ception, and for our English eyes!--Poor
people!--English visitors, in this point of view, are horribly expensive
to the Irish. Did you ever hear that, in the last century, or in the
century before the last, to put my story far enough back, so that it
shall not touch anybody living; when a certain English nobleman, Lord
Blank A--, sent to let his Irish friend, Lord Blank B--, know that
he and all his train were coming over to pay him a visit; the Irish
nobleman, Blank B--, knowing the deplorable condition of his castle,
sat down fairly to calculate whether it would cost him most to put the
building in good and sufficient repair, fit to receive these English
visitors, or to burn it to the ground. He found the balance to be in
favour of burning, which was wisely accomplished next day. Perhaps
Killpatrick would have done well to follow this example. Resolve me
which is worst, to be burnt out of house and home, or to be eaten out of
house and home. In this house, above and below stairs, including first
and second table, housekeeper's room, lady's maids' room, butler's room,
and gentleman's, one hundred and four people sit down to dinner every
day, as Petito informs me, beside kitchen boys, and what they call
CHAR-women who never sit down, but who do not eat or waste the less
for that; and retainers and friends, friends to the fifth and sixth
generation, who "must get their bit and their sup;" for, "sure, it's
only Biddy," they say,' continued Lady Dashfort, imitating their Irish
brogue, 'find, "sure, 'tis nothing at all, out of all his honour, my
lord, has. How could he FEEL it! [Feel it: become sensible of it, know
it.] Long life to him! He's not that way: not a couple in all Ireland,
and that's saying a great dale, looks less after their own, nor is more
off-handeder, or open-hearteder, or greater open-house-keepers, NOR
[than] my Lord and my Lady Killpatrick." Now there's encouragement for a
lord and a lady to ruin themselves.'

Lady Dashfort imitated the Irish brogue in perfection; boasted that
'she was mistress of fourteen different brogues, and had brogues for
all occasions.' By her mixture of mimickry, sarcasm, exaggeration,
and truth, she succeeded continually in making Lord Colambre laugh at
everything at which she wished to make him laugh; at every THING, but
not every BODY whenever she became personal, he became serious, or
at least endeavoured to become serious; and if he could not instantly
resume the command o