder a fashionable teacher; and she would exercise her talent insuch a way that you would hardly hear any other voice of the littlecongregation which chose to join in the psalm. In fact, my motherhad great gifts in every way, and believed herself to be one of themost beautiful, accomplished, and meritorious persons in the world.Often and often has she talked to me and the neighbours regardingher own humility and piety, pointing them out in such a way that Iwould defy the most obstinate to disbelieve her.When we left Castle Brady we came to occupy a house in Brady's town,which mamma christened Barryville. I confess it was but a smallplace, but, indeed, we made the most of it. I have mentioned thefamily pedigree which hung up in the drawingroom, which mamma calledthe yellow saloon, and my bedroom was called the pink bedroom, andhers the orange tawny apartment (how well I remember them all!); andat dinner-time Tim regularly rang a great bell, and we each had asilver tankard to drink from, and mother boasted with justice that Ihad as good a bottle of claret by my side as any squire of the land.So indeed I had, but I was not, of course, allowed at my tenderyears to drink any of the wine; which thus attained a considerableage, even in the decanter.Uncle Brady (in spite of the family quarrel) found out the abovefact one day by calling at Barryville at dinner-time, and unluckilytasting the liquor. You should have seen how he sputtered and madefaces! But the honest gentleman was not particular about his wine,or the company in which he drank it. He would get drunk, indeed,with the parson or the priest indifferently; with the latter, muchto my mother's indignation, for, as a true blue Nassauite, sheheartily despised all those of the old faith, and would scarcely sitdown in the room with a benighted Papist. But the squire had no suchscruples; he was, indeed, one of the easiest, idlest, and best-natured fellows that ever lived, and many an hour would he pass withthe lonely widow when he was tired of Madam Brady at home. He likedme, he said, as much as one of his own sons, and at length, afterthe widow had held out for a couple of years, she agreed to allow meto return to the castle; though, for herself, she resolutely keptthe oath which she had made with regard to her sister-in-law.The very first day I returned to Castle Brady my trials may be said,in a manner, to have begun. My cousin, Master Mick, a huge monsterof nineteen (who hated me, and I promise you I returned thecompliment), insulted me at dinner about my mother's poverty, andmade all the girls of the family titter. So when we went to thestables, whither Mick always went for his pipe of tobacco afterdinner, I told him a piece of my mind, and there was a fight for atleast ten minutes, during which I stood to him like a man, andblacked his left eye, though I was myself only twelve years old atthe time. Of course he beat me, but a beating makes only a smallimpression on a lad of that tender age, as I had proved many timesin battles with the ragged Brady's Town boys before, not one ofwhom, at my time of life, was my match. My uncle was very muchpleased when he heard of my gallantry; my cousin Nora brought brownpaper and vinegar for my nose, and I went home that night with apint of claret under my girdle, not a little proud, let me tell you,at having held my own against Mick so long.And though he persisted in his bad treatment of me, and used to caneme whenever I fell in his way, yet I was very happy now at CastleBrady with the company there, and my cousins, or some of them, andthe kindness of my uncle, with whom I became a prodigious favourite.He bought a colt for me, and taught me to ride. He took me outcoursing and fowling, and instructed me to shoot flying. And atlength I was released from Mick's persecution, for his brother,Master Ulick, returning from Trinity College, and hating his elderbrother, as is mostly the way in families of fashion, took me underhis protection; and from that time, as Ulick was a deal bigger andstronger than Mick, I, English Redmond, as I was called, was leftalone; except when the former thought fit to thrash me, which he didwhenever he thought proper.Nor was my learning neglected in the ornamental parts, for I had anuncommon natural genius for many things, and soon topped inaccomplishments most of the persons around me. I had a quick ear anda fine voice, which my mother cultivated to the best of her power,and she taught me to step a minuet gravely and gracefully, and thuslaid the foundation of my future success in life. The common dancesI learned (as, perhaps, I ought not to confess) in the servants'hall, which, you may be sure, was never without a piper, and where Iwas considered unrivalled both at a hornpipe and a jig.In the matter of book-learning, I had always an uncommon taste forreading plays and novels, as the best part of a gentleman's politeeducation, and