274 LIFE IN IRELAND 



van on his cream-coloured charger, which was given 

 him by the King, because he thought the animal not 

 worth taking back again to England ; to be sure he 

 was windgall'd, spavin'd, and lame, and had a touch of 

 the glanders : but no matter, the cast-off horse of a 

 King makes a good hack for a subject, just as good 

 as a cast-off mistress makes a good wife for a noble 

 general — in a general way. 



The entrance to Darby Pheely's is one not very im- 

 posing ; a large limekiln smokes on the left^ and on the 

 right a pigstye and horse laundry hems you in pretty 

 lightly. 



Darby has a contract for washing stable furniture, 

 and therefore has dignified his scouring yard with the 

 title of horse laundry ; and there is not an ass in Dublin 

 who owns a horse, that does not employ Darby Pheely 

 to keep his accoutrements in order. 



At the door of the shrubbery. Darby received the 

 dashing party with his usual politeness ; he threw back 

 his hind leg, and made a reverence with his head, 

 which he bent forward, and his yellow locks hung 

 down over his broad forehead, like candle wicks that 

 had got but one dip and streamed for another. 



Darby was an odd fellow all over, and not to be 

 paralleled as a cock-fighter in the land. 



The house into which our party entered was made 

 of mud and timber, and if not a solid edifice, was a 

 most substantial one for good eating, drinking, and all 

 that is reckoned good in this world. 



It was built in good King William's da,ys, by one 

 Tyro Trump; he kept it as a public-house to bring 

 rebels together to plot against the government, and 



