and sisterly minds are so sweetly susceptible.  “I know half a dozen old windbags at the present moment,” said the doctor, “who were great fellows at debating clubs when they were boys.”  “Phineas is not a boy any longer,” said Mrs. Finn.  “And windbags don’t get college scholarships,” said Matilda Finn, the second daughter.  “But papa always snubs Phinny,” said Barbara, the youngest.  “I’ll snub you, if you don’t take care,” said the doctor, taking Barbara tenderly by the ear;—­for his youngest daughter was the doctor’s pet.

The doctor certainly did not snub his son, for he allowed him to go over to London when he was twenty-two years of age, in order that he might read with an English barrister.  It was the doctor’s wish that his son might be called to the Irish Bar, and the young man’s desire that he might go to the English Bar.  The doctor so far gave way, under the influence of Phineas himself, and of all the young women of the family, as to pay the usual fee to a very competent and learned gentleman in the Middle Temple, and to allow his son one hundred and fifty pounds per annum for three years.  Dr. Finn, however, was still firm in his intention that his son should settle in Dublin, and take the Munster Circuit,—­believing that Phineas might come to want home influences and home connections, in spite of the swanhood which was attributed to him.

Phineas sat his terms for three years, and was duly called to the Bar; but no evidence came home as to the acquirement of any considerable amount of law lore, or even as to much law study, on the part of the young aspirant.  The learned pundit at whose feet he had been sitting was not especially loud in praise of his pupil’s industry, though he did say a pleasant word or two as to his pupil’s intelligence.  Phineas himself did not boast much of his own hard work when at home during the long vacation.  No rumours of expected successes,—­of expected professional successes,—­reached the ears of any of the Finn family at Killaloe.  But, nevertheless, there came tidings which maintained those high ideas in the maternal bosom of which mention has been made, and which were of sufficient strength to induce the doctor, in opposition to his own judgment, to consent to the continued residence of his son in London.  Phineas belonged to an excellent club,—­the Reform Club,—­and went into very good society.  He was hand in glove with the Hon. Laurence Fitzgibbon, the youngest son of Lord Claddagh.  He was intimate with Barrington Erle, who had been private secretary,—­one of the private secretaries,—­to the great Whig Prime Minister who was lately in but was now out.  He had dined three or four times with that great Whig nobleman, the Earl of Brentford.  And he had been assured that if he stuck to the English Bar he would certainly do well.  Though he might fail to succeed in court or in chambers, he would doubtless have given to him some one of those numerous appointments for which none but clever young barristers are supposed