in his passion broke a
blood-vessel, and all the law in the land could do nothing in that case.
My lady sent for five physicians, but Sir Murtagh died, and was buried.
She had a fine jointure settled upon her, and took herself away, to the
great joy of the tenantry. I never said anything one way or the other
whilst she was part of the family, but got up to see her go at three
o'clock in the morning.

'It's a fine morning, honest Thady,' says she; 'good-bye to ye.' And
into the carriage she stepped, without a word more, good or bad, or even
half-a-crown; but I made my bow, and stood to see her safe out of sight
for the sake of the family.

Then we were all bustle in the house, which made me keep out of the way,
for I walk slow and hate a bustle; but the house was all hurry-skurry,
preparing for my new master. Sir Murtagh, I forgot to notice, had no
childer [CHILDER: this is the manner in which many of Thady's rank,
and others in Ireland, formerly pronounced the word CHILDREN]; so the
Rackrent estate went to his younger brother, a young dashing officer,
who came amongst us before I knew for the life of me whereabouts I was,
in a gig or some of them things, with another spark along with him,
and led horses, and servants, and dogs, and scarce a place to put any
Christian of them into; for my late lady had sent all the feather-beds
off before her, and blankets and household linen, down to the very
knife-cloths, on the cars to Dublin, which were all her own, lawfully
paid for out of her own money. So the house was quite bare, and my young
master, the moment ever he set foot in it out of his gig, thought all
those things must come of themselves, I believe, for he never looked
after anything at all, but harum-scarum called for everything as if we
were conjurors, or he in a public-house. For my part, I could not bestir
myself anyhow; I had been so much used to my late master and mistress,
all was upside down with me, and the new servants in the servants' hall
were quite out of my way; I had nobody to talk to, and if it had not
been for my pipe and tobacco, should, I verily believe, have broke my
heart for poor Sir Murtagh.

But one morning my new master caught a glimpse of me as I was looking at
his horse's heels, in hopes of a word from him. 'And is that old Thady?'
says he, as he got into his gig: I loved him from that day to this,
his voice was so like the family; and he threw me a guinea out of his
waistcoat-pocket, as he