“No; he made all the money in the slave trade.”
“I always heard that he succeeded to a landed estate,” softly insinuated a modest-looking old gentleman.
“Not at all, sir. Such, I am aware, was the common belief; the fact, however, is, that he had invested large sums in land, and was then able to escape the scrutiny many would have instituted regarding the origin of his wealth.”
“Who is it he is always riding with about town—a handsome girl, on a brown horse?”
“On a gray, you mean.”
“No, a brown, with a bang tail.”
“No, no, it's a gray. She's a daughter of Tom Kennyfeck, the attorney.”
“The gentleman is right,” interposed a third. “I 've seen him very often with a lady mounted on a brown thorough-bred.”
“Oh! that's Lady Kilgoff, the handsomest woman in Ireland.”
“She was much better-looking two years ago,” simpered out an ensign, affectedly. “I used to dance with her and her sister at the race balls of Ashby.”