ving was a witness to it, and my only regret in the mention
of it is my inability to convey the readiness with which he seized the
moment of apparent difficulty to throw the protection of his kind and
warm-hearted nature over the apparent folly of a boy.

It was late when the party broke up, and as I took my leave of the Prince,
he once more expressed himself in gracious terms towards me, and gave
me personally an invitation to a breakfast at Hounslow on the following
Saturday.

CHAPTER XL.

THE BELL AT BRISTOL.

On the morning after my dinner at Carlton House, I found my breakfast-table
covered with cards and invitations. The news of the storming of Ciudad
Rodrigo was published in all the morning papers, and my own humble name, in
letters of three feet long, was exhibited in placards throughout the city.
Less to this circumstance, however, than to the kind and gracious notice of
the Prince, was I indebted for the attentions which were shown me by
every one; and indeed, so flattering was the reception I met with, and so
overwhelming the civility showered on me from all sides, that it required
no small effort on my part not to believe myself as much a hero as they
would make me. An eternal round of dinners, balls, breakfasts, and
entertainments filled up the entire week. I was included in every
invitation to Carlton House, and never appeared without receiving from his
Royal Highness the most striking marks of attention. Captivating as all
this undoubtedly was, and fascinated as I felt in being the lion of London,
the courted and sought after by the high, the titled, and the talented of
the great city of the universe, yet amidst all the splendor and seduction
of that new world, my heart instinctively turned from the glare and
brilliancy of gorgeous saloons, from the soft looks and softer voice of
beauty, from the words of praise as they fell from the lips of those whose
notice was fame itself,--to my humble home amidst the mountains of the
west. Delighted and charmed as I felt by that tribute of flattery which
associated my name with one of the most brilliant actions of my country,
yet hitherto I had experienced no touch of home or fatherland. England was
to me as the high and powerful head of my house, whose greatness and whose
glory shed a halo far and near, from the proudest to the humblest of those
that call themselves Britons; but Ireland was-the land of my birth,--the
land of my earliest ties, my dearest