Wild sports of the west : with legendary tales, and local sketches

Front matter

WILD SPORTS

OF THE WEST.

EY THE

Preface

TO THE FIRST EDITION.

Some explanation may be necessary for obtruding upon the public the private details of a sportsman’s life, and particularly when the scene of his exploits is laid within “ the four seas of Britain.” In the cus¬ tomary course of field adventure, few besides the indi¬ vidual concerned are much interested in the successes and disappointments he experiences; and rural sports are, in all their general incidents, so essentially alike, as to render their minute description almost invariably a dull and unprofitable record.

Circumstances, however, may occasionally create an interest which in ordinary cases would be wanting. From local connexions, a field almost untrodden by any but himself, was opened to the writer of these Sketches. He was thrown into an unfrequented district, with a primitive people to consort with. With some advantages to profit from the accident, a remote and semi-civilized region was offered to his observation ; and although within a limited distance of his Majesty’s mail-coach, a country was thus disclosed, as little known to the multitude as the interior

A 2

IV

Preface To The First Edition

of Australasia; and where, excepting some adventurous grouse-shooter, none had viewed its highlands or mingled with its inhabitants.

That the scenic and personal sketches are faithful, the reader is assured ; some were written on the spot, and others traced from vivid recollection. Those with wdiom the author shot these wild moors, or fished the waters, will best estimate the fidelity of the descriptions ; and one valued friend, though now beneath another sun, will probably recall the days he spent by “ fell and flood,” and bring to memory those light and joyous nights when he caroused in a mountain bivouac, and rested in a moor¬ land hut.

Of the actors in the following scenes, some are still living, while others are no more. The Colonel, that best and honestest of boon companions, sleeps with his fathers ; and old John and the Otter-killer have gone the way of all flesh. The Priest, mine honoured friend,’’ I rejoice to say, is still healthy and vigorous ; in his wild but happy retirement he holds “ the noiseless tenour of his way,” exercises hospitality most liberally to the stranger, and throws forty feet of silk and hair better than any artist in the empire. Last of the dramatis personas,” Hennessey is in full force, and “ mutato nomine, may still be found in Ballycroy.

With regard to the tales and legends narrated in the succeeding pages, the former were told just as they are introduced. “ The Blind Seal” is known to be substan¬ tially true — I have heard it from many, and never knew its veracity impugned. My lamented friend was himself

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

V the principal actor in ‘‘ the Night Attack and he, poor fellow, was exactly the man who, in an affray or a carouse, might be depended on. The heroes of the “ Gold Snuff¬ box” are alive and merry, and long may they continue so ! for truer friends and “ better company ” never listened to the “chimes at midnight.” “ Mr. Dawkins” is, I believe, engaged in seeking, through Doctors Commons, to be relieved “ e vinculo matrimonii,” — and “ Mr. Burke” duly announced among the last arrivals in the Sydney Gazette.

Respecting the legendary stories, I have no pledge to offer for their authenticity, — old Antony believed them to the letter — I have given them nearly in his own words, and I may say with Sir Walter Scott,

“ I cannot tell how the truth may be,

I say the tale as ’twas said to me.”

“ The Legend of Knock-a-thample” remains as the Otter-killer related it ; but with “ Rose Roche” I con¬ fess to have taken liberties, in suppressing a portion of her flirtation with the “black-eyed page,” which, although, upon the lady’s part, I feel convinced, was perfectly pla¬ tonic, yet by uncharitable constructions might be tortured into something like indiscretion.

If T have undervalued those rural recreations in which many a worthy citizen sometimes dissipates, I hope my contempt for his avocations will be ascribed to the true cause, namely, that local advantages have spoiled my taste and rendered me fastidious. He who can shoot grouse upon the moor, will spend little time in killing pigeons

VI

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

from the trap; the angler who in a morning hooks some half-score salmon, would reckon it but sorry amusement to dabble in a pond. To a Galway rider, the Epping hunt would be a bore, and he would probably treat it with the same contumely that one of this redoubted body did hare-hunting, by riding to the hounds in morocco slip¬ pers, and carrying an open umbrella to protect him from the sun.

