Barry looked round for something wherewith to avenge himself for this, but Jacky was out of his reach; so he merely muttered some customary but inaudible curses, and turned into the house.

He immediately took pen, ink, and paper, and, writing the following note dispatched it to Tuam, by Terry, mounted for the occasion, and directed on no account to return without an answer.  If Mr Daly wasn’t at home, he was to wait for his return; that is, if he was expected home that night.

   Dunmore House, Feb. 1844.

   My dear Sir,

I wish to consult you on legal business, which will bear no delay.  The subject is of considerable importance, and I am induced to think it will be more ably handled by you than by Mr Blake, my father’s man of business.  There is a bed at your service at Dunmore House, and I shall be glad to see you to dinner to-morrow.

   I am, dear Sir, Your faithful servant,

   BARRY LYNCH.

   P.S.—­You had better not mention in Tuam that you are coming
   to me,—­not that my business is one that I intend to keep
   secret.

   J. Daly, Esq., Solicitor, Tuam.

In about two hours’ time, Terry had put the above into the hands of the person for whom it was intended, and in two more he had brought back an answer, saying that Mr Daly would be at Dunmore House to dinner on the following day.  And Terry, on his journey there and back, did not forget to tell everyone he saw, from whom he came, and to whom he was going.

VIII.  MR MARTIN KELLY RETURNS TO DUNMORE

We will now return to Martin Kelly.  I have before said that as soon as he had completed his legal business,—­namely, his instructions for the settlement of Anty Lynch’s property, respecting which he and Lord Ballindine had been together to the lawyer’s in Clare Street,—­he started for home, by the Ballinasloe canal-boat, and reached that famous depot of the fleecy tribe without adventure.  I will not attempt to describe the tedium of that horrid voyage, for it has been often described before; and to Martin, who was in no ways fastidious, it was not so unendurable as it must always be to those who have been accustomed to more rapid movement.  Nor yet will I attempt to put on record the miserable resources of those, who, doomed to a twenty hours’ sojourn in one of these floating prisons, vainly endeavour to occupy or amuse their minds.  But I will advise any, who from ill-contrived arrangements, or unforeseen misfortune, [15] may find themselves on board the Ballinasloe canal-boat, to entertain no such vain dream.  The vis inertiae [16] of patient endurance, is the only weapon of any use in attempting to overcome the lengthened ennui of this most tedious transit.  Reading is out of the question.  I have tried it myself, and seen others try it, but in vain.  The sense of the motion, almost imperceptible, but still perceptible;