never let a pedlar pass the village, if I had apenny, without having a ballad or two from him. As for your dullgrammar, and Greek and Latin and stuff, I have always hated themfrom my youth upwards, and said, very unmistakably, I would havenone of them.This I proved pretty clearly at the age of thirteen, when my auntBiddy Brady's legacy of L100 came in to mamma, who thought to employthe sum on my education, and sent me to Doctor Tobias Tickler'sfamous academy at Ballywhacket--Backwhacket, as my uncle used tocall it. But six weeks after I had been consigned to his reverence,I suddenly made my appearance again at Castle Brady, having walkedforty miles from the odious place, and left the Doctor in a statenear upon apoplexy. The fact was, that at taw, prison-bars, orboxing, I was at the head of the school, but could not be brought toexcel in the classics; and after having been flogged seven times,without its doing me the least good in my Latin, I refused to submitaltogether (finding it useless) to an eighth application of the rod.'Try some other way, sir,' said I, when he was for horsing me oncemore; but he wouldn't; whereon, and to defend myself, I flung aslate at him, and knocked down a Scotch usher with a leadeninkstand. All the lads huzza'd at this, and some or the servantswanted to stop me; but taking out a large clasp-knife that my cousinNora had given me, I swore I would plunge it into the waistcoat ofthe first man who dared to balk me, and faith they let me pass on. Islept that night twenty miles off Ballywhacket, at the house of acottier, who gave me potatoes and milk, and to whom I gave a hundredguineas after, when I came to visit Ireland in my days of greatness.I wish I had the money now. But what's the use of regret? I have hadmany a harder bed than that I shall sleep on to-night, and many ascantier meal than honest Phil Murphy gave me on the evening I ranaway from school. So six weeks' was all the schooling I ever got.And I say this to let parents know the value of it; for though Ihave met more learned book-worms in the world, especially a greathulking, clumsy, blear-eyed old doctor, whom they called Johnson,and who lived in a court off Fleet Street, in London, yet I prettysoon silenced him in an argument (at 'Button's Coffeehouse'); and inthat, and in poetry, and what I call natural philosophy, or thescience of life, and in riding, music, leaping, the small-sword, theknowledge of a horse, or a main of cocks, and the manners of anaccomplished gentleman and a man of fashion, I may say for myselfthat Redmond Barry has seldom found his equal. 'Sir,' said I to Mr.Johnson, on the occasion I allude to--he was accompanied by a Mr.Buswell of Scotland, and I was presented to the club by a Mr.Goldsmith, a countryman of my own--'Sir,' said I, in reply to theschoolmaster's great thundering quotation in Greek, 'you fancy youknow a great deal more than me, because you quote your Aristotle andyour Pluto; but can you tell me which horse will win at Epsom Downsnext week?--Can you run six miles without breathing?--Can you shootthe ace of spades ten times without missing? If so, talk aboutAristotle and Pluto to me.''D'ye knaw who ye're speaking to?' roared out the Scotch gentleman,Mr. Boswell, at this.'Hold your tongue, Mr. Boswell,' said the old schoolmaster. 'I hadno right to brag of my Greek to the gentleman, and he has answeredme very well.''Doctor,' says I, looking waggishly at him, 'do you know ever arhyme for Aristotle?''Port, if you plaise,' says Mr. Goldsmith, laughing. And we had sixrhymes for Aristotle before we left the coffee-house that evening.It became a regular joke afterwards when I told the story, and at'White's' or the 'Cocoa-tree' you would hear the wags say, 'Waiter,bring me one of Captain Barry's rhymes for Aristotle.' Once, when Iwas in liquor at the latter place, young Dick Sheridan called me agreat Staggerite, a joke which I could never understand. But I amwandering from my story, and must get back to home, and dear oldIreland again.I have made acquaintance with the best in the land since, and mymanners are such, I have said, as to make me the equal of them all;and, perhaps, you will wonder how a country boy, as I was, educatedamongst Irish squires, and their dependants of the stable and farm,should arrive at possessing such elegant manners as I wasindisputably allowed to have. I had, the fact is, a very valuableinstructor in the person of an old gamekeeper, who had served theFrench king at Fontenoy, and who taught me the dances and customs,and a smattering of the language of that country, with the use ofthe sword, both small and broad. Many and many a long mile I havetrudged by his side as a lad, he telling me wonderful stories of theFrench king, and the Irish brigade, and Marshal Saxe, and the opera-dancers; he knew my uncle, too, the Chevalier Borgne, and indeed hada thousand accomplishments which he taught me in