“I 've seen great changes in my time, Davy,” continued he, following out his own thoughts. “I was in the Volunteers when we bullied the English, and they 've paid us off for it since, that they have! I was one of the jury when Jackson died in the dock, and if he was alive now, maybe it's a lord of the Treasury he 'd be. Everything is changed, and everybody too. Do you remember Kellett, of Kellett's Court, that used to drive on the Circular Road with six horses?” Dunn nodded an assent. “His liveries were light-blue and silver, and Lord Castletown's was the same; and Kellett said to him one day, 'My Lord,' says he, 'we're always mistaken for each other; could n't we hit on a way to prevent it?' 'I'm willing,' says my Lord, 'if I only knew how.' 'Then I 'll tell you,' says Kellett; 'make your people follow your own example and turn their coats,--that'll do it,' says he.” And the old man laughed till his eyes swam. “What's become of them Kelletts?” added he, sharply. “Ruined,--sold out” “To be sure, I remember all about it; and the young fellow,--Paul was his name,--where's he?” “He's not so very young now,” said Dunn, smiling; “he has a clerkship in the Customs,--a poor place it is.” “I'm glad of it,” said he, fiercely; “there was an old score between us,--that's his father and me,--and I knew I would n't die till it was settled.” “These are not kindly feelings, father,” said Dunn, mildly. “No; but they 're natural ones, and that's as good,” said the old man, with an energy that seemed to defy his age. “Where would I be now, where would you, if it was only kindness we thought of? There wasn't a man in all Ireland I wanted to be quite with so much as old Kellett of Kellett's Court; and you'd not wonder if you knew why; but I won't tell.” Davenport Dunn's cheek grew crimson and then deadly pale, but he never uttered a word. “And what's more,” continued the old man, energetically, “I'd pay the debt off to his children and his children's children with interest, if I could.” Still was the other silent; and the old man looked angry that he had not succeeded in stimulating the curiosity he had declared he would not gratify. “Fate has done the work already, sir,” said Dunn, gravely. “Look where _we_ are, and where _they!_” “That 's true,--that's true; we have a receipt in full for it all; but I 'd like to show it to him. I 'd like to say to him, 'Mr. Kellett, once upon a time, when my son there was a child--'” “Father, father, these memories can neither make us wiser nor happier,” broke in Dunn, in a voice of deep emotion. “Had I taken upon me to carry through life the burden of resentments, my back had been broken long ago; and from your own prudent counsels I learned that this could never lead to success. The men whom destiny has crushed are like bankrupt debtors, and to pursue them is but to squander your own resources.”