With the wits and distinguished men of that day she had lived in great intimacy, and felt a pride in contrasting the displays of intellectual wealth, so common then, with the flatter and more prosaic habita since introduced into society. “Eccentricities and absurdities,” she would say, “have replaced in the world the more brilliant exhibitions of cultivated and gifted minds, and I must confess to preferring the social qualities of Horace Walpole to the exaggerations of Bagenal Daly, or the ludicrous caprices of Buck Whaley.” “I think Mr. Daly charming, for my part,” said Helen, laughing. “I'm certain that he is a miracle of truth, as he is of adventure; if everything he relates is not strictly accurate and matter of fact, it is because the real is always inferior to the ideal. The things _ought_ to have happened as he states.” “It is, at least, _ben trovato_,” broke in Forester; “yet I go further, and place perfect confidence in his narratives, and truly I have heard some strange ones in our morning rides together.” “I suspected as much,” said Lady Eleanor, “a new listener is such a boon to him; so, then, you have heard how he carried away the Infanta of Spain, compelled the Elector of Saxony to take off his boots, made the Doge of Venice drunk, and instructed the Pasha of Trebizond in the mysteries of an Irish jig.” “Not a word of these have I heard as yet.” “Indeed! then what, in all mercy, has he been talking of,--India, China, or North America, perhaps?” “Still less; he has never wandered from Ireland and Irish life, and I must say, as far as adventure and incident are concerned, it would have been quite unnecessary for him to have strayed beyond it.” “You are perfectly right there,” said Lady Eleanor, with some seriousness in the tone; “our home anomalies may shame all foreign wonders: he himself could scarcely find his parallel in any land.” “He has a sincere affection for Lionel, Mamma,” said Helen, in an accent of deprecating meaning. “And that very same regard gave the bias to Lionel's taste for every species of absurdity! Believe me, Helen, Irish blood is too stimulating an ingredient to enter into a family oftener than once in four generations. Mr. Daly's has been unadulterated for centuries, and the consequence is, that, although neither deficient in strong sense or quick perception, he acts always on the impulse that precedes judgment, and both his generosity and his injustice outrun the mark.” “I love that same rash temperament,” said Helen, flushing as she spoke; “it is a fine thing to see so much of warm and generous nature survive all that he must have seen of the littleness of mankind.” “There! Captain Forester, there! Have I not reason on my side? You thought me very unjust towards poor Mr. Daly,--I know you did; but it demands all my watchfulness to prevent him being equally the model for my daughter, as he is for my son's imitation.”