secret. I neverknew a man like him for making or throwing a fly, for physicking ahorse, or breaking, or choosing one; he taught me manly sports, frombirds'-nesting upwards, and I always shall consider Phil Purcell asthe very best tutor I could have had. His fault was drink, but forthat I have always had a blind eye; and he hated my cousin Mick likepoison; but I could excuse him that too.With Phil, and at the age of fifteen, I was a more accomplished manthan either of my cousins; and I think Nature had been also morebountiful to me in the matter of person. Some of the Castle Bradygirls (as you shall hear presently) adored me. At fairs and racesmany of the prettiest lasses present said they would like to have mefor their bachelor; and yet somehow, it must be confessed, I was notpopular.In the first place, every one knew I was bitter poor; and I think,perhaps, it was my good mother's fault that I was bitter proud too.I had a habit of boasting in company of my birth, and the splendourof my carriages, gardens, cellars, and domestics, and this beforepeople who were perfectly aware of my real circumstances. If it wasboys, and they ventured to sneer, I would beat them, or die for it;and many's the time I've been brought home well-nigh killed by oneor more of them, on what, when my mother asked me, I would say was'a family quarrel.' 'Support your name with your blood, Reddy myboy,' would that saint say, with the tears in her eyes; and so wouldshe herself have done with her voice, ay, and her teeth and nails.Thus, at fifteen, there was scarce a lad of twenty, for half-a-dozenmiles round, that I had not beat for one cause or other. There werethe vicar's two sons of Castle Brady--in course I could notassociate with such beggarly brats as them, and many a battle did wehave as to who should take the wall in Brady's Town; there was PatLurgan, the blacksmith's son, who had the better of me four timesbefore we came to the crowning fight, when I overcame him; and Icould mention a score more of my deeds of prowess in that way, butthat fisticuff facts are dull subjects to talk of, and to discussbefore high-bred gentlemen and ladies.However, there is another subject, ladies, on which I mustdiscourse, and that is never out of place. Day and night you like tohear of it: young and old, you dream and think of it. Handsome andugly (and, faith, before fifty, I never saw such a thing as a plainwoman), it's the subject next to the hearts of all of you; and Ithink you guess my riddle without more trouble. Love! sure the wordis formed on purpose out of the prettiest soft vowels and consonantsin the language, and he or she who does not care to read about it isnot worth a fig, to my thinking.My uncle's family consisted of ten children; who, as is the customin such large families, were divided into two camps, or parties; theone siding with their mamma, the other taking the part of my unclein all the numerous quarrels which arose between that gentleman andhis lady. Mrs. Brady's faction was headed by Mick, the eldest son,who hated me so, and disliked his father for keeping him out of hisproperty: while Ulick, the second brother, was his father's own boy;and, in revenge, Master Mick was desperately afraid of him. I neednot mention the girls' names; I had plague enough with them inafter-life, Heaven knows; and one of them was the cause of all myearly troubles: this was (though to be sure all her sisters deniedit) the belle of the family, Miss Honoria Brady by name.She said she was only nineteen at the time; but I could read thefly-leaf in the family Bible as well as another (it was one of thethree books which, with the backgammon-board, formed my uncle'slibrary), and know that she was born in the year '37, and christenedby Doctor Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin: hence she was three-and-twenty years old at the time she and I were so much together.When I come to think about her now, I know she never could have beenhandsome; for her figure was rather of the fattest, and her mouth ofthe widest; she was freckled over like a partridge's egg, and herhair was the colour of a certain vegetable which we eat with boiledbeef, to use the mildest term. Often and often would my dear mothermake these remarks concerning her; but I did not believe them then,and somehow had gotten to think Honoria an angelical being, farabove all the other angels of her sex.And as we know very well that a lady who is skilled in dancing orsinging never can perfect herself without a deal of study inprivate, and that the song or the minuet which is performed with somuch graceful ease in the assembly-room has not been acquiredwithout vast labour and perseverance in private; so it is with thedear creatures who are skilled in coquetting. Honoria, for instance,was always practising, and she would take poor me to rehearse heraccomplishment upon; or the exciseman, when he came his rounds, orthe