As T have casually named “ an honoured name,” I lament that it was not his fortune to have visited those interesting scenes, where I have been so long a useless wanderer. The wild features and wilder associations of that romantic and untouched country, would have offered him a fresh field whereon to exercise his magic pencil — and many a tale and legend still orally handed down, but which in a few years must of necessity be forgotten, would have gained immortality from the touch of “ the mighty master.” But alas I the creations of his splendid imagi¬ nation will no more delight an enchanted world. The vvand is broken, the spell is over, the lamp of life is nearly exhausted — and even now, Scotland may be mourning for the mightiest of her gifted sons.

As a votive offering, these Volumes are inscribed to that matchless genius, by an humble, but enthusiastic admirer of Sir Walter Scott.

Sydenham, September 12, 1832.

Letter V

Castlebar. — Newport. — Departure from Christendom. — Progress into Terra Incognita. — Roads and Scenery. — Mulranny. — Passage down the Inlet. — Incidents. — Lodge in the Wilds of Erris. — Description of the Establish¬ ment . 22

Letter VI

Periodicals. — Cockney Sports and Sportsmen. — Mountain Angler and his Attendant. — Fishing-tackle. — Antony the Otter-killer. — Visit the River. — Flies. — Hooking my first Salmon. — Return to the Lodge. — Sporting Authors. — Sir Humphry Davy. — Colonel Hawker. — Salmonia. — Criticism. 27

Letter VII

Symptoms of a coming Storm. — A Sportsman’s Dinner. — Old John. — Pattigo.

— Gale_comes on.— Shawn a [tra buoy. — Seals. — The Blind Seal . 34

Letter VIII

A wet day. — Fly-tying. — Piscatory Disquisitions. — The Tinker, — Lessons in the “ Gentle Art.” — An unexpectedAlly . 40 vin

CONTENTS.

LETTER IX. Page

Sporting Topography of Mayo.— Hunting Country. — Fox Covers. — Lakes, Rivers, and Fish. — A domiciliary Visit. — Revenue Foray.— Capture of drunken Distillers. — Alarm. — Midnight Meditations. — Angling Excursion. Goolamore. — Salmon-fishing. — English and Irish hooks. — Limerick prefer¬ able to all others . 45

Letter X

Salmon. — Fishing described. — Draughting. — ^Fishing precarious. — Change of season and condition. — Poaching. — Private Distillation. — Size and vreight of Salmon. — Sir H. Davy. — Migration of Salmon. — Natural History. — Anecdotes and experiments. — Lernmae Salmoneae . 50

Letter XI

Mullet. — Preparations for Mullet-fishing. — Seals. — Anecdotes. — ’The Red Dwarf. — His mode of Killing Seals. — Catching a Tartar. — Pitching Mullet Nets. — Excursion on the Island. — A wild Guide. — Coursing. — Comparison between English and Irish Greyhounds. — Take of Mullet. — Return. — Anec¬ dotes of Mullet Fishing. — The Homicide . 55

Letter XII

Angling. — Fish found in Mayo. — Peasantry. — Their mode of fishing. — The Pooka. — Description and use. — Pike and Trout — Their size. — Perch — Their fecundity. — Trout destroyed. — Greater Lakes described — Subter¬ raneous communication between them. — Lesser Lakes — Their Fish. — Lake of Derreens — Its Trout extinct. — Lake of Castlebar . 63

Letter XIII

Nineteenth of August. — Preparations for the Mountains. — Order of March. —

A Cook broiled to death. — Interruption of a Funeral. — Drowned Shepherd.

— Grouse-shooting. — Evening Compotation. — Morning. — Locale of a Shooter’s cabin. — Life in the Mountains. — The Red Deer. — Return to the Hut. — Luxury of a Cold Bath . 67

Letter XIV

Ball opens. — Moonlight. — Mountain scenery. — Old Antony. — Adventure with the Fairies. — Ball continues. — The Otter-hunter’s history. — Ball concludes.

