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There is much truth in the old adage that "misfortunes never come singly;" for, independent of an accumulation of what the tradesmen satirically call "small accounts," which were hourly poured in for my father-in-law and myself, a rumour reached me (through a private channel) that the regiment I belonged to was shortly to proceed to the West Indies. The thought of parting with Kate and my only child, or of taking them to that pestilential climate, was madness. degree of disgrace would attach itself to an officer, leaving a corps under orders to embark for foreign service, I without further deliberation made up my mind to send in my papers, sell my commission, and invest the produce of it in an annuity upon the joint lives of my wife and myself. Within a few hours this step was taken, much to the delight of Kate and the O'Crohons, who felt that, under our altered circumstances, the army was not the profession for an almost ruined man. Although the purchase-money for all my commissions had been derived from some property left me by a great-uncle, I thought it respectful to inform my father of the step I was about to take, and in return received a gracious reply, approving of my decision. Here, as I afterwards ascertained, the mother's feelings had broken out. She, kind soul, had dictated the letter, having heard from Colonel Warburton of the destiny of the regiment. It was to that true friend, the gallant veteran, that I was also indebted for my information. He had written to say that, as a married man, I should find the West Indies, with the prospect of removing from there to the East, a most trying climate; that wives and children ought to be left at home; concluding by advising me, if I proposed to continue in the army, to effect an exchange. Through the unwearied zeal of Mr. Cranley, arrangements were made with O'Crohon's creditors, the property in England and Ireland was placed in trust, while an annuity of a few hundreds a year was granted to the owner of Mahala. Out of this small pittance, that warm-hearted man placed an allowance of two hundred pounds aside annually for my wife; this, in addition to the annuity derived from the sale of my commission, and the remains of my

legacy, brought me in-after all my own liabilities were settled-an income of five hundred a year. The important question was now to be settled as to the future residence of the O'Crohons and ourselves. We had decided upon living near one another, but in separate establishments, by which means we hoped to have unlimited intercourse, free from the clashing of interests which too often takes place when families not bound by ties of consanguinity live together. The merits of England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, France, and Belgium, were duly discussed, and, as usual, some drawbacks were found to exist in each of these countries. After an animated question, a vote for the environs of London was carried nem. con., the advantages held out, being quiet society, the power of living beyond the pale of visitors, medical advice always at hand, amusements within reach, and last, not least, that great desideratum of not being pestered by that horror of horrors--visits of country neighbours. In due course of time Mr. Cranley-who had returned to London, where he carried on a thriving business as solicitor, and who by a fortuitous chance had been called to Dublin during the difficulties that attended O'Crohon-wrote to inform me that he had seen two moderate-sized villas in the neighbourhood of the Regent's Park, which he thought would suit my father-in-law and myself, and hoped that upon our arrival in town we would make his house at Highgate our temporary home. Anxious to leave Dublin, where, as is the common lot of mankind, we had felt the truth of the motto that heads this chapter, and desirous of remaining in privacy until Fortune again smiled upon us, we shortly took our departure, and, after a prosperous journey, reached the once celebrated but now deserted Highgate Tunnel. Here Mr. Cranley's carriage was in waiting to convey us to Ivy Lodge, so his villegiatura was called. A most welcome reception from the worthy man of law, his wife, and only son, immediately placed us at our ease, rendering the hours passed there among those to which I ever refer with pleasure and gratitude. The two following days were devoted to inspecting our new domains, which we found entirely came up to the descriptions we had received of them; and before eight-and-forty hours had elapsed, leases for five, seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years were made out for us by our inestimable conveyancer. The two villas were situated within a few hundred yards of each other, on the south bank of the Regent's Canal. The larger one, which I named "Katherine Cottage," was a modest, unpretending edifice, with a small green plot in the front and a garden in the rear; it contained two rooms on each floor, and one over the offices, which we immediately designated as the nursery, The smaller building-to which O'Crohon stood sponsor for, as "Little Mahala"-was what the shoemakers term a size smaller than the one I had selected. To these respective tenements the following parties shortly afterwards removed-Mr., Mrs., and Miss O'Crohon, Mrs. Dunshauglin, and Larry Kinnegad forming one detachment; the other consisting of Mr., Mrs., and bambino Atherley, and Mr. and Mrs. O'Shea, whose marriage had been solemnized a few days before we quitted the land of their nativity. After the novelty of our new ménage had in some degree worn off, I could not help remarking that Kate occasionally appeared low-spirited; it was not a settled melancholy, but one that seemed to take hold of her, despite of the exertions that she made to cast it off. Upon these occasions she would send for her darling off

