My readers may perceive that Denis, although a pedant, was not a fool.  It has been said that no man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre; but I think the truth of the sentiment contained in that saying is questionable.  Denis, on the contrary, was nowhere so great a man as in his own chimney-corner, surrounded by his family.  It was there he was learned, accomplished, profound; next to that, he was great among those who, although not prejudiced in his favor by the bonds of affection, were too ignorant to discover those literary pranks which he played off, because he knew he could do so without detection.  The basis, however, of his character was shrewd humor and good sense; and even at the stage of life which we have just described, it might have been evident to a close observer that, when a proper knowledge of his own powers, joined to a further acquaintance with the world, should enable him to cast off the boyish assumption of pedantry, a man of a keen, ready intellect and considerable penetration would remain.

Many of my readers may be inclined to exclaim that the character of Denny is not to be found in real life; but they are mistaken who think so.  They are not to suppose that Denis O’Shaughnessy was the same person in his intercourse with intelligent men and scholars, that he appeared among the illiterate peasantry, or his own relations.  Far from it.  With the former, persons like him are awkward and bashful, or modest and unassuming, according to the bent of their natural disposition.  With scholars Denis made few pretensions to superior knowledge; but, on the contrary, took refuge, if he dreaded a scrutiny into his acquirements, in the humblest acknowledgment of his limited reading, and total unacquaintance with those very topics on which he was, under other circumstances, in the habit of expatiating so fluently.  In fact, were I to detail some of the scenes of his exhibitions as they were actually displayed, then I have no doubt I might be charged with coloring too highly.

When Denis had finished the oration from the chimney-corner, delivered with suitable gesticulations while he stood drying himself at the fire after the catastrophe of the swamp, a silence of some minutes followed.  The promise of the colt made to the priest with such an air of authority, was a finale which the father did not expect, and by which he was not a little staggered.

“I could like it all very well,” replied the father, “save an’ except givin’ away the coult that’s worth five-an’-twenty guineas, if he’s worth a ’crona-bawn.  To tell the blessed thruth, Dinis, if you had settled the business widout that, I’d be betther plased.”

“Just exercise your contemplation upon it for a short period,” replied Denis, “and you will perceive that I stipulated to lend him before witnesses; and if Father Finnerty does not matriculate me into Maynooth, then do you walk down some brilliant morning or other, and take your baste by the head, direct yourself home, hold the bridle as you proceed, and by the time you’re at the rack, you’ll find the horse at the manger.  I have now stated the legality of the matter, and you may act as your own subtility of perception shall dictate.  I have laid down the law, do you consider the equity.”