— The Pater-o-pee . 75

Letter XV

Moon looks suspicious. — Heavy fall of rain. — River flooded. — Sporting Writers. — Criticism on Hawker. — Originality of the Colonel. — His Outfit of a Wild-fowl shooter. — Samuel Singer and his gun . 81

Letter XVI

Flood subsides. — My Cousin’s Henchmen — Their description. — Post-bag arrives. — Messenger belated in the Mountains. — The Fairy Glen. — Herd of Red Deer. — Their Destruction by Poachers. — Gradual Decrease. — Diffi¬ culties in continuing them. — Anecdotes. — Rearing the Fawns. — Sterility when domesticated — Red Deer in parks. — The tame Hind. — The Tyrawly Stag.— Skill requisite in shooting Deer.— Curious Anecdote . 86

CONTENTS.

IX

LETTER XVII. Page

An Alarm. — Deceptive appearance of the Weather. — A blank fishing day. — Recovery of the Setter. — Hydrophobia. — Melancholy Anecdote. — Loss of a Kennel. — Strange apathy of Irish servants. — Extraordinary preservation... 92

Letter XVIII

Preparations for visiting Achil. — Embarkation and passage to Dugurth. — Fishing. — Sea-fowl shooting. — Meeting the Lugger. — Picturesque appear¬ ance of the Vessel. — Our landing. — Coast-guard Watch-house. — Slieve More.

— Grouse scarce — Rabbit-shooting. — Interior of theWatch-house. — Culinary proceedings. — The Dutchman. — Morning and ahead-ache. — A Sea-bath. —

The Eagle’s aerie. — Curious anecdote of these birds. — Grouse-shooting. — Demolition of a Pack. — Rock-Fishing. — Dangerous employment. — Fatal Accident. — John Dory. — A temperate Evening . 99

Letter XIX

Prepare to leave Achil. — Visit to the Eagle’s Cliff — Attempts to destroy these birds — Their depredations — Partiality for Black Fowls — Destroy Fish. — Anecdote of an Eagle and Salmon — Exterminate Hares. — Their mode of coursing and catching Salmon. — Foxes, numerous and destructive.

— Smaller birds of prey. — Run to Inniskea. — Devilawn. — Tarmon. — Difficult coast to land on. — Woman and Curragh. — Rabbit Shooting. — Local Sketches.

— Twilight Scenery. — Dangerous Idiot.^ — Whisky — Its excellence. — Copper Stills. — Island seldom visited by the Revenue. — Character of the Islanders.

— Particular in burying their Dead.— Prone to Litigation. — The Lawsuit ... 106

Letter XX

Signs of Fish. — Mackerel. — Spillet-fishing. — Seal and Mermaids. — Anecdote.

— The Bull’s Mouth. — Preservation of a Ship. — The Fox and Cruiser. —

The Lodge in a consternation. — Arrival. — The Colonel’s Portmanteau. — Robbing, and its consequences . 116

Spring Tides.— Hennessey and the Portmanteau.— Spillet-fishing.— Coal¬ fishing.— Mackerel.— Sea-fowl.— A Failure.— Preserving Gunpowder.— An Explosion.— Another Accident.— A House burned.— The Dinner Signal ... 114

X

LETTER XXV. Page

A calm Night. — Sand-eel Fishing. — Dangerous to the Fair Sex. — Cockles. — Lobsters. — Crab.s. — Scallops. — Oysters. — Punt adrift. — My Brother’s Shoes,

— Seal surprised. — Incident. — Gun burst. — Birmingham Guns. — Percus¬ sion Locks. — London Makers. — Barrel-making. — Gun-making. — Inferior Guns. — Shooting Accident . 151

Letter XXVI

Bad Roads. — Native Horses. — Cairns. — Bridge of Ballyveeney. — Our beat. — Midday on the Moors. — Hints to Grouse-shooters. — Finding Game. — Wild Scenery. — The Ruined Chapel.— The Well. — Act of Penance. — Storm in the Mountains. — The Deserted Burying-place. — Our Return. — The Colonel’s method of Rabbit-shooting. — A Disappointment . 160

