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was tired pitying myself. • Lady Sarah, (mimicking) ogh! if you had but another trumph, and I had the king, and you had the queen, and he had the ten, and she the knave, why we would have been game. Well, we'll squeeze their dollar after all, I hope.'
Emily, for the sake of Heaven, never name that beastly Scanlan to me--the brute knows no more of whist than magic; and then to have him drawling out after every deal his ifs and ands, till half the pack are disposed of; and the savage
is half an hour what he calls 'putting them on their legs ;' he would no more attempt to play with a knave, heels uppermost, than with his eyes shut.”
“ And the dancing," continued the young lady; “ the musicians drunk, the kitchen emptied to the very turnspit to see the quality, the low room reeking with mutton lights—why, my ottar had no more effect over this combi: nation of villanous smells than dead lavendar or withered rose-leaves. But where is the Star -the Phønix—the Apollo Belvidere—the Nonpareil. Oh! Lady Sarah, I am dying to meet
this eighth wonder. Bell, luckiest of waitingwomen, has seen him, and pronounces him an Adonis proper, of six feet two inches.”
Henry began to feel a little uneasy; he was an unintentional listener, and there would be now much awkwardness in a discovery. The dogs at the moment rustled through the underwood. “ Some one is coming this way,” said Lady Sarah. “Let us strike into the other walk.” Emily threw her shawl round her shoulders, and turning away, left young O'Hara in undisturbed indulgence of his own thoughts. How long his musings would have continued, we cannot pretend to guess, for the breakfastbell startled him from his reverie.
“ Have you seen my truant boy,” said O'Hara, as he entered the breakfast-room. “ But no-his first visit will be to the kennel or paddock, where his old favourites are placed in honourable retirement. We never part with our horses, Lady Sarah ; when they have lost their vigour in our service, we allow them food, shelter, and protection; and, among yonder group of venerable hunters, (which he pointed
out in a distant enclosure) you may remark two milk-white ponies, one was the first horse which carried Henry when a child, and the other the last favourite of his lamented mother. What a brute Scanlan appeared to be, when he recommended me to shoot them, or remove them to the heaths of Finlough, as their pasturage would fatten beeves admirably. Poor animals! The first was a merciful proposition, when compared with the last. But here comes my boy,” and his eyes brightened as he gazed on the form that entered; “ here comes the heir to all the pride and poverty of Castle Carra!"
After the ceremonial of introduction was over, and the business of the breakfast-table permitted a furtive glance to be interchanged between the ladies, Lady Sarah's eye reproached her daughter with incredulity, while the heightened colour on Emily's cheek confessed how truly fame had spoken, when she boasted of this accomplished cavalier.
The Doctor's vacant chair produced an inquiry from Henry, where his old friend was ?
Really, Mr. O'Hara," said Lady Sarah,
“ that is a question of some difficulty. I exhibited him in more than usual health and spirits at Mr. Nugent's, last night, but having repeatedly inquired for my Cicisbeo, when the carriage was ordered, I discovered that I had been cruelly abandoned by the false knight, who had been seen riding off with a countryman, but whether on a physical or political errand, no person could pretend to determine.”
“ I'll acquit him of the latter, unless he is marvellously changed since I left Ireland.”
“ But here,” said the Major, “ comes a courier, and probably brings tidings of the lost gallant;" and, as he looked again—“ Himself, by all that's healing !"
Doctor Molloy had been called from the rout of the preceding evening, to attend a sick tenant of Castle Carra, and having been detained to a late hour beside the patient's bed, had taken up his abode for the night with an adjoining farmer. Here the news of his favourite's return had reached him at the moment he was venting his wrath on the Village Apo-, thecary. To roar for his pony, and strike into
a lame canter, was the work of a moment; and,
it was no more Socotrine than Asafoetida. What will the world come to ? Nothing but Jamaica, vile Jamaica ; but where's Harry_where's Harry ? I say, you Hobson, tell Fillup to “tere et divide in charte ;' but zounds, why talk to a clod-hopper. I'll write."
“ Af your Honour would write plain, for the other Doctor says he can't read it—"
“ The other Doctor, he's no Doctor-an Apothecary, Pharmacopolist, adulterator of aloes. Ah! Harry, I see you-Damn Fillup, sells Jamaica, and calls it Socotrine.” The Doctor's joy at his Pupil's return was indescribable. “ Never thought to see you homehate the French,-Goths, Barbarians. Cut off Lavoisier's head-first Chemist in the world ;tucked up the Sieur Fredaine to a lamp-ironunequalled in comparative anatomy."