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Reverting to the Harenc estate, a rather amusing account was once perpetrated by a Special Commissioner. 'Never heard tell of Ballybunion? said his carman to the journalist as on the road they met the carts laden with sand and seaweed from that place. 'Why it's a great place intirely in the season, when quality from all parts come for the sea-bathing.
"'The Secretary of State and Grand Inquisitor. . . LA ROUE. The Marshal of France. . . POMADOUR DE L'AILE DE PIGEON. The General Commander-in-Chief of the Irish Brigade in the service of his Most Christian Majesty. . . DANIEL, PRINCE OF BALLYBUNION. "His Majesty reviewed the admirable Police force, and held a council of Ministers in the afternoon.
In the morning, accompanied by Eily and Danny Mann, he sailed for Ballybunion, where they rested in a cavern while the hunchback sought an eligible lodging for the night. During his absence Hardress told Eily that Danny Mann was his foster-brother, and that he himself had been the cause of the poor fellow's deformity. "When we were children he was my constant companion," he said.
That chaise, which once had conveyed the blooming bride, all blushes and tenderness, and the happy groom, on their honeymoon visit to Ballybunion and its romantic caves, or to the gigantic cliffs and sea-girt shores of Moher or with more steady pace and becoming gravity had borne along the "going judge of assize," was now become a lying-in hospital for fowl, and a nursery for chickens.
This is by far the most economical way of getting rid of them." The astute monarch's calculations were admirably exposed by a clever remark of the Prince of Ballybunion. "Et que font-ils ces chats de Kilkigny, Monsieur le Prince de Ballybunion?" asked the Most Christian King haughtily.
That chaise, which once had conveyed the blooming bride, all blushes and tenderness, and the happy groom, on their honeymoon visit to Ballybunion and its romantic caves, or to the gigantic cliffs and sea-girt shores of Moher or with more steady pace and becoming gravity had borne along the "going judge of assize," was now become a lying-in hospital for fowl, and a nursery for chickens.
General Odillon Barrot, with a cockade as large as a pancake, endeavored to make a speech: the words honneur, patrie, Francais, champ de bataille might be distinguished; but the General was dreadfully flustered, and was evidently more at home in the Chamber of Deputies than in the field of war. The Prince of Ballybunion, for a wonder, did not make a speech.
Nothing could withstand the tremendous impetus of that manoeuvre. The Irish Brigade was scattered before it, as chaff before the wind. The Prince of Ballybunion had barely time to run Odillon Barrot through the body, when he too was borne away in the swift rout. They scattered tumultuously, and fled for twenty miles without stopping.
"Ho! standard-bearer!" the Prince concluded, "fling out my oriflamme. Noble gents of France, your King is among you to-day!" Then turning to the Prince of Ballybunion, who had been drinking whiskey-punch all night with the Princes of Donegal and Connemara, "Prince," he said, "the Irish Brigade has won every battle in the French history we will not deprive you of the honor of winning this.
As for the Princes of Ballybunion, Donegal, and Connemara, they wrote off despatches to their Government, saying, "The Duke of Nemours is beaten, and a prisoner! The Irish Brigade has done it all!"
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