of superior wealth, or some fortunate collision of mind and principle, might strike a spark of generous feeling out of her husband’s heart, which nothing, she knew, under strong excitement, such as might arise from the bitter pride of the O’Brien’s, could possibly do.  Besides, as she had no favorable expectations from the interview, she thought it an unnecessary and painful task to subject herself to the insults which she apprehended from the Bodagh’s wife, whose pride and importance towered far and high over those of her consequential husband.

This just and sensible view of the matter, on the part of the mother, satisfied Connor, and reconciled him to the father’s disinclination to be accompanied by her to the scene of conflict; for, in truth, Fardorougha protested against her assistance with a bitterness which could not easily be accounted for.  “If your mother goes, let her go by herself,” said he; “for I’ll not interfere in’t if she does.  I’ll take the dirty Bodagh and his fat wife my own way, which I can’t do if Honor comes to be enibbin’ and makin’ little o’ me afore them.  Maybe I’ll pull down their pride for them better than you think, and in a way they’re not prepared for; them an’ their janting car!”

Neither Connor nor his mother could help being highly amused at the singularity of the miserable pomp and parsimonious display resorted to by Fardorougha, in preparing for this extraordinary mission.  Out of an old strongly locked chest he brought forth a gala coat, which had been duly aired, but not thrice worn within the last twenty years.  The progress of time and fashion had left it so odd, outre, and ridiculous, that Connor, though he laughed, could not help feeling depressed on considering the appearance his father must make when dressed, or rather disfigured, in it.  Next came a pair of knee—­breeches by the same hand, and which, in compliance with the taste of the age that produced them, were made to button so far down as the calf of the leg.  Then appeared a waistcoat, whose long pointed flaps reached nearly to the knees.  Last of all was produced a hat not more than three inches deep in the crown, and brimmed so narrowly, that a spectator would almost imagine the leaf had been cut off.  Having pranked himself out in these habiliments, contrary to the strongest expostulations of both wife and son, he took his staff and set forth.  But lest the reader should expect a more accurate description of his person when dressed, we shall endeavor at all events to present him with a loose outline.  In the first place, his head was surmounted with a hat that resembled a flat skillet, wanting the handle; his coat, from which avarice and penury had caused him to shrink away, would have fitted a man twice his size, and, as he had become much stooped, its tail, which, at the best, had been preposterously long, now nearly swept the ground.  To look at him behind, in fact, he appeared all body.  The flaps of his waistcoat he had pinned