o the tither!" And with this profound bit
of moralizing, he sipped his glass in revery.

The conversation now became more general, fewer personalities arose; and
as the Dean, after a few efforts to correct statements respecting the
"pedigrees of race-horses," "the odds at hazard," "the soundings upon
the coral reefs," "the best harpoons for the sulphur-bottomed whales,"
only made new failures, he sulked and sat silent, permitting talk to
take its course uninterrupted. The hussar baronet paid marked attention
to Cashel, and invited him to the mess for the day following. Lord
Charles overheard the invitation, and said, "I'll join the party;" while
Mr. Meek, leaning over the table, in a low whisper begged Cashel to
preserve the whole bull adventure a secret, as the press was really a
most malevolent thing in Ireland!

During the while the Chief Justice slept profoundly, only waking as
the bottle came before him, and then dropping off again. The
Attorney-General, an overworked man of business, spoke little and
guardedly, so that the conversation, principally left to the younger
members of the party, ranged over the accustomed topics of hunting,
shooting, and deer-stalking, varied by allusion, on Cashel's part, to
sports of far higher, because more dangerous, excitement.

In the pleasant flurry of being attentively listened to,--a new
sensation for Roland,--he arose and ascended to the drawing-room, where
already a numerous party of refteshers had arrived. Here again Cashel
discovered that he was a person of notoriety, and as, notwithstanding
all Mr. Downie Meek's precaution, the "lasso" story had got abroad, the
most wonderful versions of the incident were repeated on every side.

"How did you say he effected it, Mr. Linton?" said the old deaf Countess
of Dumdrum, making an ear-trumpet of her hand.

"By doing what Mr. Meek won't do with the Catholics, my Lady,--taking
the bull by the horns."

"Don't you think he found conciliation of service besides?" suggested
Mr. Meek, with an angelic simplicity.

"Isn't he handsome! how graceful! So like a Corsair,--one of Byron's
heroes. I 'm dying to know him. Dear me, how those Kennyfeck girls eat
him up. Olivia never takes her eyes off him. He looks so bored, poor
fellow! he 's longing to be let alone." Such were the muttered comments
on the new object of Dublin curiosity, who himself was very far
from suspecting that his personal distinction had less share in his
popularity