im the bygone days of his country's history were dear, made
more familiar by many an antique relic which hung around his own room
in his father's house. Celt and sword, and spear-head of Phoenician
bronze, and golden gorget, and silver bodkin, and ancient harp, and
studded crosier, were there; and these time-worn evidences of arts, and
arms, and letters flattered the affection with which he looked back on
the ancient history of Ireland, and kept alive the ardent love of his
country with which he glowed--a love too deep, too pure, to be likely
to expire, even without the aid of such poetic sources of excitement.
To him the names of Fitzgerald, and Desmond, and Tyrone, were dear; and
there was no romantic legend of the humbler outlaws with which he was
not familiar: and "Charley of the Horses," and "Ned of the Hill," but
headed the list of names he loved to recall; and the daring deeds of
bold spirits who held the hill-side for liberty, were often given in
words of poetic fire from the lips of Edward O'Connor.

And yet Edward O'Connor went to see the badger-fight.

There is something inherent in man's nature, urging him to familiarise
himself with cruelty: and, perhaps, without such a power of witnessing
savage deeds, he would be unequal to the dominion for which he was
designed. Men of the highest order of intellect the world has known
have loved the chase. How admirably Scott displays this tendency of
noble minds, in the meeting of Ellen with her father, when Douglas
says--

"The chase I followed far;
'T is mimicry of noble war."

And the effect of this touch of character is heightened by Douglas in a
subsequent scene--Douglas, who could enjoy the sport which ends in
death, bending over his gentle child, and dropping tears of the
tenderest affection--tears which

"Would not stain an angel's cheek."

Superadded to this natural tendency, Edward O'Connor had an additional
motive. He lived amongst a society of sporting men, less cultivated
than he was, whose self-esteem would have easily ignited the spark of
jealousy if he had seemed to scorn the things which made their
principal enjoyment, and formed the chief occupation of their lives;
and his good sense and good heart (and there is an intimate connection
between them) pointed out to him that, wherever your lot is cast, duty
to yourself and others suggests the propriety of adapting your conduct
to the circumstances in which you are placed (so long as mo