steward, or the poor curate, or the young apothecary's lad fromBrady's Town: whom I recollect beating once for that very reason. Ifhe is alive now I make him my apologies. Poor fellow! as if it washis fault that he should be a victim to the wiles of one of thegreatest coquettes (considering her obscure life and rusticbreeding) in the world.If the truth must be told--and every word of this narrative of mylife is of the most sacred veracity--my passion for Nora began in avery vulgar and unromantic way. I did not save her life; on thecontrary, I once very nearly killed her, as you shall hear. I didnot behold her by moonlight playing on the guitar, or rescue herfrom the hands of ruffians, as Alfonso does Lindamira in the novel;but one day, after dinner at Brady's Town, in summer, going into thegarden to pull gooseberries for my dessert, and thinking only ofgooseberries, I pledge my honour, I came upon Miss Nora and one ofher sisters, with whom she was friends at the time, who were bothengaged in the very same amusement.'What's the Latin for gooseberry, Redmond?' says she. She was always'poking her fun,' as the Irish phrase it.'I know the Latin for goose,' says I.'And what's that?' cries Miss Mysie, as pert as a peacock.'Bo to you!' says I (for I had never a want of wit); and so we fellto work at the gooseberry-bush, laughing and talking as happy asmight be. In the course of our diversion Nora managed to scratch herarm, and it bled, and she screamed, and it was mighty round andwhite, and I tied it up, and I believe was permitted to kiss herhand; and though it was as big and clumsy a hand as ever you saw,yet I thought the favour the most ravishing one that was everconferred upon me, and went home in a rapture.I was much too simple a fellow to disguise any sentiment I chancedto feel in those days; and not one of the eight Castle Brady girlsbut was soon aware of my passion, and joked and complimented Noraabout her bachelor.The torments of jealousy the cruel coquette made me endure werehorrible. Sometimes she would treat me as a child, sometimes as aman. She would always leave me if ever there came a stranger to thehouse.'For after all, Redmond,' she would say, 'you are but fifteen, andyou haven't a guinea in the world.' At which I would swear that Iwould become the greatest hero ever known out of Ireland, and vowthat before I was twenty I would have money enough to purchase anestate six times as big as Castle Brady. All which vain promises, ofcourse, I did not keep; but I make no doubt they influenced me in myvery early life, and caused me to do those great actions for which Ihave been celebrated, and which shall be narrated presently inorder.I must tell one of them, just that my dear young lady readers mayknow what sort of a fellow Redmond Barry was, and what a courage andundaunted passion he had. I question whether any of the jenny-jessamines of the present day would do half as much in the face ofdanger.About this time, it must be premised, the United Kingdom was in astate of great excitement from the threat generally credited of aFrench invasion. The Pretender was said to be in high favour atVersailles, a descent upon Ireland was especially looked to, and thenoblemen and people of condition in that and all other parts of thekingdom showed their loyalty by raising regiments of horse and footto resist the invaders. Brady's Town sent a company to join theKilwangan regiment, of which Master Mick was the captain; and we hada letter from Master Ulick at Trinity College, stating that theUniversity had also formed a regiment, in which he had the honour tobe a corporal. How I envied them both! especially that odious Mickas I saw him in his laced scarlet coat, with a ribbon in his hat,march off at the head of his men. He, the poor spiritless creature,was a captain, and I nothing,--I who felt I had as much courage asthe Duke of Cumberland himself, and felt, too, that a red jacketwould mightily become me! My mother said I was too young to join thenew regiment; but the fact was, that it was she herself who was toopoor, for the cost of a new uniform would have swallowed up half heryear's income, and she would only have her boy appear in a waysuitable to his birth, riding the finest of racers, dressed in thebest of clothes, and keeping the genteelest of company.Well, then, the whole country was alive with war's alarums, thethree kingdoms ringing with military music, and every man of meritpaying his devoirs at the court of Bellona, whilst poor I wasobliged to stay at home in my fustian jacket and sigh for fame insecret. Mr. Mick came to and fro from the regiment, and broughtnumerous of his comrades with him. Their costume and swaggering airsfilled me with grief, and Miss Nora's unvarying attentions to themserved to make me half wild. No one, however, thought of attributingthis sadness to the young lady's score, but rather to mydisappointment at not being allowed to join the military profession.Once the officers of the Fencibles gave a grand ball at Kilwangan,to which, as a matter of course, all the ladies of Castle Brady (anda pretty ugly coachful they were) were invited. I knew to whattortures the odious little flirt of a Nora would put me with hereternal coquetries with the officers, and refused for a long time tobe one of the party to the ball. But she had a way of conquering me,against which all resistance of mine was in vain. She vowed thatriding in a coach always made her ill. 