humour as I entered, but, on seeing me,
immediately came forward, and shook hands with me like an old
acquaintance. By Lord Callonby and the ladies I was welcomed also
with much courtesy and kindness, ad some slight badinage passed upon my
sleeping, in what Lord Kilkee called the "Picture Gallery," which, for
all I knew to the contrary, contained but one fair portrait. I am not a
believer in Mesmer; but certainly there must have been some influence at
work--very like what we hear of "magnetism"--for before the breakfast was
concluded, there seemed at once to spring up a perfect understanding
between this family and myself, which made me feel as much 'chez moi',
as I had ever done in my life; and from that hour I may date an intimacy
which every succeeding day but served to increase.

After breakfast Lord Callonby consigned me to the guidance of his son,
and we sallied forth to deal destruction amongst the pheasants, with
which the preserves were stocked; and here I may observe, 'en passant',
that with the single exception of fox-hunting, which was ever a passion
with me, I never could understand that inveterate pursuit of game to
which some men devote themselves--thus, grouse-shooting, and its
attendant pleasures, of stumping over a boggy mountain from day-light
till dark, never had much attraction for me; and, as to the delights of
widgeon and wild-duck shooting, when purchased by sitting up all night in
a barrel, with your eye to the bung, I'll none of it--no, no! Give me
shooting or angling merely as a divertimento, a pleasant interlude
between breakfast and luncheon-time, when, consigning your Manton to a
corner, and the game keeper "to the dogs," you once more humanize your
costume to take a canter with the daughters of the house; or, if the day
look loweringly, a match of billiards with the men.

I have ever found that the happiest portions of existence are the most
difficult to chronicle. We may--nay, we must, impart our miseries and
annoyances to our many "dear friends," whose forte is sympathy or
consolation--and all men are eloquent on the subject of their woes; not
so with their joys: some have a miser-like pleasure in hoarding them up
for their own private gratification; others--and they are prudent--feel
that the narrative is scarcely agreeable even to their best friends; and
a few, of whom I confess myself one, are content to be happy without
knowing why, and to have pleasant souvenirs, without being ab