Now Sir George Brown was not my father, nor any relation to me, but Mike O'Leary would have it so, and Sir George was trotted out of his grave and thrown in my teeth as long as Mike lived. Well, he was not a promising lot, but I was so hard up for a man, and the horses wanted so much looking after, that I took him on. As a groom he was perfect; never have I seen a man his equal. The horses took to him, and he was devoted to them. But, by the Lord Harry! he was a blister to everyone else on the station. How he had ever been enlisted in the 57th the Lord only knows, and how he had ever existed in the regiment is a mystery to me to this day. His tongue was as sharp as a double-edged sword, and as bitter as gall, but the little fiend could fight like a gamecock, and was as hard as iron, so that when his remarks were resented he was always ready to back his words up with his hands, until at last most of the troopers were only too glad to leave Mike alone. As regards myself, he showed me neither deference nor respect, would never say Sir when addressing me, and would openly and audibly criticise my riding, my personal appearance, my drill, and my dress, and none of these to my credit. Poor Sir George was also brought to the fore every day, and the difference between us as to morals, manners, sport, or anything else that might be on the tapis, was pointed out and expatiated upon, and never in my favour. The little beast became quite obnoxious to me, but he did so well by the horses that I could not part with him, and came at last to look on him as a trial sent by Providence to humiliate me, and as a punishment for my sins; so I was bound to accept him as such, and put up with him. Well, things went on like this till one day, when I came in from a long patrol, I found Quin on the sick list and that Mike O'Leary had installed himself in his place as servant. Now if I had wanted him to come and look after me, nothing on earth would have made him come, but as he knew he was the last man on the station whose presence I desired in my rooms, of course there he was and there he evidently intended to stick. In vain I told him he would be overworked looking after both myself and the horses. "Sure, and don't I know that?" he snarled. "It's little thanks I'll get from the likes of you, who spends your money on debauchery and blaggardism, and pays your servants, who works their fingers to the bone, as little as ye can; but I knows my duty to your honourable father, God rest his sowle, and while that useless baste Quin is skulking, I'll be here to see you to bed when you come home drunk every night." What was to be done? I though matters over, and at last determined to attack Mike on his only weak spot. Mike I knew to be a rigid R.C., but he was also saturated with superstitions. He had all those of the usual Irish peasant, and a good many more of his own.