Though a hospitable man of a certain genial humour, O'Kelly was not very open-handed to dependents. In spite of his affluence he was even mean enough to keep jockeys of the poorer class out of their money, season after season, being sometimes even sued by them in the law courts, and personally dunned on the race-course stands. In such a place, on one disgraceful occasion, an old sportsman made the Captain look extremely small by apostrophising him as a mean, low-lived, waiter-bred skunk. In spite of these failings O'Kelly achieved a certain popularity by the good dinners and excellent wines which he provided at his house at Epsom, his dry and truly Irish facetiousness affording the highest zest to those entertainments. At his country house he would never allow any betting or gambling. A constant subject of jest amongst his familiars was the tone in which at dinner he used to say, "John, bring the aaples," meaning the pines, and the whimsicality with which he would apostrophise his servant on certain occasions. The latter having announced the non-arrival of fish, "Begorra," said his master, "and if you can't get any fish, bring herrings." O'Kelly was a gentlemanly and even graceful man in behaviour, a strong contrast to his bear-like figure, dark and saturnine visage, with the accompaniment of his rough striped coat and old round hat. A quite peaceable man, though a true-bred Milesian, O'Kelly never had the smallest appetite for fighting with any weapon whatever. He was a great contrast in this respect to the bullying Dick England, with whom he once became involved in a law-suit. He was ambitious of honour and distinction, a proof of which was his successful pretension to military rank. In the darling object of his life, however, capricious fortune left him in the lurch; the Jockey Club, whose action in this matter was generally approved, steadily refusing to admit among them a parvenu, not, perhaps, of unequivocal character. This O'Kelly, so much of a philosopher in other things, did not possess philosophy enough to forgive, but, in revenge, never failed to characterise the honourable body which refused to admit him by the very hardest professional names which his wit and bitterness could devise. Very much aggrieved at not being admitted into certain of the Clubs at Newmarket and in London, which were frequented by aristocratic sportsmen, he never lost an opportunity of retaliating on those whom he deemed responsible for his exclusion.