er Tom Loftus, Bob Mahon, O'Grady, Tipperary Joe, and even Corny
himself, I have scarcely added a touch which nature has not given them,
while assuredly I have failed to impart many a fine and delicate tint
far above the "reach of--'_my_--art," and which might have presented
them in stronger light and shadow than I have dared to attempt. Had I
desired to caricature English ignorance as to Ireland in the person of
my Guardsman, nothing would have been easier; but I preferred merely
exposing him to such errors as might throw into stronger relief the
peculiarities of Irishmen, and, while offering something to laugh at,
give no offence to either. The volume amused me while I was writing
it,--less, perhaps, by what I recorded, than what I abstained from
inditing; at all events, it was the work of some of the pleasantest
hours of my life, and if it can ever impart to any of my readers a
portion of the amusement some of the real characters afforded myself, it
will not be all a failure. That it may succeed so far is the hope of the
reader's

Very devoted servant,

CHARLES LEVER.

Casa Capponi, Florence, March, 1857.

JACK HINTON, THE GUARDSMAN

CHAPTER I. A FAMILY PARTY

It was on a dark and starless night in February, 181--, as the last
carriage of a dinner-party had driven from the door of a large house
in St. James's-square, when a party drew closer around the drawing-room
fire, apparently bent upon that easy and familiar chit-chat the presence
of company interdicts.

One of these was a large and fine-looking man of about five-and-forty,
who, dressed in the full uniform of a general officer, wore besides the
ribbon of the Bath; he leaned negligently upon the chimney-piece, and,
with his back towards the fire, seemed to follow the current of his own
reflections: this was my Father.

Beside him, but almost concealed in the deep recess of a well-cushioned
arm-chair, sat, or rather lay, a graceful figure, who with an air of
languid repose was shading her fine complexion as well from the glare
of the fire as from the trying brilliancy of an Argand lamp upon the
mantelpiece. Her rich dress, resplendent with jewels, while it strangely
contrasted with the careless ease of her attitude, also showed that she
had bestowed a more than common attention that day upon her toilette:
this, fair reader, was my Mother.

Opposite to her, and disposed in a position of rather studied
gracefulness, lounged a tall, thin, fashi