spring; and in its caresses, amidst its sunny smiles, would the fond mother regain her wonted composure. The feeling that my wife was unhappy produced a similar effect upon my spirits; I became dull, and often moody, brooding over that truthful remark-" There is a chilling air around poverty, that often kills affection that was not nursed in it. If we would make Love our household God, we had best secure him a comfortable roof." The thought was madness; and I then turned rapidly over in my mind how I could improve my wife's condition. My first impulse was to throw myself at the feet of my parents, claim their countenance and support. The mental struggle was conflicting. Upon one side pride would hold its sway; on the other I saw Kate dull and dejected. While hesitating what to do, the object of my love and solicitude passed the window, nestling in her bosom her young and innocent baby, a tear trickled down the mother's cheek; in a moment my resolution was made, I sat down and penned a contrite letter to my father. No sooner had I concluded this appeal to parental affection, than a weight seemed to be removed from my heart; I felt that inward satisfaction which, despite of deep-rooted grief, will ever raise the drooping spirit. I joined Kate with increased cheerfulness; this met with a responsive feeling on her part. The evening was one of the happiest we had passed in our altered position. Anxious, as far as lay in my power, to save my wife a pang, I had kept from her the fact of my having written to my father, fearing that an unfavourable answer would be painful and galling to her feelings. To carry out my plan, I made a point of walking out every morning to meet the postman; for a week my labour was in vain, but on the eighth day the anxiously expected letter was placed in my hands. I lost no time in breaking the seal; and, perusing its contents, it proved to be one of the most unsatisfactory productions imaginable. It began by conveying to me in courteous, although not cordial terms, the gratification my parents had experienced at receiving so proper a letter" from me; it expressed a hope that the scandalous reports that had been circulated upon the subject of the O'Crohons, and the disastrous ones relative to his ruin, were exaggerated or unfounded; it inveighed generally against early and imprudent marriages; it pointed out the evils of an idle life; it indulged in severe philippics against the unconscientious conduct of those who by reckless extravagance ruined the prospects of their children. Although upon the "qui capit, ille facit," or cap-fitting principle, every remark was an unpalatable home-truth, there was no point which I could lay hold of, to cavil against; nor could I find any expression to arouse my anger, and thus give a safety-valve to my feelings. The letter concluded by saying the family solicitor would wait upon me, to make arrangements for an allowance suitable to my rank and station. A few lines from my mother, informing me that she had ordered a cap and pelisse for her grandchild, who she hoped was thriving, with a few kind wishes for my welfare, completed the correspondence. In neither case had my parents made the slightest allusion to the partner of my choice. The allowance and the present were the ingredients by which the bitter pill was to be gilded; the smooth phraseology furnished the small patch of courtplaster which was to be placed upon the edge of a wide and acrid wound. While deliberating over the subject, and considering what best I could do to explain the inconsistency of my mother in thus noticing the off

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spring of one she treated with so much cold indifference, the door opened, and Kate rushed into the room, her countenance beamed with smiles. "How kind, dearest Ernest," she exclaimed-" such a beautiful cap and dress! But how could you go to so great an expense?"

In rather a confused manner, I replied that I was about to inform her that the present was from Lady Atherley, who had taken the deepest interest in our welfare; that my father had made arrange ments for our future allowance; that I trusted, ere long, they would receive us with the affection and consideration she so richly merited, and which my marriage with her ought not to have forfeited. A slight curl of the lip, a bright but evanescent blush, a look of anger from her dark fiery eyes, proved too well that a chord had been struck which jarred her whole frame; she however soon recovered her wonted calmness, and, in accents of kindness, ejaculated—

"How disappointed I am, dearest Ernest !"

