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 iself. 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