Letter XXVIII

Visit to the Mountain hut. — The Colonel. — An Argument and a Wager. — No honesty among Anglers. — State of the River, — Mogh-a-dioul. — Father Andrew’s Flies. — Splendid Scenery. — Its effect upon me and my companion. —Beautiful Pool. — The Otter. — A curious Scene. — The Colonel’s troubles. — Wager decided. — A new Bet. — A Salmon killed. — Conversation. — The Colonel out-manoeuvred . 175

Letter XXX

The Otter-killer’s return.— Craniology. — Superstitions. — Sea-horse. — Master- Otter. — Anecdotes of it. — Ghosts and Fairies — Their influence upon Men and Animals. — Cure of Witchcraft. — Holy Lakes, — Lough Keirawn. — Its Butter Fishery. — The Faragurta — Its causes, imaginary and real. — Cures and Cases.— Swearing. — Comparative value upon the Book, the Vestment, and the Skull. — The clearing of Miss Currigan. — An Uncatholic Cook . 191

Letter XXXI

Fresh Arrivals. — The Priest’s Reception. — The Lodge alarmed. — Preparations for Deer-stalking.— State of the Garrison. — The Mountain Lake. — The ‘ Peasant’sAdventure.— Carrig-a-binniogh.— The Ascent.— Prospect from the Summit. — The Ravine and Red-deer. — A Highland Ambuscade. — The Catastrophe . 198

Letter XXXII

Deer brought home. — Dinner. — Gastronomic reflections. — Grouse Soup. — Roasted Salmon. — Cooking, pour et contre. — Carouse commences. — Symp¬ toms of inebriety. — Night in the hills. — Coffee al fresco. — Temperance Society. — A Bacchanalian Group. — Auld lang syne.— Borrowing a Congrega¬ tion.— The Company dispersed . 208

CONTENTS.

XI

LETTER XXXIII. Page

Dancing kept up. — Effects of Poteen on the Company. — Ball ends. — Rainy Night. — Morning. — Pattigo. — A long Swim. — Breakfast. — An Incident. — Fox-catcher bitten by a Wild-cat. — Ferocity of that Animal. — Anecdotes of them. — Housecats frequently run wild. — Destructive to Rabbit-warrens. — Cat-killing extraordinary.^The Deer-skin. — Snow fatal to the Red -deer. — Anecdote of a Hind and Fawn. — Blistered Foot. — Simple Remedy. — IMy Descent by “ The Mother’s side.” . 210

Letter XXXV

Mountain Loughs. — Trout — Their varieties. — Otter haunt. — The Upper Lake. — Goose-fishing. — Weather breaks. — Prospect of leaving the Cabin. — Traits of Character. — Crimes. — Abduction. — Causes. — Murder. — Why pre¬ valent. — Distillation; its extent and cause. — Anecdote of a Peasant’s ruin 240

Letter XXXVI

Day fixed for our departure.— Party separate. — Last day’s shooting. — The secret Valley. — The Fishers. — Curious incident. — Dinner. — An Alarm. — Night search for the Otter-killer. — The old man found.— His recovery. — Narrative of the accident . 247

Letter XXXVII

The Otter-killer carried to the Lodge. — Fishing homewards. — Angling closes for the season. — Remarks. — Feelings on the occasion. — Smuggler appears.

— Landing a cargo. — Captain Matthews. — The Jane. — Cutter stands out to sea. — Hooker on arock. — Traveller alarmed. — Anecdote of an Englishman 253

Memoir of a Gentleman who would not do for Galway . 2G2

Letter Xxxviii

Morning Alarm. — Death of the Otter-killer — General Grief. — Night Excur¬ sion. — Herring-fishery. — Our Reception. — Beal-fires. — The Wake. — The Funeral. — Anecdote of a Dog. — A Deserted House . 283

Letter XXXIX

Weather changes. — Symptoms of Winter. — Animal appearances. — Night passage of Barnacles. — Grey Plover. — Hints for shooting Plover. — Wild Geese. — Swans. — Ducks. — Burke transported. — Evening at the Lodge. — • Feminine Employments . 290

Letter XL

Colonel leaves us. — Last visit to Achil. — Snipes and Woodcocks — Their migration. — Solitary Snipe. — Cock-shooting in Achil. — Mountain Covers. —

Cock-shooting; its accidents. — Anecdotes. — An unlucky Companion . 296

LETTER XLI. Dull Evening. — Memoir of Hennessey . 302

Xll

CONTEXTS.

