In the following year, when he was seventy-eight, he met with a severe accident. He was overturned, and his thigh was severely fractured. He was laid up for six months, quite incapable of stirring. He was afterwards able to get about in a marvellous way, though quite crippled. As his life's work was over, he determined to retire finally from business; and he handed over the whole of his cars, coaches, horses, and plant, with all the lines of road he was then working, to his employes, on the most liberal terms. My youngest son met Mr. Bianconi, by appointment, at the Roman Catholic church at Boherlahan, in the summer of 1872. Although the old gentleman had to be lifted into and out of his carriage by his two men-servants, he was still as active-minded as ever. Close to the church at Boherlahan is Bianconi's mortuary chapel, which he built as a sort of hobby, for the last resting-place of himself and his family. The first person interred in it was his eldest daughter, who died in Italy; the second was his only son. A beautiful monument with a bas-relief has been erected in the chapel by Benzoni, an Italian sculptor, to the memory of his daughter. "As we were leaving the chapel," my son informs me, "we passed a long Irish car containing about sixteen people, the tenants of Mr. Bianconi, who are brought at his expense from all parts of the estate. He is very popular with his tenantry, regarding their interests as his own; and he often quotes the words of his friend Mr. Drummond, that 'property has its duties as well as its rights.' He has rebuilt nearly every house on his extensive estates in Tipperary. "On our way home, the carriage stopped to let me down and see the strange remains of an ancient fort, close by the roadside. It consists of a high grass-grown mound, surrounded by a moat. It is one of the so-called Danish forts, which are found in all parts of Ireland. If it be true that these forts were erected by the Danes, they must at one time have had a strong hold of the greater part of Ireland. "The carriage entered a noble avenue of trees, with views of prettily enclosed gardens on either side. Mr. Bianconi exclaimed, 'Welcome to the Carman's Stage!' Longfield House, which we approached, is a fine old-fashioned house, situated on the river Suir, a few miles south of Cashel, one of the most ancient cities in Ireland. Mr. Bianconi and his family were most hospitable; and I found him most lively and communicative. He talked cleverly and with excellent choice of language for about three hours, during which I learnt much from him.