'And how can I go to theball,' said she, 'unless you take me on Daisy behind you on thepillion?' Daisy was a good blood-mare of my uncle's, and to such aproposition I could not for my soul say no; so we rode in safety toKilwangan, and I felt myself as proud as any prince when shepromised to dance a country-dance with me.When the dance was ended, the little ungrateful flirt informed methat she had quite forgotten her engagement; she had actually dancedthe set with an Englishman! I have endured torments in my life, butnone like that. She tried to make up for her neglect, but I wouldnot. Some of the prettiest girls there offered to console me, for Iwas the best dancer in the room. I made one attempt, but was toowretched to continue, and so remained alone all night in a state ofagony. I would have played, but I had no money; only the gold piecethat my mother bade me always keep in my purse as a gentlemanshould. I did not care for drink, or know the dreadful comfort of itin those days; but I thought of killing myself and Nora, and mostcertainly of making away with Captain Quin!At last, and at morning, the ball was over. The rest of our ladieswent off in the lumbering creaking old coach; Daisy was brought out,and Miss Nora took her place behind me, which I let her do without aword. But we were not half-a-mile out of town when she began to trywith her coaxing and blandishments to dissipate my ill-humour.'Sure it's a bitter night, Redmond dear, and you'll catch coldwithout a handkerchief to your neck.' To this sympathetic remarkfrom the pillion, the saddle made no reply.'Did you and Miss Clancy have a pleasant evening, Redmond? You weretogether, I saw, all night.' To this the saddle only replied bygrinding his teeth, and giving a lash to Daisy.'O mercy! you'll make Daisy rear and throw me, you careless creatureyou: and you know, Redmond, I'm so timid.' The pillion had by thisgot her arm round the saddle's waist, and perhaps gave it thegentlest squeeze in the world.'I hate Miss Clancy, you know I do!' answers the saddle; 'and I onlydanced with her because--because--the person with whom I intended todance chose to be engaged the whole night.''Sure there were my sisters,' said the pillion, now laughingoutright in the pride of her conscious superiority; 'and for me, mydear, I had not been in the room five minutes before I was engagedfor every single set.''Were you obliged to dance five times with Captain Quin?' said I;and oh! strange delicious charm of coquetry, I do believe Miss NoraBrady at twenty-three years of age felt a pang of delight inthinking that she had so much power over a guileless lad of fifteen.Of course she replied that she did not care a fig for Captain Quin:that he danced prettily, to be sure, and was a pleasant rattle of aman; that he looked well in his regimentals too; and if he chose toask her to dance, how could she refuse him?'But you refused me, Nora.''Oh! I can dance with you any day,' answered Miss Nora, with a tossof her head; 'and to dance with your cousin at a ball, looks as ifyou could find no other partner. Besides,' said Nora--and this was acruel, unkind cut, which showed what a power she had over me, andhow mercilessly she used it,--'besides, Redmond, Captain Quin's aman and you are only a boy!''If ever I meet him again,' I roared out with an oath, 'you shallsee which is the best man of the two. I'll fight him with sword orwith pistol, captain as he is. A man indeed! I'll fight any man--every man! Didn't I stand up to Mick Brady when I was eleven yearsold?--Didn't I beat Tom Sullivan, the great hulking brute, who isnineteen?--Didn't I do for the Scotch usher? O Nora, it's cruel ofyou to sneer at me so!'But Nora was in the sneering mood that night, and pursued hersarcasms; she pointed out that Captain Quin was already known as avaliant soldier, famous as a man of fashion in London, and that itwas mighty well of Redmond to talk and boast of beating ushers andfarmers' boys, but to fight an Englishman was a very differentmatter.Then she fell to talk of the invasion, and of military matters ingeneral; of King Frederick (who was called, in those days, theProtestant hero), of Monsieur Thurot and his fleet, of MonsieurConflans and his squadron, of Minorca, how it was attacked, andwhere it was; we both agreed it must be in America, and hoped theFrench might be soundly beaten there.I sighed after