ect insult. All my self-respect, all my
self-approval gave way in a moment, and I could think of nothing but
cross Corny's commentary on my courage.

'Yes,' said I, half aloud, 'it is a confounded country! If for nothing
else, that every class and condition of man thinks himself capable to
pronounce upon his neighbour. Hard drink and duelling are the national
penates; and Heaven help him who does not adopt the religion of the
land! My English servant would as soon have thought of criticising a
chorus of Euripides as my conduct; and yet this little wretch not only
does so, but does it to my face, superadding a sneer upon my country!'

This, like many other of my early reflections on Ireland, had its grain
of truth and its bushel of fallacy; and before I quitted the land I
learned to make the distinction.

CHAPTER XIV. THE PARTING

From motives of delicacy towards Miss Bellew I did not call that day
at the Rooneys. For many months such an omission on my part had never
occurred. Accordingly, when O'Grady returned at night to the Castle, he
laughingly told me that the house was in half-mourning. Paul sat moodily
over his wine, scarce lifting his head, and looking what he himself
called nonsuited. Mrs. Paul, whose grief was always in the active mood,
sobbed, hiccupped, gulped, and waved her arms as if she had lost a near
relative. Miss Bellew did not appear at all, and Phil discovered that
she had written home that morning, requesting her father to send for her
without loss of time.

'The affair, as you see,' continued O'Grady, 'has turned out ill for all
parties. Dudley has lost his post, you your mistress, and I my money--a
pretty good illustration how much mischief a mere fool can at any moment
make in society.'

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when I mounted my horse to
ride over to Stephen's Green. As I passed slowly along Dame Street my
attention was called to a large placard, which, in front of a house
opposite the lower Castle gate, had attracted a considerable crowd
around it. I was spared the necessity of stopping to read by the hoarse
shout of a ragged ruffian who elbowed his way through the mob, carrying
on one arm a mass of printed handbills; the other hand he held beside
his mouth to aid the energy of his declamation. 'Here's the full and
true account,' cried he, 'of the bloody and me-lan-chc-ly duel that tuk
place yesterday morning in the Phaynix Park, between Lord Dudley de Vere
and Mr