"I sat for an hour alone in this Lismore Hotel, utterly dumfounded, bewildered, paralyzed. I had experienced some shocks, some 'take-downs,' in my time, but never one to compare with this.

"Arousing myself from a state of mental stupefaction hitherto unknown, I began to realize the necessity of immediate action if I wished to avoid falling into the merciless jaws of the British lion. I put the paper into the fire, and retired to the room allotted to me.

"Before daylight in the morning I had decided upon the first step, and as the lawyer had asked me if I intended to remain over Sunday, I resolved to be as far away as possible before he was out of bed. While it was yet dark in the house, I left my bag in the bedroom and crept gently down the stairs to the basement, where the porter-hostler was sleeping in a box of rags. I suppose the poor wretch had not long finished his multifarious duties, for I could arouse him only to a state of semi-consciousness, and could get no information from him. I then went up to the front door, carefully turned the key and stepped out on the piazza which ran along the front of the hotel. Another shock was in store for me. A man posted on the other side of the street was watching the hotel!

"It was now quite light, and I sauntered carelessly up the street, apparently taking no notice of the man over the way, and endeavoring to show by my actions that I was out for an airing before breakfast.

"As I turned the next corner and glanced back, I saw him following. I noticed a place where jaunting-cars were to be let, but passed on, at each turn glancing back to see my follower the same distance in the rear. I now took a circuit around by the hotel, but instead of going in I hastened and turned the next corner beyond—he, when reaching the corner near the hotel, not seeing me, doubtless thought I had gone in, and planted himself in his old position. I thought Lismore to be getting rather hot, and hastening to the livery stable, found the hostler just getting up. He informed me that all the horses were engaged for the day except one, the fastest they had, but as this was engaged for a long journey on Tuesday, they were letting him have a rest. I said: 'But, my good fellow, I must have a horse, and at once, with you to drive, and there will be a half sovereign for a good Irishman, such as I see before me.' My 'blarney' began to do its work. Scratching his head, he finally said: 'Well, I will waken up my master, and you can talk with him.' So he rapped at a window, and soon a night-capped head appeared, and after some parley the master consented to let me have his equipage. In a few minutes from the time I had lost sight of my follower we were rattling out of the town of Lismore at the full speed of a blooded Irish horse. I had left my bag behind, taking only the Scotch caps and ulster with me from the hotel. I found, by reference to the small map and railway guide, that Clonmel was less than thirty miles distant, and connected with Dublin by a branch line. When I engaged the jaunting-car I had told the owner that it was uncertain what part of the day I should require it, and after we were about five miles from Lismore I said to the driver:

"'You say that you are going to Clonmel on Tuesday for a passenger. Well, now, as I must go there before I leave this part of the country, you may as well continue in that direction, and I can return with you on Tuesday.'

"This pleased him, and we drove on till about noon, when we stopped at a country grocery about five miles from Clonmel. As we drove up to the door, the words of an old Irish song went jingling through my brain:

"'At the sign of the bell,
On the road to Clonmel,
Pat Flagherty kept a neat shebeen.'

"The rain poured down in torrents. I gave my driver a lunch of bread and cheese, which—of course, there—included whisky. I also gave him a sovereign, telling him to pay his master for the horse-hire and keep the change for himself; then started him back, brimful of delight and the 'craythur,' receiving his parting salute:

"'Yer 'onor is a jintleman, and no mistake.'