able to command, no matter what line of life solicited my adoption.

'But it's near one o'clock; and so now, Mr. O'Leary, if you've no objection, we'll have a grill and a glass of Madeira, and then, if you can keep awake an hour or so longer, I'll try and finish my adventures.'

CHAPTER VII

THE SMUGGLER'S STORY (continued)

'I LEFT off at that flattering portion of my history where I became a horse-dealer. In this capacity I travelled over a considerable portion of Ireland-now larking it in the west, jollifying in the south, and occasionally suffering a penance for both enjoyments by a stray trip to Ulster. In these rambles I contrived to make acquaintance with most of the resident gentry, who, by the special freemasonry that attends my calling, scrupled not to treat me on terms of half equality, and even to invite me to their houses-a piece of condescension on their part, which they well knew was paid for in more solid advantages.

'In a word, Mr. O'Leary, I became a kind of moral amphibia, with powers to sustain life in two distinct and opposite elements-now brushing my way among friezecoated farmers, trainers, dealers, sharpers, and stable-men; now floating on the surface of a politer world, where the topics of conversation took a different range, and were couched in a very different vocabulary.

'My knowledge of French, and my acquaintance with Parisian life, at least as seen in that class in which I used to mix, added to a kind of natural tact, made me, as far as manners and usage were concerned, the equal of those with whom I associated; and I managed matters so well that the circumstance of my being seen in the morning with cords and tops of jockey cut, showing off a "screw," or extolling the symmetry of a spavined hackney, never

interfered with the pretensions I put forward at night, when, dressed in a suit of accurate black, I turned over the last new opera, or delivered a very scientific criticism on the new ballet in London, or the latest fashion imported from the Continent.

'Were I to trace this part of my career, I might perhaps amuse you more by the incidents it contained than by any other portion of my life. Nothing indeed is so suggestive of adventure as that anomaly which the French denominate so significantly "a false position." The man whocome, come, don't be afraid; though that sounds very like Joseph Surface, I'm not going to moralise-the man, I say, who endeavours to sustain two distinct lines in life is very likely to fail in both, and so I felt it; for while my advantages all inclined to one side, my taste and predilections leaned to the other. I could never adopt knavery as a profession: as an amateur I gloried in it. Roguery without risk was a poor pettifogging policy that I spurned; but a practical joke that involved life or limb, a hearty laugh or a heavy reckoning, was a temptation I never could resist. The more I mixed in society, the greater my intimacy with persons of education and refinement, the stronger became my repugnance to my actual condition and the line of life I had adopted. While my position in society was apparently more fixed, I became in reality more nervously anxious for its stability. The fascinations which in the better walks of life are thrown around the man of humble condition but high aspirings are strong and and sore temptations; while he measures and finds himself not inferior to others to whom the race is open and the course is free, and yet feels in his own heart that there is a bar upon his escutcheon which excludes him from the lists. I began now to experience this in all its poignancy. Among the acquaintances I had formed, one of my most intimate was a young baronet, who had just succeeded to a large estate in the county of Kilkenny. Sir Harvey Blundell was an Anglo-Irishman in more than one sense.

From his English father he had inherited certain staid and quiet notions of propriety, certain conventional ideas regarding the observance of etiquette, which are less valued in Ireland; while from his mother he succeeded to an appreciation of native fun and drollery, of all the whims and oddities of Irish life, which, strange enough, are so well understood by the Anglo-Irishman as by one "to the manner born."

'I met Sir Harvey at a supper-party in Trinity. Some song I had sung of my own composing, or some story of my inventing, I forget which, tickled his fancy. He begged to be introduced to me, drew his chair over to my side of the table, and ended by giving me an invitation to his house for the partridge-shooting, which was to begin in a few days. I readily assented. It was a season in which I had nothing to do; my friend Dan had gone over to the Highlands to make a purchase of some ponies; I was rather flush of cash, and consequently in good spirits. It was arranged that I should drive him down in my drag, a turnout with four spanking greys, of whose match and colour, shape and action, I was not a little vain.

