t stream without a rise or even a ripple to reward him,
while a ragged urchin, with a willow wand, and a bent pin, not ten yards
distant, is covering the greensward with myriads of speckled and scaly
backs, from one pound weight to four; so it is in every thing--"the race
is not to the swift;" the elements of success in life, whatever be the
object of pursuit, are very, very different from what we think them at
first sight, and so it was with Mr. O'Leary, and I have more than once
witnessed the triumph of his homely manner and blunt humour over the
more polished and well-bred taste of his competitors for favour; and
what might have been the limit to such success, heaven alone can tell,
if it were not that he laboured under a counter-balancing infirmity,
sufficient to have swamped a line-of-battle ship itself. It was simply
this--a most unfortunate propensity to talk of the wrong place, person,
or time, in any society he found himself; and this taste for the mal
apropos, extended so far, that no one ever ventured into company with
him as his friend, without trembling for the result; but even this, I
believe his only fault, resulted from the natural goodness of his
character and intentions; for, believing as he did, in his honest
simplicity, that the arbitrary distinctions of class and rank were held
as cheaply by others as himself, he felt small scruple at recounting to
a duchess a scene in a cabaret, and with as little hesitation would he,
if asked, have sung the "Cruiskeen lawn," or the "Jug of Punch," after
Lablanche had finished the "Al Idea," from Figaro. 'Mauvaise honte,' he
had none; indeed I am not sure that he had any kind of shame whatever,
except possibly when detected with a coat that bore any appearance of
newness, or if overpersuaded to wear gloves, which he ever considered as
a special effeminacy.

Such, in a few words, was the gentleman I now presented to my friends,
and how far he insinuated himself into their good graces, let the fact
tell, that on my return to the breakfast-room, after about an hour's
absence, I heard him detailing the particulars of a route they were to
take by his advice, and also learned that he had been offered and had
accepted a seat in their carriage to Paris.

"Then I'll do myself the pleasure of joining your party, Mrs. Bingham,"
said he. "Bingham, I think, madam, is your name."

"Yes, Sir."

"Any relation, may I ask, of a most dear friend of mine, of the same
name, from