This episode reminds me of the modern Scottish story of a tiresome small
boy who wanted more cake at a tea-party, and threatened his parents with
dire revelations if they did not comply with his demands. As they showed
no signs of intimidation, he banged on the table to obtain attention,
and then announced:--

'Ma new breeks are made out of the winter curtains.'

An incident connected with one of the earliest private carriages in
Kerry is worth telling. The vehicle in question had just been purchased
by a certain Miss Mullins, daughter of a former Lord Ventry, who
regarded it on its arrival with almost sacred awe. A dance in the
neighbourhood seemed an appropriate opportunity for impressing the
county with her newly acquired grandeur, but the night proving wet, she
insisted on reverting to a former mode of progression, and rode pillion
behind her coachman.

The result was that she caught a violent chill, which turned to
pneumonia, and as her relatives were assembled round her deathbed, the
old lady exclaimed, between her last gasps for breath:--

'Thank God I never took out the carriage that wet night.'




CHAPTER II

PARENTAGE AND EARLY YEARS