Some of these stories may be old, in which case I can only apologise for giving them here.

Dublin people have always had the gift of coining extremely felicitous nicknames.  I refrain from quoting those bestowed on two recent Viceroys, for they are mordant and uncomplimentary, though possibly not wholly undeserved.  My father was at once christened “Old Splendid,” an appellation less scarifying than some of those conferred on his successors.  My father had some old friends living in the west of Ireland, a Colonel Tenison, and his wife, Lady Louisa Tenison.  Colonel Tenison had one of the most gigantic noses I have ever seen, a vast, hooked eagle’s beak.  He was so blind that he had to feel his way about.  Lady Louisa Tenison allowed herself an unusual freedom of speech, and her comments on persons and things were unconventionally outspoken.  They came to stay with us at the Castle in 1867, and before they had been there twenty-four hours they were christened “Blind Hookey” and “Unlimited Loo.”

In February 1867 my sister, brother and I contracted measles, and were sent out to the “Lodge” to avoid spreading infection.

We were already convalescent, when one evening a mysterious stranger arrived from the Castle, and had an interview with the governess.  As a result of that interview, the kindly old lady began clucking like a scared hen, fussed quite prodigiously, and told us to collect our things at once, as we were to start for the Castle in a quarter of an hour.  After a frantically hurried packing, we were bustled into the carriage, the mysterious stranger taking his seat on the box.  To our surprise we saw some thirty mounted Hussars at the door.  As we moved off, to our unspeakable delight, the Hussars drew their swords and closed in on the carriage, one riding at either window.  And so we drove through Dublin.  We had never had an escort before, and felt immensely elated and dignified.  At the Castle there seemed to be some confusion.  I heard doors banging and people moving about all through the night.

Long afterwards I learnt that the great Fenian rising was fixed for that night.  The authorities had heard that part of the Fenian plan was to capture the Viceregal Lodge, and to hold the Lord-Lieutenant’s children as hostages, which explains the arrival at the Lodge of Chief Inspector Dunn, the frantic haste, and the escort of Hussars with drawn swords.

That night an engagement, or it might more justly be termed a skirmish, did take place between the Fenians and the troops at Tallagh, some twenty miles from Dublin.  My brothers and most of my father’s staff had been present, which explained the mysterious noises during the night.  As a result of this fight, some three hundred prisoners were taken, and Lord Strathnairn, then Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, was very hard put to it to find sufficient men (who, of course, would have to be detached from his force) to escort the prisoners into Dublin.  Lord Strathnairn