ns--he had a sympathy in the eddying current
that flowed on beneath--in the white cloud that rolled above him.
Happy--for he had no care--he journeyed about from one county to
another. In the hunting season he would be seen lounging about a kennel,
making or renewing his intimacy with the dogs, who knew and loved him;
then he was always ready to carry a drag, to stop an earth, or do a
hundred other of those minor services that are ever wanted. Many who
lived far from a post-town knew the comfort of falling in with poor
'Tipperary Joe.' for such was he called. Not more fleet of foot than
honest in heart, oftentimes was a letter intrusted to his keeping that
with any other messenger would have excited feelings of anxiety. His was
an April-day temperament--ever varying, ever changing. One moment would
he tell, with quivering lip and broken voice, some story of wild and
thrilling interest; the next, breaking suddenly off, he would burst out
into some joyous rant, generally ending in a loud 'tally-ho,' in which
all his enthusiasm would shine forth, and in his glistening eye and
flushed cheek one could mark the pleasure that stirred his heart He knew
every one, not only in this, but in the surrounding counties; and they
stood severally classed in his estimation by their benevolence to the
poor, and their prowess in the hunting-field. These, with him, were the
two great qualities of mankind. The kind man, and the bold rider, made
his beau-ideal of all that was excellent, and it was strange to watch
with what ingenuity he could support his theory.

'There's Burton Pearse--that's the darling of a man!

It's he that's good to the poor, and takes his walls flying. It isn't
a lock of bacon or a bag of meal he cares for--be-gorra, it's not that,
nor a double ditch would ever stop him. Hurroo! I think I'm looking at
him throwing up his whip-hand this way, going over a gate and calling
out to the servant, "Make Joe go in for his dinner, and give
him half-a-crown"--devil a less! And then there's Mr. Power of
Kilfane--maybe your honour knows him? Down in Kilkenny, there. He's
another of them--one of the right sort. I wish you see him facing a
leap--a little up in his stirrups, just to look over and see the ground,
and then--hoo! he's across and away. A beautiful place he has of it, and
an elegant pack of dogs, fourteen hunters in the stable, and as pleasant
a kitchen as ever I broke my fast in. The cook's a mighty nice woman--a
trifle