“Well, we shall first of all cruise; confound metaphors,—let us talk plainly. Cashel has given me a carte blanche to fill his house with guests and good things. The company and the cuisine are both to be among my attributions, and I intend that we should do the thing right royally. Selection and exclusiveness are, of course, out of the question. There are so many cock-tails to run,—there can be no disqualification. Our savage friend, in fact, insists on asking everybody he sees, and we are lucky if we escape the infantry and the junior bar. Here's the list,—a goodly catalogue truly, and such a macédoine of incongruities has been rarely assembled, even at old Kennyfeck's dinner-table.”
“Why, I see few others than the people we met there t' other day.”
“Not many; but please to remember that even a country house has limits, and that some of the guests, at least, must have separate rooms. To be serious, Charley, I have misused the King's press damnably; we have such a party as few have ever witnessed. There are the Kilgoffs, the Whites, the Hamiltons, along with the Clan Kennyfeck, the Ridleys, and Mathew Hannigan, Esquire, of Bally-Hanni-gan, the new Member of Parliament for Dunrone, and the last convert to the soothing doctrines of Downie Meek.”
“Is Downie coming?” lisped the aide-de-camp.
“Ay, and his daughter, too. He wrote one of his velvety epistles, setting forth the prayer of his petition in favor of 'a little girl yet only in the nursery.'”
“Yes, yes; I know all that. Well, I 'm not sorry. I like Jemmy. She is a confounded deal better than her father, and is a capital weight to put on a young horse, and a very neat hand too. Who next? Not the Dean, I hope.”
“No; we divided on the Dean, and carried his exclusion by a large majority. Mrs. Kennyfeck was, I believe, alone in the lobby.”
“Glad of that! No one can expect an Irish visit in the country without rain, and he 's an awful fellow to be caged with, when out-o'-door work is impracticable.”
“Then there are the Latrobes and the Heatherbys; in fact, the whole set, with a Polish fellow, of course a Count,—Deuroominski; a literary tourist, brought by Mrs. White, called Howie; and a small little dark man one used to see two seasons ago, that sings the melodies and tells Irish legends,—I forget the name.”
“Promiscuous and varied, certainly; and what is the order of the course? Are there to be games, rural sports, fireworks, soaped pigs, and other like intellectualities?”