had not been sold, and who still looked up to him as their "raal young
masther"--and of the whole country round. The "thrue dhrop of the ould
blood", was in his veins; and, whatever faults he might have, he wasn't
likely to waste his time and his cash with furs, laces, and hangings.

[FOOTNOTE 9: ci-devant--(French) former, previous]

This was a great comfort to the neighbourhood, which had learned
heartily to despise the name of Lord Ballindine; and Frank was
encouraged in shooting, hunting, racing--in preparing to be a thorough
Irish gentleman, and in determining to make good the prophecies of his
friends, that he would be, at last, one more "raal O'Kelly to brighten
the counthry."

And if he could have continued to be Frank O'Kelly, or even "the
O'Kelly", he would probably have done well enough, for he was fond of
his mother and sisters, and he might have continued to hunt, shoot, and
farm on his remaining property without further encroaching on it. But
the title was sure to be his ruin. When he felt himself to be a lord,
he could not be content with the simple life of a country gentleman;
or, at any rate, without taking the lead in the country. So, as soon as
the old man was buried, he bought a pack of harriers, and despatched
a couple of race-horses to the skilful hands of old Jack Igoe, the
Curragh trainer.

Frank was a very handsome fellow, full six feet high, with black hair,
and jet-black silky whiskers, meeting under his chin;--the men said he
dyed them, and the women declared he did not. I am inclined, myself,
to think he must have done so, they were so very black. He had an eye
like a hawk, round, bright, and bold; a mouth and chin almost too well