Five minutes’ walk from the Viceregal Lodge, on the road to the Phœnix Park, there stands, amid clustering trees, a little, long, low, white house with a green verandah and a tiny lawn and garden. This is the ‘Little Lodge’ and the appointed abode of the private secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant. By a friendly arrangement with that gentleman Lord Randolph was permitted to occupy it; and here, for the next four years, his life was mainly lived. He studied reflectively the jerky course of administration at the Castle. He played chess with Steinitz, who was living in Dublin at this time; he explored Donegal in pursuit of snipe; he fished the lakes and streams of Ireland, wandering about where fancy took him; but wherever he went, and for whatever purpose, he interested himself in the people and studied the questions of the country. Disdaining the Ward Stag-hounds as not true sport, he hunted earnestly each winter with the Meath and Kildare. Often on a summer’s afternoon he would repair to Howth, where the east coast cliffs rise up into bold headlands which would not be unworthy of the Atlantic waves. Here in good company he would make the ‘periplus,’ as he called it--or, in other words, sail round ‘Ireland’s Eye’--in the 16-foot boat of FitzGibbon’s mate, Frank Lynch (the ‘Admiral’ of his letters), catch lobsters, and cook and eat them on the rocks of the island. In the evenings he played half-crown whist in Trinity College or at the University Club or dined and argued with FitzGibbon and his friends. ‘He was,’ writes FitzGibbon, ‘always on the move. He had the reputation of an “_enfant terrible_.” Before long he had been in Donegal, in Connemara, and all over the place--“Hail fellow, well met” with everybody except the aristocrats and the old Tories; for he showed symptoms of independence of view and of likings for the company of “the Boys,” which led to some friction with the staunch Conservatives and strong Protestants who regarded themselves as the salt of the earth.’ FitzGibbon’s Christmas parties at Howth--an institution justly celebrated since, but misunderstood by many, as a gathering of notable men--had begun in the bivouac of six close friends in a half-finished house on Innocents’ Day, 1875. The number grew as the years passed by. Lord Randolph came first in 1877 and was accepted as its youngest member into a circle which included David Plunket, Edward Gibson, Baillie-Gage, Webb-Williamson, Professor Mahaffy, Morris Gibson, Father James Healy, Dr. Nedley, and other wise and merry Irishmen. The nights were consumed with whist, chaff, and tobacco; and the intervening days spent in climbing the Hill of Howth or listening to the ‘words of wisdom from Morris’ which became one of the constant features of the entertainment. These parties were always a great delight to Lord Randolph and during the rest of his life nothing, which could by any effort be thrust aside, was ever allowed to stand in the way of his visit.