I cannot but contrast him with one I know of whose prospects appeared equally bright, though his education was not at all the equal of this man's. However, he might have done much with his life, but marrying a rich wife he promptly resigned and "sat down to good dinners," amounting now to absolutely nothing, his career ended.
Abandoning the rescue of the duck house together with graver questions, we adjourn to the gardens and consume half an hour, and also a lot of the biggest strawberries I have ever eaten.
Time flies. Tea on the terrace, to which more motors have brought other guests, dinner, and the night are over and gone, and we have rolled away, waving thanks to our host and hostess for the pleasant "week end" at Powerscourt House.
Dublin--Derby Day and the Rush to the Curragh--An Irish Crowd--The Kildare Street Club and Club Life--Jigginstown House and its History--The Cowardice of a King--The Old Woman on the Tram Car--Parnell--The Grave of Daniel O'Connell.
Given the capital of Ireland, a bright day in the midsummer of an exposition year, with the King almost here, and above all the Derby at hand, and if you are looking for peace and quiet you should go elsewhere. All Dublin is in an uproar this morning and there is not a jaunting-car which will look at you for less than double the tariff. Stately equipages move slowly along, motors of all descriptions pass like the wind. The beggars are out in full force and if you have a heart in your bosom you will reach the race-track with not a shilling left you. Our motor dashes around the corner and up to the door as though it were new instead of some years of age. The spirit of the races seems to have gotten into its old bones and it shrieks and snorts and rushes off with us at an appalling pace notwithstanding the crowded streets and stone pavements. Out on to the broad highway to the south in company with the whole town we roll onward past the ruins of Jigginstown House.
[Illustration: Photo by W. Leonard Great Salon, Powerscourt House]
Of the thousands who come this way to-day, few give thought to the house or its history. They have little time for the past as just a few miles beyond is the famous Curragh of Kildare, a stretch of the most marvellous grass-lands in the world, where the turf is of greatest richness and elasticity. Not for this, and yet because of this, the people flock four times a year in tens of thousands to worship there at the altar of the noble horse. The Curragh holds Ireland's greatest race-course, and has held it for two thousand years. The winner of the last English Derby is to be on hand and to race to-day and nearly all Ireland is en route to be present.