Roland Cashel, Volume I (of II). Lever Charles James
whose proprietor never was once seen in the saddle. Far otherwise the ladies of the house; the mother and daughters, but in particular the elder, rode with all the native grace of Galway; and as they were invariably well mounted, and their grooms the smartest and best appointed, their “turn-out” was the admiration of the capital.
It was in vain that the English officials at the Castle, whose superlative tastes were wont to overshadow mere Irish pretension, endeavored to compete with these noted equestrians. Secretaries’ wives and chamberlains’ daughters, however they might domineer in other matters, were here, at least, surpassed, and it was a conceded fact, that the Kennyfecks rode better, dressed better, and looked better on horseback than any other girls in the country. If all the critics as to horsemanship pronounced the elder unequivocally the superior rider, mere admirers of gracefulness preferred the younger sister, who, less courageous and self-possessed, invested her skill with a certain character of timidity that increased the interest her appearance excited.
They never rode out without an immense cortège of followers, every well-looking and well-mounted man about town deeming it his devoir to join this party, just as the box of the reigning belle at the opera is besieged by assiduous visitors The very being seen in this train was a kind of brevet promotion in fashionable esteem, to which each newly-arrived cornet aspired, and thus the party usually presented a group of brilliant uniforms and dancing plumes that rivalled in brilliancy, and far excelled in amusement, the staff of the viceroy himself.
It would be uufair to suppose that, with all their natural innocence and artlessness, they were entirely ignorant of the sway they thus exercised; indeed, such a degree of modesty would have trenched upon the incredulous, for how could they doubt what commanders of the forces and deputy-assistant-adjutants assured them, still less question the veracity of a prince royal, who positively asserted that they “rode better than Quentin’s daughter”?
It was thus a source of no small excitement among the mounted loungers of the capital, when the Kennyfecks issued forth on horseback, and not, as usual, making the tour of the “Square” to collect their forces, they rode at once down Grafton Street, accompanied by a single cavalier.
“Who have the Kennyfeck girls got with them?” said a thin-waisted-looking aide-de-camp to a lanky, well-whiskered fellow in a dragoon undress, at the Castle gate.
“He is new to me – never saw him before. I say, Lucas, who is that tall fellow on Kennyfeck’s brown horse – do you know him?”
“Don’t know – can’t say,” drawled out a very diminutive hussar cornet.
“He has a look of Merrington,” said another, joining the party.
“Not a bit of it; he’s much larger. I should n’t wonder if he’s one of the Esterhazys they’ve caught. There is one of them over here – a Paul or a Nicholas, of the younger branch; – but here ‘s Linton, he ‘ll tell us, if any man can.”
This speech was addressed to a very dapper, well-dressed man of about thirty, mounted on a small thoroughbred pony, whose splashed and heaving flanks bespoke a hasty ride.
“I say, Tom, you met the Kennyfecks, – who was that with them?”
“Don’t you know him, my Lord?” said a sharp, ringing voice; “that’s our newly-arrived millionnaire, – Roland Cashel, our Tipperary Croesus, – the man with I won’t say how many hundred thousands a year, and millions in bank besides.”
“The devil it is – a good-looking fellow, too.”
“Spooney, I should say,” drawled out the hussar, caressing his moustache.
“One need n’t be as smart a fellow as you, Wheeler, with forty thousand a year,” said Linton, with a sly glance at the others.
“You don’t suppose, Tom,” said the former speaker, “that the Kennyfecks have any designs in that quarter, – egad! that would be rather aspiring, eh?”
“Very unwise in us to permit it, my Lord,” said Linton, in a low tone. “That’s a dish will bear carving, and let every one have his share.”
My Lord laughed with a low cunning laugh at the suggestion, and nodded an easy assent.
Meanwhile the Kennyfecks rode slowly on, and crossing Essex Bridge continued their way at a foot pace towards the park, passing in front of the Four Courts, where a very large knot of idlers uncovered their heads in polite salutation as they went.
“That’s Kennyfeck’s newly-discovered client,” cried one; “a great card, if they can only secure him for one of the girls.”
“I say, did you remark how the eldest had him engaged? She never noticed any of us.”
“I back Olivia,” said another; “she’s a quiet one, but devilish sly for all that.”
“Depend upon it,” interposed an older speaker, “the fellow is up to all that sort of thing.”
“Jones met him at dinner yesterday at Kennyfeck’s, and says he is a regular soft one, and if the girls don’t run an opposition to each other, one is sure to win.”
“Why not toss up for him, then? that would be fairer.”
“Ay, and more sisterly, too,” said the elder speaker. “Jones would be right glad to claim the beaten horse.”
“Jones, indeed, – I can tell you they detest Jones,” said a young fellow.
“They told you so, eh, Hammond?” said another; while a very hearty laugh at the discomfited youth broke from the remainder.
And now to follow our mounted friends, who, having reached the park, continued still at a walking pace to thread the greasy paths that led through that pleasant tract; now hid amid the shade of ancient thorn-trees, now gaining the open expanse of plain with its bold background of blue mountains.
From the evident attention bestowed by the two sisters, it was clear that Cashel was narrating something of interest, for he spoke of an event which had happened to himself in his prairie life; and this alone, independent of all else, was enough to make the theme amusing.
“Does this convey any idea of a prairie, Mr. Cashel?” said Miss Kennyfeck, as they emerged from a grove of beech-trees, and came upon the wide and stretching plain, so well known to Dubliners as the Fifteen Acres, but which is, in reality, much greater in extent. “I have always fancied this great grassy expanse must be like a prairie.”
“About as like as yonder cattle to a herd of wild buffaloes,” replied Roland, smiling.
“Then what is a prairie like? Do tell us,” said Olivia, eagerly.
“I can scarcely do so, nor, if I were a painter, do I suppose that I could make a picture of one, because it is less the presence than the total absence of all features of landscape that constitutes the wild and lonely solitude of a prairie. But fancy a great plain – gently – very gently undulating, – not a tree, not a shrub, not a stream to break the dreary uniformity; sometimes, but even that rarely, a little muddy pond of rain-water, stagnant and yellow, is met with, but only seen soon after heavy showers, for the hot sun rapidly absorbs it. The only vegetation a short yellowed burnt-up grass, – not a wild flower or a daisy, if you travelled hundreds of hundreds of miles. On you go, days and days, but the scene never changes. Large cloud shadows rest upon the barren expanse, and move slowly and sluggishly away, or sometimes a sharp and pelting shower is borne along, traversing hundreds of miles in its course; but these are the only traits of motion in the death-like stillness. At last, perhaps after weeks of wandering, you descry, a long way off, some dark objects dotting the surface, – these are buffaloes; or at sunset, when the thin atmosphere makes everything sharp and distinct, some black spectral shapes seem to glide between you and the red twilight, – these are Indian hunters, seen miles off, and by some strange law of nature they are presented to the vision when far, far beyond the range of sight. Such strange apparitions, the consequence of refraction, have led to the most absurd superstitions; and all the stories the Germans tell you of their wild huntsmen are nothing to the tales every trapper can recount of war parties seen in the air, and tribes of red men in pursuit of deer