For the remainder of that day Denis was as learned and consequential as ever; his friends, when their hearts were opened by his father’s hospitality, all promised him substantial aid in money, and in presents of such articles as they supposed might be serviceable to him in Maynooth.  Denny received their proffers of support with suitable dignity and gratitude.  A scene of bustle and preparation now commenced among them, nor was Denny himself the least engaged; for it somehow happened, that notwithstanding his profound erudition, he felt it necessary to read night or day in order to pass with more eclat the examination which he had to stand before the bishop ere his appointment to Maynooth.  This ordeal was to occur upon a day fixed for the purpose, in the ensuing month; and indeed Denis occupied as much of the intervening period in study as his circumstances would permit.  His situation was, at this crisis, certainly peculiar.  Every person related to him in the slightest degree contrived to revive their relationship; his former school-fellows, on hearing that he was actually destined to be of the church, renewed their acquaintance with him, and those who had been servants to his father, took the liberty of speaking to him upon the strength of that fact.  No child, to the remotest shade of affinity, was born, for which he did not stand godfather; nieces and nephews thickened about him, all with remarkable talents, and many of them, particularly of the nieces, said to be exceedingly genteel—­very thrifty for their ages, and likely to make excellent housekeepers.  A strong likeness to himself was also pointed out in the features of his nephews, one of whom had his born nose—­another his eyes—­and a third again had his brave high-flown way with him.  In short, he began to feel some of the inconveniences of greatness; and, like it, to be surrounded by cringing servility and meanness.  When he went to the chapel he was beset, and followed from place to place, by a retinue of friends who were all anxious to secure to themselves the most conspicuous marks of his notice.  It was the same thing in fair or market; they contended with each other who should do him most honor, or afford to him and his father’s immediate family the most costly treat, accompanied by the grossest expressions of flattery.  Every male infant born among them was called Dionysius; and every female one Susan, after his favorite sister.  All this, to a lad like Denis, already remarkable for his vanity, was very trying; or rather, it absolutely turned his brain, and made him probably as finished a specimen of pride, self-conceit, and domineering arrogance, mingled with a kind of lurking humorous contempt for his cringing relations, as could be displayed in the person of some shallow but knavish prime minister, surrounded by his selfish sycophants, whom he encourages and despises.

At home he was idolized—­overwhelmed with respect and deference.  The slightest intimation of his wish was a command to them; the beef, and fowl, and mutton, were at hand in all the variety of culinary skill, and not a soul in the house durst lay a hand upon his knife and fork but himself.  In the morning, when the family were to be seen around the kitchen table at their plain but substantial breakfast, Denis was lording it in solitary greatness over an excellent breakfast of tea and eggs in another room.