LETTER XLII. Page

My Departure fixed. — Coast suited to an Ornithologist. — Godsend. — An OceanWaif. — My last day. — Coursing — Size of Hares. — Fen-shooring — Kill a Bittern. — Castle of Doona. — Fall of the Tower. — Netting Rabbits. — Reflections. — Morning. — Passage through the Sound. — Hennessey. — Depar¬ ture from the kingdom of Connaught . 309

LETTER XLTII.

Moral and Physical Condition of the West — Past and Present . 315

“ LETTER XLIV.

Hunting. — Men. — Horses and Hounds. — Game.— Conclusion . 325

ILLUSTRATIONS

WILD SPOETS OF THE WEST.

Letter I. Autobiography

London, July 1st, 1829.

Notwithstanding its dust and desertion I am still lurking in the metropolis. The heat has become intoletable — yesterday, I imagined myself in Calcutta — for never but in the land of curries and red pepper did I experience any thing so oppressive.

I breakfasted this morning at the Club-house. My air and attitude, as I caught a glimpse of them in a concave mirror, looked exquisitely disconsolate. Never was mortal more ennuyh than I. Town has become a desert — the world has abandoned it by general consent — the streets feel as if they had been recently fanned by a sirocco ; and of divers unhappy beings whom I encountered in my walk from Grafton-street to St. James’s, none seemed at ease but a bilious gentleman from Bombay, and the French fellow who exhibits in the oven. The thermometer in a shaded corner of the room is stationary at 82. To remain lono-er

V O

here would be suicidal ; but, where to go — whither to fly — alas ! I know not.

Would that you were near me, then should I be certain of sympathy and counsel — for at this moment, there is not a more persecuted gentleman in the king’s dominions. But I will make a clean breast — and to render my confessions explanatory, I must favour you with some particulars of my private history.

B

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

As autobiograpliers enjoy a prescriptive privilege of exhibiting their ancestors, I shall take the liberty of intro¬ ducing my papa. In his twenty-second year, Mr. Hector O’Brien was a bold Lieutenant of Grenadiers in his Majesty’s 50th Foot, then distinguished by the flattering title of “ The Dirty Half Hundred.”* My father was a strapping fellow as ever wore a wing, kept a showy horse, and was decidedly the best dancer in the regiment. Being quartered in the vicinity of Bath he attended the assemblies, and “ ill double quick” managed to effect a conquest. The lady had a fortune and my father required one. Unluckily, she had a brother’s consent to gain — and on being con¬ sulted, he was unmoved by importunity, and deaf to “ every plea of love.” The case was hopeless. Mr. Wamsley disliked Ireland, detested military men, and above all things, abominated “ The Dirty Half Hundred.”

To account for the gentleman’s antipathy to this cele¬ brated corps, it will be necessary to remark, that the regiment was then afflicted with a mad Major. His, the Major’s delight, lay in drinking port wine and slaying pheasants. Mr. Wamsley, on the contrary, preferred water and preserved game. The Major beat up preserves without remorse, and deforced keepers who, though good men and true, prudently declined joining issue with mad Majors and double-barrelled guns. Now Mr. Wamsley resisting an invasion of his rights, applied to the Justice for redress, whereas Major O’Farrell considered that a reference to the pistol would be much more gentlemanly — a deadly feud was the consequence, and Mr. Wamsley was closely blockaded within his park walls by the military delinquent. Fortunately for all concerned, the regiment got the route; Mr. Wamsley recovered his liberty, and his detestation of the gallant 50th only ended with his life.

But his sister held a very different opinion respecting the merits of the brave “ Half Hundred.” She was devoted to the Lieutenant of Grenadiers, and the route hurried matters to a crisis. The result may be anticipated. De¬ spising park walls and surly keepers, Mr. O’Brien overcame every difficulty — and with the assistance of a garden

* From their black facings, the 50th received this sobriquet.

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

o

ladder, the mad Major, and his double-barrelled gun, he carried olf the lady, and at Gretna they became “ one flesh.”

