he flying reserve of pigeons. It was
a sort of Irish retaliation, so amusingly exemplified in the nursery
jingle--

The water began to quench the fire,
The fire began to burn the stick,
The stick began to beat the dog,
The dog began to bite the kid.

In the midst of all these distinct and clashing tastes, that of Mrs.
O'Grady (the wife) must not be forgotten; her weak point was a feather
bed. Good soul! anxious that whoever slept under her roof should lie
softly, she would go to the farthest corner of the county to secure an
accession to her favourite property--and such a collection of luxurious
feather beds never was seen in company with such rickety bedsteads and
tattered and mildewed curtains, in rooms uncarpeted, whose paper was
dropping off the wall,--well might it be called paper-hanging
indeed!--whose washing-tables were of deal, and whose delf was of the
plainest ware, and even that minus sundry handles and spouts. Nor was
the renowned O'Grady without his hobby, too. While the various members
of his family were thwarting each other, his master-mischief was
thwarting them all; like some wicked giant looking down on a squabble of
dwarfs, and ending the fight by kicking them all right and left. Then
_he_ had _his_ troop of pets too--idle blackguards who were
slingeing[13] about the place eternally, keeping up a sort of "cordon
sanitaire," to prevent the pestilential presence of a bailiff, which is
so catching, and turns to jail fever, a disease which had been fatal in
the family. O'Grady never ventured beyond his domain except on the back
of a fleet horse--there he felt secure; indeed, the place he most
dreaded legal assault in was his own house, where he apprehended
trickery might invade him: a carriage might be but a feint, and hence
the great circumspection in the opening of doors.

[13] An Hibernicism, expressive of lounging laziness.

From the nature of the establishment, thus hastily sketched, the reader
will see what an ill-regulated jumble it was. The master, in difficulties,
had disorderly people hanging about his place for his personal security;
from these very people his boys picked up the love of dog-fights,
cock-fights, &c.; and they, from the fights of their pets, fought
amongst themselves, and were always fighting with their sisters; so the
reader will see the "metrical romance" was not overcharged in its rhymes
on Neck-or-Nothing Hall.

When Furlong entered the hall, he