'We posted to Carlow, to which place I had sent on my horses, and arrived the same evening at Sir Harvey's house in time for dinner. This was the first acquaintance I had made independent of my profession. Sir Harvey knew me as Mr. O'Kelly, whom he met at an old friend's chambers in college; and he introduced me thus to his company, adding to his intimates in a whisper which I could overhear, “Devilish fast fellow; up to everything; knows life at home and abroad, and has such a team!" Here were requisites enough, in all conscience, to win favour among any set of young country gentlemen, and I soon found myself surrounded by a circle who listened to my opinions on every subject, and recorded my judgments with the most implicit faith in their wisdom, no matter on what subject I talked-women, wine, the drama, play, sporting, debts, duns, or duels. My word was law.

'Two circumstances considerably aided me in my present supremacy. First, Sir Harvey's friends were all young men from Oxford, who knew little of the world, and less of that part of it called Ireland; and secondly, they were all strangers to me, and consequently my liberty of speech was untrammelled by any unpleasant reminiscences of dealing in fairs or auctions.

'The establishment was presided over by Sir Harvey's sister at least nominally so, her presence being a reason for having ladies at his parties; and although she was only nineteen, she gave a tone and character to the habits of the house which without her it never could have possessed. Miss Blundell was a very charming person, combining in herself two qualities which, added to beauty, made a very irresistible ensemble. She had the greatest flow of spirits, with a retiring and almost timidly bashful disposition; courage for anything, and a delicacy that shrank abashed from all that bordered on display, or bore the slightest semblance of effrontery. I shall say no more than that before I was a week in the house I was over head and ears in love with her; my whole thoughts centred in her; my chief endeavour was to show myself in such a light as might win her favour.

'Every accomplishment I possessed, every art and power of amusing, I exerted in her service; and at last perceived that she was not indifferent to me. Then, and then for the first time, came the thought-who was I, that dared to do this; what had I of station, rank, or wealth to entitle me to sue, perhaps to gain, the affections of one like her? The duplicity of my conduct started up before me; and I saw for the first time how the mere ardour of pursuit that led me on and on, how the daring to surmount a difficulty had stirred my heart, at first to win and then to worship her. The bitterness of my self-reproach at that moment became a punishment, which even now I remember with a shudder. It is too true that the great misfortunes of life form more endurable subjects for memory in old age than

the instances, however trivial, where we have acted amiss and where conscience rebukes us. I have had my share of calamity, one way or other; my life has been more than once in peril, and in such peril as might well shake the nerve of the boldest. I can think on all these, and do think on them often, without fear or heart-failing; but never can I face the hours when my own immediate self-love and vanity brought their own penalty on me, without a sense of self-abasement as vivid as the moment I first experienced it. But I must hasten over this.

'I had been now about six weeks in Sir Harvey's house, day after day determining on my departure, and invariably yielding when the time came to some new request to stay for something or other-now a day's fishing on the Nore; now another morning at the partridge; then there was a boat-race, or a music party, or a picnic. In fact, each day led on to another, and I found myself lingering on, unable to tear myself from where, I felt, my remaining was ruin. At last I made up my mind, and determined, come what would, to take my leave, never to return. I mentioned to Sir Harvey in the morning that some matter of importance required my presence in town, and by a half promise to spend my Christmas with him, obtained his consent to my departure.

'We were returning from an evening walk; Miss Blundell was leaning on my arm-we were the last of the party, the others having by some chance or other gone forward, leaving us to follow alone. For some time neither of us spoke. What were her thoughts I cannot guess; mine were, I acknowledge, entirely fixed upon the hour I was to see her for the last time, while I balanced whether I should speak of my approaching departure, or leave her without even a good-bye.

'I did not know at the time, so well as I now do, how much of the interest I had excited in her heart depended on the mystery of my life. The stray hints I now and then dropped, the stories into which I was occasionally