purpose and character in his way, for he had
begun life with literally nothing, and ended it
in possession of great wealth. He started, he
told a friend, "with but one hundred pounds
in the world, and of that he was robbed by his
cousin;" and indeed the whole of this story
gives us strange glimpses of the "old Ireland"
lingering behind in the West.

In a short time the county of Roscommon
was excited by learning that "old Kelly" had
come down in true style, his postilions with
white favours, this doubtful lady inside, and
two more ladies of the same quality seated on
the box. It was given out that he had married
the lady seated inside, and a numerous party
of relations was thrown into consternation by
the announcement. Later on there was a ball
given in the county-town, and the old gentleman
had the hardihood to present himself
with his new partner. The scene was long
talked of, and it was remembered that the
decorous ladies of the district, instead of
requiring the intruder to be turned out, had
themselves retired in disorder, and broken up
the ball.

The relations did not know what to do, but
they were no match for the strong-minded,
determined woman. Her power was supreme,
and strengthened every hour. She could do
what she pleased with Kelly. The disreputable
old gentleman seemed to grow more
and more attached to her every day.

The relatives she was thus gradually
depriving of all hope, were nearly driven frantic.
They all seemed to be in a chronic state of
bankruptcy; indeed the whole picture of the
characters in this drama is most characteristic.
One solicitor-relative owned that his circumstances
"became embarrassed, and I was necessarily
obliged to remain at home, almost constantly,
but not of necessity. It was rather a retirement
from public life." This exquisite description is
given in all gravity and seriousness. The
disreputable old gentleman wrote to an acquaintance,
that he had seen in the papers "the severe
beating my friend Mr. Gorman got, which I
fancied was only a wetting. I am most anxious
to hear, until," he adds, piously, "it be the will
of the Almighty, he is recovered. I spoke to
him when I saw him last to be guarded." The
disreputable old gentleman was given credit
for an illegitimate daughter, whom, under
influences, he now altogether declined to
acknowledge. This lady had married an Englishman,
Mr. Yeatman, who, when the parties became
inflamed against each other, was boldly
impeached by Mrs. Kelly as a felon's son, and
who himself was later convicted of crimes,
"sentenced to transportation, and sent upon
the seas." This pair lurked about the little
country town, and laid plots to get at their
wealthy relative. Once as he was riding, he
was told that some one was waiting to see him
on business, on the first-floor of some shop.
But when he found himself face to face with
them, he strode angrily down-stairs. They,
however, swore lustily that he was affectionate,
and became maudlin, bewailing the miserable
bondage in which he was detained, and
promising to do great things for them. When he
got back to the house the old influence asserted
itself. Later, this pair were said to have
reappeared at Brighton, where the husband
threatened serious charges, and required sixty
thousand pounds as the price of silence.
Then came a meeting in the street, and a
charge of assault by the daughter against her
own father, before the Brighton magistrates.
The old man behaved with great intrepidity,
refused to compromise, or to mind the usual
intimations of its being "a painful case,"
and one which should be settled out of court.

All schemes failed. The old man,
however, was growing more infirm and helpless,
and the greedy relatives now begun to protest
he was "weak," that he had been always known
as "Mad Kelly," and that he was heard
protesting he was in beggary, and would die of
starvation. A sympathising friend took
certainly what was a most original way of combating
this delusion, and had a number of large
joints of meat hung round the bed, which the
friend said effectually quieted these
apprehensions. But this success in treatment may
be doubted, for the delusion of the patient
related to future privation, and he might reasonably
imagine, after the supply hung round
him was exhausted, that destitution might
still supervene. Perhaps it was through this
symptom that a curious fancy came into Mrs.
Kelly's head. The malignant relatives had
gone so far as to state that no marriage
ceremony had ever been performed, and that as
soon as old Mr. Kelly departed, this question
would be raised. To quiet these scruples, and
to make assurance surer, they came up to town,
and a mysterious second marriage was
performed in St. Werbergh's Church. Some who
came to make arrangements for this ceremony
declared that they saw an old dotard sitting in
an arm-chair, his head bent down, his body
stooped, and apparently in stupid unconsciousness
of what was going on about him. The
scene in the church was dramatic, the bold,
fearless woman standing beside this old dotard,
whose head at the most critical part of the
service wandered round absently, and had to
be turned back by a friend, to face the clergyman.

The woman, meanwhile, had not forgotten
her old tastes. She had taken a fancy to
another solicitor, and had promised to marry him
when old Kelly's demise, which must have been
earnestly longed for by all parties, took place.
To this gentleman she wrote with a strange
mixture of affection, piety, and bad spelling.

"I always loved you. I beg you not to think
me fictous or changeable ..... so long as the
Lord pleases to spare me in this world."

At last, however, his time came for the
disreputable old gentleman, and he died. Then
was produced a will made a few days after the
second marriage, which gave everything to Mrs.
Kelly. She was mistress in title as she had
before been in deed. But now began the
struggle. The relatives mustered strongly. A