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The handsome sheets, hoods, and rollers, in which they had hitherto appeared, and on which the initial B was alone conspicuous, were carefully folded up, and they were henceforth seen in plainer, but as serviceable apparel, labelled W. B. "Will you give fourteen to one against Brien Boru?" said Viscount Avoca to Lord Tathenham Corner, about ten days after this, at Tattersall's.
This is, of course, owing to its geographical position. But there is one fact which is immensely to its credit, and is perhaps due to the Irish who govern it, if they do prefer Fifth Avenue to parade in. For when Brian Boru from whom every loyal Irishman is descended was king, didn't a beauteous damsel, with a ring of price, stroll unprotected and in safety over his kingdom?
"Of course," she said to Boru, as she loosed him from her hold, "I might have known where she was going. The Blaines' caretaker must be a relation of hers. I saw him at her house that day. She must be going to stay with him. But why under the sun was she so mysterious about it, I wonder? And why doesn't she stay in the basement instead of occupying Miss Amy's dressing-room, and why the screen?"
He was talked of, courted, and appealed to; and, I regret to say, that before he left the club he was again nearly forgetting Kelly's Court and Miss Wyndham, had altogether got rid of his patriotic notions as to the propriety of living on his own estate, had determined forthwith to send Brien Boru over to Scott's English stables; and then, went to bed, and dreamed that he was a winner of the Derby, and was preparing for the glories of Newmarket with five or six thousand pounds in his pocket.
This passed away and the music came with the stir and the swing of marching men, and the fairies were again in the days of King Brian Boru, with Ireland free and brave and strong. It grew sad; it gushed out like sobs from a broken heart; then it was quieter, but still full of a softer sorrow; now it was merry and reckless.
One may take, as an example, the note on Kincora, where some one tells of the Battle of Clontarf, in which Brian Boru defeated the Danes: Clontarf was on the head of a game of chess. The generals of the Danes were beaten at it, and they were vexed. It was Broder, that the Brodericks are descended from, that put a dagger through Brian's heart, and he attending to his prayers.
Over the grave which Sir Bryan dug, there stands to-day a stout pine board, upon which may be read the following legend: "Here lies the body of Brian Boru, shot through the heart and subsequently buried by an agreeable Paddy of the same name." Every year, however, the inscription becomes somewhat less legible and it is to be feared that all record of the poor bear will soon be lost.
In a word, when Brian Boru expelled the Danes from Ireland, when Hugh O'Niel triumphed over the troops of Elizabeth, as well as when Dathi held the sceptre, or Nial of the hostages planted his colors on the Alps, there was enough to feed the poor of Ireland. There was no necessity for a poorhouse; and there is no need of it now, says the Irish peasant, if justice was done to Ireland.
He was the admiration and the wonder and the paragon and the criterion of his friend Billy Fairfax, who had trailed his meteoric course through college and who, when the Brian Boru went down, was accompanying him on his most recent adventure a globe-trotting trip in the interests of a moving-picture company. Socially they made an excellent team.
After luncheon they went down to meet the train that carried at least one very excited passenger. All the way from Old Chester Boru had done his doggish best to tell all the brakemen in the train that he was going to his mistress at last. He very nearly ate Janet up when he spied her down the length of the baggage platform.
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