a while (for I was beginning to melt), and said howmuch I longed to be a soldier; on which Nora recurred to herinfallible 'Ah! now, would you leave me, then? But, sure, you're notbig enough for anything more than a little drummer.' To which Ireplied, by swearing that a soldier I would be, and a general too.As we were chattering in this silly way, we came to a place that hasever since gone by the name of Redmond's Leap Bridge. It was an oldhigh bridge, over a stream sufficiently deep and rocky, and as themare Daisy with her double load was crossing this bridge, Miss Nora,giving a loose to her imagination, and still harping on the militarytheme (I would lay a wager that she was thinking of Captain Quin)--Miss Nora said, 'Suppose now, Redmond, you, who are such a hero, waspassing over the bridge, and the inimy on the other side?''I'd draw my sword, and cut my way through them.''What, with me on the pillion? Would you kill poor me?' (This younglady was perpetually speaking of 'poor me!')'Well, then, I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd jump Daisy into theriver, and swim you both across, where no enemy could follow us.''Jump twenty feet! you wouldn't dare to do any such thing on Daisy.There's the Captain's horse, Black George, I've heard say thatCaptain Qui--'She never finished the word, for, maddened by the continualrecurrence of that odious monosyllable, I shouted to her to 'holdtight by my waist,' and, giving Daisy the spur, in a minute sprangwith Nora over the parapet into the deep water below. I don't knowwhy, now--whether it was I wanted to drown myself and Nora, or toperform an act that even Captain Quin should crane at, or whether Ifancied that the enemy actually was in front of us, I can't tellnow; but over I went. The horse sank over his head, the girlscreamed as she sank and screamed as she rose, and I landed her,half fainting, on the shore, where we were soon found by my uncle'speople, who returned on hearing the screams. I went home, and wasill speedily of a fever, which kept me to my bed for six weeks; andI quitted my couch prodigiously increased in stature, and, at thesame time, still more violently in love than I had been even before.At the commencement of my illness, Miss Nora had been prettyconstant in her attendance at my bedside, forgetting, for the sakeof me, the quarrel between my mother and her family; which my goodmother was likewise pleased, in the most Christian manner, toforget. And, let me tell you, it was no small mark of goodness in awoman of her haughty disposition, who, as a rule, never forgaveanybody, for my sake to give up her hostility to Miss Brady, and toreceive her kindly. For, like a mad boy as I was, it was Nora I wasalways raving about and asking for; I would only accept medicinesfrom her hand, and would look rudely and sulkily upon the goodmother, who loved me better than anything else in the world, andgave up even her favourite habits, and proper and becomingjealousies, to make me happy.As I got well, I saw that Nora's visits became daily more rare: 'Whydon't she come?' I would say, peevishly, a dozen times in the day;in reply to which query, Mrs. Barry would be obliged to make thebest excuses she could find,--such as that Nora had sprained herankle, or that they had quarrelled together, or some other answer tosoothe me. And many a time has the good soul left me to go and breakher heart in her own room alone, and come back with a smiling face,so that I should know nothing of her mortification. Nor, indeed, didI take much pains to ascertain it: nor should I, I fear, have beenvery much touched even had I discovered it; for the commencement ofmanhood, I think, is the period of our extremest selfishness. We getsuch a desire then to take wing and leave the parent nest, that notears, entreaties, or feelings of affection will counter-balancethis overpowering longing after independence. She must have beenvery sad, that poor mother of mine--Heaven be good to her!--at thatperiod of my life; and has often told me since what a pang of theheart it was to her to see all her care and affection of yearsforgotten by me in a minute, and for the sake of a little heartlessjilt, who was only playing with me while she could get no bettersuitor. For the fact is, that during the last four weeks of myillness, no other than Captain Quin was staying at Castle Brady, andmaking love to Miss Nora in form. My mother did not dare to breakthis news to me, and you may be sure that Nora herself kept it asecret: it was only by chance that I discovered it.Shall I tell you how? The minx had been to see me one day, as I satup in my bed, convalescent; she was in such high spirits, and sogracious and kind to me, that my heart poured over with joy andgladness, and I had even for my poor mother a kind word and a kissthat morning. I felt myself so well that I ate up a whole chicken,and promised my uncle, who had come to