"Come, my dear lord!" said Lady Dashfort; "with our sublime
sensations, we are keeping my old friend, Mr. Ulick Brady, this
venerable person, waiting to show us into the reception-room."

The servant bowed respectfully--more respectfully than servants of
modern date.

"My lady, the reception-room has been lately painted,--the smell of
paint may be disagreeable; with your leave, I will take the liberty of
showing you into my master's study."

He opened the door, went in before her, and stood holding up his
finger, as if making a signal of silence to some one within. Her
ladyship entered, and found herself in the midst of an odd assembly:
an eagle, a goat, a dog, an otter, several gold and silver fish in a
glass globe, and a white mouse in a cage. The eagle, quick of eye but
quiet of demeanour, was perched upon his stand; the otter lay under
the table, perfectly harmless; the Angora goat, a beautiful and
remarkably little creature of its kind, with long, curling, silky
hair, was walking about the room with the air of a beauty and a
favourite; the dog, a tall Irish greyhound--one of the few of that
fine race, which is now almost extinct--had been given to Count
O'Halloran by an Irish nobleman, a relation of Lady Dashfort's. This
dog, who had formerly known her ladyship, looked at her with ears
erect, recognized her, and went to meet her the moment she entered.
The servant answered for the peaceable behaviour of all the rest of
the company of animals, and retired. Lady Dashfort began to feed the
eagle from a silver plate on his stand; Lord Colambre examined the
inscription on his collar; the other men stood in amaze. Heathcock,
who came in last, astonished out of his constant "Eh! re'lly now!"