“Not at all, not at all, my dear boy,” said his father: “I would rather cramp myself than that you should be cramped, a thousand times over. But it is all my Lady Clonbrony’s nonsense. If people would but, as they ought, stay in their own country, live on their own estates, and kill their own mutton, money need never be wanting.” For killing their own mutton, Lord Colambre did not see the indispensable necessity; but he rejoiced to hear his father assert that people should reside in their own country. “Ay,” cried Lord Clonbrony, to strengthen his assertion, as he always thought it necessary to do, by quoting some other person’s opinion--“so Sir Terence O’Fay always says, and that’s the reason your mother can’t endure poor Terry--You don’t know Terry? No, you have only seen him; but, indeed, to see him is to know him; for he is the most off-hand, good fellow in Europe.” “I don’t pretend to know him yet,” said Lord Colambre. “I am not so presumptuous as to form my opinion at first sight.” “Oh, curse your modesty!” interrupted Lord Clonbrony; “you mean, you don’t pretend to like him yet; but Terry will make you like him. I defy you not--I’ll introduce you to him--him to you, I mean--most warm-hearted, generous dog upon earth--convivial--jovial--with wit and humour enough, in his own way, to split you--split me if he has not. You need not cast down your eyes, Colambre. What’s your objection?” “I have made none, sir--but, if you urge me, I can only say, that, if he has all these good qualities, it is to be regretted that he does not look and speak a little more like a gentleman.” “A gentleman!--he is as much a gentleman as any of your formal prigs--not the exact Cambridge cut, may be--Curse your English education! ‘twas none of my advice--I suppose you mean to take after your mother in the notion, that nothing can be good or genteel but what’s English.” “Far from it, sir; I assure you I am as warm a friend to Ireland as your heart could wish. You will have no reason, in that respect, at least, nor, I hope, in any other, to curse my English education--and, if my gratitude and affection can avail, you shall never regret the kindness and liberality with which you have, I fear, distressed yourself to afford me the means of becoming all that a British nobleman ought to be.” “Gad! you distress me now,” said Lord Clonbrony, “and I didn’t expect it, or I wouldn’t make a fool of myself this way,” added he, ashamed of his emotion, and whiffling it off. “You have an Irish heart, that I see, which no education can spoil. But you must like Terry--I’ll give you time, as he said to me, when first he taught me to like usquebaugh--Good morning to you.”