see me, to be ready againstpartridge-shooting, to accompany him, as my custom was.The next day but one was a Sunday, and I had a project for that daywhich I determined to realise, in spite of all the doctor's and mymother's injunctions: which were that I was on no account to leavethe house, for the fresh air would be the death of me.Well, I lay wondrous quiet, composing a copy of verses, the first Iever made in my life; and I give them here, spelt as I spelt them inthose days when I knew no better. And though they are not sopolished and elegant as 'Ardelia ease a Love-sick Swain,' and 'WhenSol bedecks the Daisied Mead,' and other lyrical effusions of minewhich obtained me so much reputation in after life, I still thinkthem pretty good for a humble lad of fifteen:--The Rose of FloraSent by a Young Gentleman of Quality to Miss Br-dy, of Castle Brady. On Brady's tower there grows a flower, It is the loveliest flower that blows,-- At Castle Brady there lives a lady (And how I love her no one knows): Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora Presents her with this blooming rose. 'O Lady Nora,' says the goddess Flora, 'I've many a rich and bright parterre; In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers, But you're the fairest lady there: Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty, Can projuice a treasure that's half so fair! What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her! Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew Beneath her eyelid is like the vi'let, That darkly glistens with gentle jew? The lily's nature is not surely whiter Than Nora's neck is,--and her arrums too. 'Come, gentle Nora,' says the goddess Flora, 'My dearest creature, take my advice, There is a poet, full well you know it, Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,-- Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry, If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise.' On Sunday, no sooner was my mother gone to church, than I summonedPhil the valet, and insisted upon his producing my best suit, inwhich I arrayed myself (although I found that I had shot up so in myillness that the old dress was wofully too small for me), and, withmy notable copy of verses in my hand, ran down towards Castle Brady,bent upon beholding my beauty. The air was so fresh and bright, andthe birds sang so loud amidst the green trees, that I felt moreelated than I had been for months before, and sprang down the avenue(my uncle had cut down every stick of the trees, by the way) asbrisk as a young fawn. My heart began to thump as I mounted thegrass-grown steps of the terrace, and passed in by the rickety hall-door. The master and mistress were at church, Mr. Screw the butlertold me (after giving a start back at seeing my altered appearance,and gaunt lean figure), and so were six of the young ladies.'Was Miss Nora one?' I asked.'No, Miss Nora was not one,' said Mr. Screw, assuming a verypuzzled, and yet knowing look.'Where was she?' To this question he answered, or rather madebelieve to answer, with usual Irish ingenuity, and left me to settlewhether she was gone to Kilwangan on the pillion behind her brother,or whether she and her sister had gone for a walk, or whether shewas ill in her room; and while I was settling this query, Mr. Screwleft me abruptly.I rushed away to the back court, where the Castle Brady stablesstand, and there I found a dragoon whistling the 'Roast Beef of OldEngland,' as he cleaned down a cavalry horse. 'Whose horse, fellow,is that?' cried I.'Feller, indeed!' replied the Englishman: 'the horse belongs to mycaptain, and he's a better feller nor you any day.'I did not stop to break his bones, as I would on another occasion,for a horrible suspicion had come across me, and I made for thegarden as quickly as I could.I knew somehow what I should see there. I saw Captain Quin and Norapacing the alley together. Her arm was under his, and the scoundrelwas fondling and squeezing the hand which lay closely nestlingagainst his odious waistcoat. Some distance beyond them was CaptainFagan of the Kilwangan regiment, who was paying court to Nora'ssister Mysie.I am not afraid of any man or ghost; but as I saw that sight myknees fell a-trembling violently under me, and such a sickness cameover me, that I was fain to sink down on the grass by a tree againstwhich I leaned, and lost almost all consciousness for a minute ortwo: then I gathered myself up, and, advancing towards the couple onthe walk, loosened the blade of the little silver-hilted hanger Ialways wore in its scabbard; for I was resolved to pass it throughthe bodies of the delinquents, and spit them like two pigeons. Idon't tell what feelings else besides those of rage were passingthrough my mind; what bitter blank disappointment, what mad wilddespair, what a sensation as if the whole world was tumbling fromunder me; I make no doubt that my reader hath