I clasped the affectionate wife to my heart of hearts, and felt that, although I had sacrificed father, mother, and home, I still was happy in the selection my heart had made. For the next month everything went on in the usual tenour of its way, when an event occurred which completely undermined my wife's peace of mind and my own. Despite of all Mr. Cranley's exertions, it was rendered necessary that O'Crohon should absent himself from England. It is true that his own legal debts were in due course of payment; but unfortunately, in his reckless days, he had given his name to bills and promissory notes, which were daily becoming due. To avoid this "pressure from without," he was strongly urged to cross the water, and remain in the modern Alsatia-Calais or Boulogne-until his affairs were settled. Acting upon this advice, the O'Crohons parted with the lease of their villa, and proceeded to Boulogne. Kate and myself were therefore left almost destitute, without friend or relative. We were now in the suicidal month of November, and for three days London had been shrouded with fogs, the substance and colour of pea-soup. During this period, to leave the house, except on urgent business, was quite out of the question; indeed, it was almost impracticable. Kate and myself had both suffered from depression of spirits; and, had we been living in the Palace of Truth, we must both have admitted that the dulness of the atmosphere had not alone affected our temperament, but our tempers. She, poor creature, who was a great reader of novels and romances, had been bitterly disappointed at having arrived at a most startling incident, which wound up the second volume of a soul-thrilling narrative, without the possibility of getting the remaining portion of the work. I, too, unable to take my daily constitutional stroll, became captious and irritable. Upon the fourth morning the vapour had dispersed, and, by way of an agreeable change, heavy rains had set into adopt a common phrase, the elements poured forth "cats and dogs." Independent of the weather-which was bad enough to fill any one with ennui, megrims, or "blue devils"-everything at home had gone wrong. The kitchen, nursery, and drawing-room chimneys smoked; the sweep who had been sent for, made a prodigious dirt, without "curing" the windpipe. It was washing-day! Mrs. Kane, the charwoman, who assisted upon such occasions, had indulged a little too freely in that fatal spirit extracted from the juniper-berries, and had scalded her foot; Betsy, the maid-of-all-work, had had an unpleasant

altercation, or, as she termed it, the "disagreeables," with the cook ; while the culinary artist had revenged herself in a "shindy" with the butcher's boy, who would not bring the meat in time. Mrs. O'Shea had fallen out with "Phelim, the darlin'," having overheard the following remark made by her "better-half" to the milk-maid-“ Sich a pair o' temptations as your lips, barrin' your eyes, I did'nt see this many a day. I can't go without tasting them." O'Shea himself had vented his anger on the baker's lad. Kate was-no, not cross, but a little tired and put out at having to sit up with the baby, who was suffering under what my old acquaintance, Dr. Slow, would have termed a severe catarrh ; and I was what the Americans term "awfully riled" at the concatenation of untoward events. Anxious to procure for my wife the third volume of “Zemindar and Yarou, or the Fatal Pass of the Kinikin-junga," I drew

pair of waterproof shooting boots, and, enveloping myself in a Mackintosh cloak, braved the elements. Before leaving the house, I took the precaution-hitherto an almost unnecessary one-of saying, "Not at home," in case any visitors should call.

"Then perhaps, your honour," said Phelim, "you'll be after allowing me jist to step down to get the chique cashd?"

"Certainly," I responded.

And away flew my nimble-footed Mercury, happy to emancipate himself for a time from the broils that were in this case figuratively, as well as literally, going on in the kitchen. Upon reaching the circulating library in Holles-street, the volume, as a matter of course, was expected home every moment; I therefore extended my walk to Charing Cross, where I had some business to transact, and upon my return was happy to find the book had just been sent in. Seizing the prize, which I knew Kate was anxiously expecting, I made the best of my way back to the Regent's Park; and, upon nearing the villa, was greatly surprised at seeing a remarkably well-appointed "cab" drawn up at the small garden entrance. Despite of the splashed and drenched state of the vehicle and horse-for the rain blew about in torrents, and the slush was many inches deep--it was evident at first sight that the "turn-out" belonged to some leader of ton. The build of the carriage, the fine blood-like form of the animal, the neatness of the harness, free from all gaudy ornaments, the dress of the diminutive "tiger" who held the reins, could not be mistaken. As I was about to enter the gate which led to the servants' entrance, so that in the muddy state of my habiliments I might pass in unobserved by my unknown visitor, I was accosted by the freeand-easy urchin

"I say, old feller! if you belong to the willa, I wish you'd give my master a hint that this aint no sunshiny job, to be waiting here for more than a hour."

"Your master?" I responded.

"What's his name?"

"I wish you may get it, my cove. When we is out on the sly in these 'ere parts, we never gives no names.

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I looked daggers at the audacious young varlet, who, nothing daunted, and seeing me take out my latch-key, continued

"So you're at home in the generally useful line, I presume, old boy? Butler, walet, flunky, coachman, groom, and sarvant of all-work-ten pound a year and no perquisites.'

I was furious. The liveried urchin proceeded

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