people with whom his lady associated, and heartily weary of them,
he retreated from them altogether, and sought entertainment and
self-complacency in society beneath him--indeed, both in rank and
education, but in which he had the satisfaction of feeling himself the
first person in company. Of these associates, the first in talents, and
in jovial profligacy, was Sir Terence O'Fay--a man of low extraction,
who had been knighted by an Irish lord-lieutenant in some convivial
frolic. No one could tell a good story, or sing a good song better
than Sir Terence; he exaggerated his native brogue, and his natural
propensity to blunder, caring little whether the company laughed at him
or with him, provided they laughed. 'Live and laugh--laugh and live,'
was his motto; and certainly he lived on laughing, as well as many
better men can contrive to live on a thousand a year.

Lord Clonbrony brought Sir Terence home with him next day to introduce
him to Lord Colambre; and it happened that on this occasion Terence
appeared to peculiar disadvantage, because, like many other people, 'Il
gatoit l'esprit qu'il avoit en voulant avoir celui qu'il n'avoit pas.'

Having been apprised that Lord Colambre was a fine scholar, fresh from
Cambridge, and being conscious of his own deficiencies of literature,
instead of trusting to his natural talents, he summoned to his aid, with
no small effort, all the scraps of learning he had acquired in early
days, and even brought before the company all the gods and goddesses
with whom he had formed an acquaintance at school. Though embarrassed
by this unusual encumbrance of learning, he endeavoured to make all
subservient to his immediate design, of paying his court to Lady
Clonbrony, by forwarding the object she had most anxiously in view--the
match between her son and Miss Broadhurst.