Mr. Wamsley was irritated beyond the possibility of being appeased. Ten thousand pounds, which his wife possessed without the control of her brother, enabled my father to leave the army, and settle on his hereditary estate in Roscommon — and there he hunted, shot, fished, and farmed, and lived just as Irish gentlemen lived some thirty years ago.

I was the only issue of the marriage. All communication had ceased between my parents and Mr. Wamsley — and eighteen years passed away, and no appearance of abated displeasure had ever been evinced by this implacable relative. I left a public school for the Dublin University, was destined for the church, and had nearly completed my college course, when an unforeseen event changed my prospects and profession. It was the death of both my parents within the brief space of a month.

My father’s affairs were in great disorder — his estate was heavily embarrassed, and if his debts were paid, it was ascertained that I should be left nearly destitute. The intelligence reached Mr. Wamsley, and to the astonish¬ ment of all acquainted with his unrelenting animosity to my deceased parents, a letter was received from him, in¬ viting me to visit him at his magnificent place Lalworth Castle.

The invitation was of course accepted. I arrived, and found him a stern disagreeable old man. My first appear¬ ance was against me — for the resemblance I bore to my father was most striking, and it seemed to recall my uncle’s long-cherished prejudices. He abruptly asked me on the succeeding morning, “ What course of life I had selected?” I replied, “ That the army appeared best adapted to my taste and broken fortunes.” His only observation was, “ Be it so ;” and here this laconic conversation ended.

That evening, Mr. Wamsley wrote to his neighbour Lord Ulverston. The peer was his debtor to a large amount,

and generally trafficked with him for his borough of - bury.

My uncle’s request was promptly attended to. Lord Ul-

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

verston stood well at the Horse Guards ; and in a few weeks, to my unfeigned satisfaction and surprise, I was gazetted to a Cornetcy in the Blues.

But my joy at this event was but of short duration. The miserly disposition of my uncle took alarm at the large outlay attendant on entering an expensive corps. Each hundred was doled out with painful reluctance, and the knowledge that a certain annual allowance would be re¬ quisite for my support, made him still more wretched. I joined the regiment ; my subsidies — generally drafts for a paltry fifty— were “ few and far between.” To hold a certain place in society, with an income incompetent to its expenses, is a state of inexpressible misery. Gradually I became embarrassed, and in two years found it necessary to exchange from the Blues to a Light Cavalry regiment, then stationed in the East Indies. My uncle made no objection ; he was tired of what he termed supplying my boundless extravagance — bade me a cold farewell — and his parting words, as I stepped into the carriage, were a request that I would “ write but seldom, as postage from the East, his lawyer told him, was enormous.”

I obeyed him to the letter, I only wrote once, and that was conveying an entreaty that he would purchase a majority likely to become vacant ; I got a coarse refusal, and thus our correspondence terminated. For four years T never heard from him, and had nearly forgotten that I had left a relation behind me.

I was surprised, however, at this distant period with a letter worded in his stiff and peculiar style. It briefly stated that his health was indifferent, and that he would recommend me to return to Europe with as little delay as possible.

This recommendation was any thing but gratifying. I liked India well enough — the climate agreed with me — my health was unimpaired — the mess was good — the regiment gentlemanly — and better still, I could live most comfortably upon my pay. I felt, however, that my uncle’s invitation should not be neglected ; applied for leave ; succeeded, and made immediate preparations for a return to Europe. ?ily brother officers congratulated me on my good fortune

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

in so speedily revisiting my native country ; but to me it was a subject of regret. I was leaving pleasant quarters, cheerful society, and comparative independence, to become a slave to the caprice and ill-humour of a morose and sple¬ netic invalid.

