‘Of course, not in the Castle,’ she replied with dignity; ’but in your profession, and when you are on circuit, surely you must meet a good many?’

‘Occasionally—­in the dock,’ he drily retorted, after which she discreetly dropped the subject.

Lord Aberdeen was most exemplary during his brief tenure of office, and certainly it was not in his time that the folk christened the royal box at the theatre the ‘loose box,’ in allusion to the rather dubious English guests of the vivacious viceroy.

Lord Londonderry and Lord Zetland may be both briefly bracketed together as having done their duty admirably in times less out of joint than those of their predecessors.  Lord Londonderry always drank Irish whisky himself, and recommended it to his guests as a capital beverage—­a thing which the licensed victuallers did not mind mentioning to Paddy and Mick when they were having a drop, despite their vaunted contempt of all at ‘the Castle.’

No other Lord-Lieutenant ever had such a mournful experience as Lord Houghton.  Son of Monckton Milnes, the ‘cool of the evening,’ he needed his father’s temperament to enable him to endure the boycott which Irish society inflicted on him as the representative of the Home Rule disruption policy.  With no class did he go down, and on a crowded market-day in Tralee not a hat was raised to him.

One of his A.D.C.’s was subsequently on the veldt, and when asked if it was not lonely, he replied:—­

‘Not more than Dublin Castle, when Houghton was the king.’

On one occasion some people were officially commanded to dine.  Not a carriage was to be seen as they drove up to the Viceregal Lodge, so the gentleman told his coachman to drive round the Phoenix Park, as they must be too early.  There was still no sign of any gathering as they again approached the official residence, and when they entered they found they were the only guests, and the infuriated Lord Houghton, as well as all his household had been kept waiting twenty minutes by this hapless pair.

Another story, which was much enjoyed in Ireland as showing the pomposity of his Excellency, may be recalled.  Whether true it is now difficult to say, but there is no doubt that the tale was started among the very house-party who were at Carton at the time.

The beautiful chatelaine, the lovely Duchess of Leinster, was walking through the fields one Sunday afternoon with Lord Houghton.

They came to a gate, which he opened, but to her astonishment proceeded to walk through it first himself.

The indignant Duchess haughtily remarked:—­

’The Prince of Wales would not think of passing through a gate before me.’

‘That may be; but I represent the Queen,’ replied Lord Houghton, with unruffled imperturbability.

Lord Cadogan and Lord Dudley come so absolutely into contemporary history that on them nothing can here be said, except that their munificence has rendered it impossible for any peer of moderate private means to hold the office.