LIFE IN IRELAND 167 



John M JF, who for a time kept her in splendour \ 



but his concerns failing, he bolted to ^ the Islafid,^ and 

 abandoned her, for a good reason — he could not afford 

 to keep himself. Captain Skillett, of the Commissary 

 department, now became her friend ; she had good 

 lodgings in (or near) the gaol of Kilmanham, and a 

 fresh horse to ride upon every day : this was a thing of 

 real true necessity, as she generally came home on foot, 

 for she never failed to sell the animal on which she 

 FLEW OFF in the morning. Old Mr. Skillett bore this 

 till he could bear it no longer ; he had nineteen bad 

 HORSES to pay for, which, with the Forage she con- 

 sumed, has booked hi?n so deep at headquarters^ that he 

 had to retire and vegetate upon his half-pay : vegetation 

 is of a very slow description, and Sally Jenkinson 

 did not wish to be planted in a country garden as a 

 sickly shrub — no ; she thought herself a healthy and 

 flourishing exotic, and of course in great demand for 

 home consumption. She was no fool, and when Brian 

 BoRU met her, she was taking the air upon ^2^40 per 

 annum, which she had whistled out of her three ad- 

 mirers. What they did in Stewart's Glade, is as 

 w^ell known to Lord Stewart in Vienna, as to me 

 in Dublin. Much chat passed betwixt them as they 

 threaded down to Todhunter's Coffee-House, w^here 

 they partook of a splendid breakfast, and turned up a 

 tumbler of champaigne more than once, Sally Jenkin- 

 son drinking with enthusiasm — ' Real Pain to our sham 

 friends^ and Shampaine to our Real Friends.' — Here, 

 said Brian, is a toast which I feel assured ray landlord 

 will pledge me in. By my soul, said Todhunter, 

 and I will do that same — right or left — wrong or right. 