been jilted by theladies many times, and so bid him recall his own sensations when theshock first fell upon him.'No, Norelia,' said the Captain (for it was the fashion of thosetimes for lovers to call themselves by the most romantic names outof novels), 'except for you and four others, I vow before all thegods, my heart has never felt the soft flame!''Ah! you men, you men, Eugenio!' said she (the beast's name wasJohn), 'your passion is not equal to ours. We are like--like someplant I've read of--we bear but one flower and then we die!''Do you mean you never felt an inclination for another?' saidCaptain Quin.'Never, my Eugenio, but for thee! How can you ask a blushing nymphsuch a question?''Darling Norelia!' said he, raising her hand to his lips.I had a knot of cherry-coloured ribands, which she had given me outof her breast, and which somehow I always wore upon me. I pulledthese out of my bosom, and flung them in Captain Quin's face, andrushed out with my little sword drawn, shrieking, 'She's a liar--she's a liar, Captain Quin! Draw, sir, and defend yourself, if youare a man!' and with these words I leapt at the monster, andcollared him, while Nora made the air echo with her screams; at thesound of which the other captain and Mysie hastened up.Although I sprang up like a weed in my illness, and was now nearlyattained to my full growth of six feet, yet I was but a lath by theside of the enormous English captain, who had calves and shoulderssuch as no chairman at Bath ever boasted. He turned very red, andthen exceedingly pale at my attack upon him, and slipped back andclutched at his sword--when Nora, in an agony of terror, flungherself round him, screaming, 'Eugenio! Captain Quin, for Heaven'ssake spare the child--he is but an infant.''And ought to be whipped for his impudence,' said the Captain; 'butnever fear, Miss Brady, I shall not touch him; your favourite issafe from me.' So saying, he stooped down and picked up the bunch ofribands which had fallen at Nora's feet, and handing it to her, saidin a sarcastic tone, 'When ladies make presents to gentlemen, it istime for other gentlemen to retire.''Good heavens, Quin!' cried the girl; 'he is but a boy.''I am a man,' roared I, 'and will prove it.''And don't signify any more than my parrot or lap-dog. Mayn't I givea bit of riband to my own cousin?''You are perfectly welcome, miss,' continued the Captain, 'as manyyards as you like.''Monster!' exclaimed the dear girl; 'your father was a tailor, andyou are always thinking of the shop. But I'll have my revenge, Iwill! Reddy, will you see me insulted?''Indeed, Miss Nora,' says I, 'I intend to have his blood as sure asmy name's Redmond.''I'll send for the usher to cane you, little boy,' said the Captain,regaining his self-possession; 'but as for you, miss, I have thehonour to wish you a good-day.'He took off his hat with much ceremony, made a low cong, and wasjust walking off, when Mick, my cousin, came up, whose ear hadlikewise been caught by the scream.'Hoity-toity! Jack Quin, what's the matter here?' says Mick; 'Norain tears, Redmond's ghost here with his sword drawn, and you makinga bow?''I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Brady,' said the Englishman: 'I havehad enough of Miss Nora, here, and your Irish ways. I ain't used to'em, sir.''Well, well! what is it?' said Mick good-humouredly (for he owedQuin a great deal of money as it turned out); 'we'll make you usedto our ways, or adopt English ones.''It's not the English way for ladies to have two lovers' (the'Henglish way,' as the captain called it), 'and so, Mr. Brady, I'llthank you to pay me the sum you owe me, and I'll resign all claimsto this young lady. If she has a fancy for schoolboys, let her take'em, sir.''Pooh, pooh! Quin, you are joking,' said Mick.'I never was more in earnest,' replied the other.'By Heaven, then, look to yourself!' shouted Mick. 'Infamousseducer! infernal deceiver!--you come and wind your toils round thissuffering angel here--you win her heart and leave her--and fancy herbrother won't defend her? Draw this minute, you slave! and let mecut the wicked heart out of your body!''This is regular assassination,' said Quin, starting back; 'there'stwo on 'em on me at once. Fagan, you won't let 'em murder me?''Faith!' said Captain Fagan, who seemed mightily amused, 'you maysettle your own quarrel, Captain Quin;' and coming over to me,whispered, 'At him again, you little fellow.''As long as Mr. Quin withdraws his claim,' said I, 'I, of course, donot interfere.''I do, sir--I do,' said Mr. Quin, more and more flustered.'Then defend yourself like a man, curse you!' cried Mick again.'Mysie, lead this poor victim away--Redmond and Fagan will see fairplay between us.''Well now--I don't--give me time--I'm puzzled--I--I don't know whichway to look.''Like the donkey betwixt the two bundles of hay,' said Mr. Fagandrily, 'and there's pretty pickings on either side.'