During the fair week, Dan Donnelly's tent (he always kept one after he became a celebrated character) was always crowded to excess by all classes, high and low; some attracted by admiration of the good things of this life dispensed by the amiable Lady Dann'ly, others by the convivial and facetious qualities of her redoubted spouse; in the evening, especially, you were sure to find him the centre of a circle of wondering listeners, detailing some of his extraordinary adventures, the most astonishing of which it was heresy in the eyes of his followers to doubt for an instant, though my love of truth obliges me to confess, that one or two I have heard him relate sounded a little apocryphal. But great and extraordinary characters are not to be judged of by common rules; for instance, his account of the manner in which he obtained the honour of knighthood from the hands of our present gracious sovereign, then Prince Regent, always appeared to me to differ in some material circumstances from the ordinary routine of court etiquette, and rather to resemble one of those amusing and instructive narratives denominated fairy tales. But on this delicate subject perhaps the safest course is to suffer the reader to judge for himself: so without further circumlocution, I will submit my lamented friend's account to his perusal, in the precise words in which I have so often had the pleasure of hearing it:-- "My jewels, I was lyin' in bed one mornin', restin' myself, in regard ov bein' dhrunk the night afore, wid Scroggins an' Jack Randall, an' some more ov the boys; an' as I was lyin' on the broad ov my back, thinkin' ov nothin', a knock came to my door. 'Come in,' says I, 'iv you're fat.' So the door opened sure enough, an' in come a great big chap, dhressed in the most elegantest way ever you see, wid a cockade in his hat, an' a plume ov feathers out ov id, an' goolden epulets upon his shouldhers, an' tossels an' bobs of goold all over the coat ov him, jist like any lord ov the land. 'Are you Dan Dann'ly,' says he;--'Throth an' I am,' says I; 'an' that's my name sure enough, for want ov a better; an' what do ye want wid me now you've found me.'--'My masther is waitin' to spake to ye, an' sint me to tell you to come down to his place in a hurry.'--'An' who the devil _is_ your masther?' says I; 'an' didn't think ye had one, only yourself, an' you so fine.'--'Oh,' says he, 'my masther is the Prence Ragin.'--'Blur an' ouns,' says I; 'tell his honour I'll be wid him in the twinklin' ov a bedpost, the minit I take my face from behind my beard, an' get on my clane flax; but stop a bit,' says I; 'where does the masther live?'--'Down at Carltown Palace,' says he; 'so make yourself dacent, an' be off wid yourself afther me.' Wid that away he wint.