for she makes noise enough wherever she goes; especially in Dublin,
where all she said and did was echoed and magnified, till one could
hear of nothing else. I don't think she has landed."

"I hope to Heaven they may never land again in Ireland!" cried
Sir James Brooke: "one worthless woman, especially one worthless
Englishwoman of rank, does incalculable mischief in a country like
this, which looks up to the sister country for fashion. For my own
part, as a warm friend to Ireland, I would rather see all the toads
and serpents, and venomous reptiles, that St. Patrick carried off in
his bag, come back to this island, than these two _dashers_. Why, they
would bite half the women and girls in the kingdom with the rage for
mischief, before half the husbands and fathers could turn their heads
about. And, once bit, there's no cure in nature or art."

"No horses to this barouche!" cried Captain Bowles.--"Pray, sir, whose
carriage is this?" said the captain to a servant, who was standing
beside it.

"My Lady Dashfort, sir, it belongs to," answered the servant, in
rather a surly English tone; and turning to a boy who was lounging at
the door, "Pat, bid them bring out the horses, for my ladies is in a
hurry to get home."

Captain Bowles stopped to make his servant alter the girths of his
horse, and to satisfy his curiosity; and the whole party halted.
Captain Bowles beckoned to the landlord of the inn, who was standing
at his door.

"So, Lady Dashfort is here again?--This is her barouche, is not it?"