There were two men in Charles Lever--a glad man and a sad man. The
gaiety was for his youth, when he poured out his "Lorrequers" and
"O'Malleys," all the mirth and memories of his boyhood, all the
tales of fighting and feasting he gleaned from battered, seasoned
old warriors, like Major Monsoon. Even then, Mr. Thackeray, who
knew him, and liked and laughed at him, recognised through his
merriment "the fund of sadness beneath." "The author's character is
NOT humour, but sentiment . . . extreme delicacy, sweetness and
kindliness of heart. The spirits are mostly artificial, the fond is
sadness, as appears to me to be that of most Irish writing and
people." Even in "Charles O'Malley," what a true, dark picture
that is of the duel beside the broad, angry river on the level waste
under the wide grey sky! Charles has shot his opponent, Bodkin, and
with Considine, his second, is making his escape. "Considine cried
out suddenly, 'Too infamous, by Jove: we are murdered men!'"

"'What do you mean?' said I.

"'Don't you see that?' said he, pointing to something black which
floated from a pole at the opposite side of the river.

"'Yes; what is it?'

"'It's his coat they've put upon an oar, to show the people he's
killed--that's all. Every man here's his tenant; and look there!
they're not giving us much doubt as to their intentions.'

"Here a tremendous yell burst forth from the mass of people along
the shore, which, rising to a terrific cry, sank gradually down to a