So shall the end of thine all-perfect plan
At length be realised in erring Man.
DONNYBROOK.
Verily, Donnybrook fair is, to all intents and purposes, “dead and gone;” for the modern wretched assemblage of hungry-looking cattle, dogs’-meat horses, measly swine, and forlorn-looking human creatures, obliged to content themselves with staring at the exterior of the show-booths, for want of the means to visit the interior, no more resembles the Donnybrook of the past, than a troop of the old “bulkies,” armed with their Arcadian crooks, and helmeted with their old woollen nightcaps, resembled a squadron of lancers.
Alas! alas! how every thing is altered! No longer does the quiet citizen dread the approach of Trinity Sunday; no longer does he think it necessary to barricade his windows, and postpone exterior painting for a week or two, in order to save his glass and the decorator’s labour from the nocturnal industry of the gentle College students.
The students never mustered in much force at Donnybrook, because it unluckily came during the long vacation; but there were enough at any time to kick up a shindy or scrimmage (by modern innovators called “a row”), for, between those who resided in town, and such as for various reasons kept the vacation within the College walls, a pretty decent muster could, upon an emergency, be called together.
It was upon the 26th of August—isn’t it strange that I should recollect the day of the month, though I forget the year!—that Bob O’Gorman, Dan Sweeny, Dick Hall, and a few other under-graduates of T.C.D., resolved to go to the fair and have a spree.
Dick was a little, delicate, effeminate-looking “ould crab,” and so smock-faced that he would easily pass for a girl, and a rather good-looking one, if dressed in female attire.
But Dick’s effeminacy was confined to his looks, for his muscular power far exceeded that of any man an inch or two more in stature, or a stone more in weight. He was a perfect master of the small-sword, had no match at single-stick; and woe to the unhappy wretch who fell under the discipline of his little bony fists, for he was an accomplished amateur in the science of pugilism, then but little known and less practised than subsequently by gentlemen.