It was late in December when I landed at Portsmouth — the voyage had been remarkably quick, and without delay I started for my uncle’s residence, and in the gloom of a wet wintry evening re-entered the gates of Lai worth Park. I looked down the long vista of splendid elms, but in the twilight the house Was not visible ; not a candle glanced from a window, and no indication of its being inhabited appeared about this melancholy mansion. The postboy stopped — I alighted, ran up the steps and rang gently — no one answered — 1 rang again — louder yet — and a step came hastily over the oaken floor. The old porter at last ap¬ proached, cautiously affixed the chain, opened a few inches of the door, and raised his candle suspiciously to examine the late visiter. Instantly recollecting me, he uttered a suppressive exclamation of astonishment, removed the fast¬ enings, and muttered, “ Thank God, it is himself!” and, as he admitted me, whispered that my uncle was not ex¬ pected to survive till midnight.

In silence I was conducted to a back drawing-room, where, on a large old-fashioned sofa the dying man was laid. The porter advanced before, and in a low voice notiffed my arrival. The news appeared to gratify the invalid ; he turned his dim eyes to the spot where I stood waiting for permission to advance. “ Are you there, Frank!” he said in a feeble voice — “ Ha, ha, ha! it was touch and go with you !” and he uttered a weak and sar¬ castic laugh. — “ Call Doctor Dodwell and the lawyer — desire them to bring the other will — and tell Moore and Hubert to attend to witness it.” While he gave these orders I gazed on the wasted features of the dying miser, and there was a strange expression of stern satisfaction visible on his countenance, as his cold glance rested flxedly on me. Immediately the doctor, solicitor, and witnesses entered the room. — “ Raise me up,” he said to the ancient domestic, his personal attendant. It was done, and he

AUTOBIOGKAPHY.

motioned to the solicitor to unfold the parchment. Care¬ fully he passed his eye over the surface to assure himself that the document was the one he required, and having ascertained the fact, he pointed to a pen. With difficulty he placed it in his trembling fingers, and with a painful exertion, affixed his signature to the deed — then looking at the witnesses as they annexed their names — “ This is my last will and testament/’ he said with a feeble emphasis, “ and thus do I revoke all others !” — then turning to me, while a ghastly smile overspread his face, “ Half an hour later would have served hospitals and almshouses, Francis!” he leaned himself back and expired without a struggle.

For a few moments we were not aware that he was dead ; the strength with which his last remark was uttered led us at first to believe that he had reclined in consequence of the exertion. In a few minutes the physician took his hand and sought for a pulse, but in vain ; he raised the eyelid and applied a candle to the fixed and deadly stare, and then announced that the patient had departed.

A scene, a disgusting scene ensued ; the attorney, when certified of his client’s death, seized my hand and coarsely congratulated me on my good fortune. The doctor aban¬ doned the corpse to join the solicitor in his compliments — and between them the trutlT transpired. I had, indeed, been luckily expeditious in my journey, and the old man’s phrase of touch and go, was fully explained. The preceding day he had signed a testament conveying his entire property to a variety of charitable institutions ; and the will which had been originally made in my favour, and been kept over by this singular relative, would have remained imperfect, had 1 not so providentially arrived the evening of his death.

We left the room while the body was being laid out pre¬ paratory to interment. What a turn one hour had given to my fortunes 1 I entered Lalworth Park at four o’clock, a poor miserable dependant ; at five, I was master of all around me, possessed of twelve thousand pounds a year, owner of a borough, with fifty thousand in the funds and twenty at my banker’s. Such a mingled yarn is the web of human life.

The obsequies of my uncle were duly performed, and for

AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

many days I was engaged in examining papers, and taking possession of the plate and valuables of Lalworth Park. The house was sadly out of repair, and the grounds and gardens utterly neglected. The old man had limited the fuel for the mansion to such fallen wood as could be collected throughout the domain ; and the few domestics he em¬ ployed were scarcely sufficient to ventilate, without attempt¬ ing to keep in order the numerous and once splendid apart¬ ments. For some time T was busily occupied; I hired additional servants, engaged an architect, hated my agent’s accounts, and started then for London so soon as a decent respect towards the deceased would permit my appearing in the metropolis. Of the rest, my dear Baronet, you know sufficient particulars ; a presentable man, olim in the Blues, and recently succeeding to a large and unencumbered property, would soon “ find room in any place.” I was speedily admitted to those chosen circles which are impas¬ sable to those who want birth, impudence, or money. I ran the full round of dissi - but, on this head, you, my con¬