Lady Dorothea was now about to experience this severe lesson, and not the less heavily that she never anticipated it. After a wearisome journey the Martins arrived in Dublin. The apartments secured to them, by a previous letter, at Bilton's, were all in readiness for their reception. The “Saunders” of the day duly chronicled their arrival; but there the great event seemed to terminate. No message from her Ladyship's noble kinsman greeted their coming; no kind note of welcome,--not even a visit from Mr. Lawrence Belcour, the aide-de-camp in waiting. The greatest of all moralists warns us against putting confidence in princes; and how doubly truthful is the adage when extended to viceroys! Small as was the borough of Oughterard, and insignificant as seemed the fact who should be its representative, the result of the election was made a great matter at the “Castle.” His Excellency was told that the Martins had mismanaged everything. They had gone to work in the old Tory cut-and-thrust fashion of former days--conciliated no interest, won over no antagonism; they had acted “precisely as if there had been no Relief Bill,”--we steal Colonel Massingbred's words,--and they were beaten--beaten in their own town--in the person of one of their own family, and by a stranger! The Viceroy was vexed. They had misconstrued every word of his letter,--a letter that, as he said, any child might have understood,--and there was a vote lost to his party. It was in vain that the Chief Secretary assured his Excellency “Jack was a clever fellow, who 'd put all to rights;” that with a little time and a little dexterity he 'd be able to vote with the Ministry on every important division; the great fact remained unatoned for,--his family, his own connections, “had done nothing for him.”