823 
 
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 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
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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