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Lord Avonmore

Irish Humour Home




Curran was often annoyed when pleading before Lord Avonmore, owing to
his lordship's habit of being influenced by first impressions. He and
Curran were to dine together at the house of a friend, and the
opportunity was seized by Curran to cure his lordship's habit of
anticipating.

Why, Mr. Curran, you have kept us a full hour waiting dinner for you,
grumbled out Lord Avonmore. Oh, my dear Lord, I regret it much; you
must know it seldom happens, but--I've just been witness to a most
melancholy occurrence. My God! you seem terribly moved by it--take a
glass of wine. What was it?--what was it?--I will tell you, my Lord,
the moment I can collect myself. I had been detained at Court--in the
Court of Chancery--your Lordship knows the Chancellor sits late. I do,
I do--but go on.--Well, my Lord, I was hurrying here as fast as ever
I could--I did not even change my dress--I hope I shall be excused for
coming in my boots? Poh, poh--never mind your boots: the point--come
at once to the point of the story.--Oh--I will, my good Lord, in a
moment. I walked here--I would not even wait to get the carriage
ready--it would have taken time, you know. Now there is a market exactly
in the road by which I had to pass--your Lordship may perhaps recollect
the market--do you? To be sure I do--go on, Curran--go on with the
story.--I am very glad your Lordship remembers the market, for I
totally forget the name of it--the name--the name-- What the devil
signifies the name of it, sir?--it's the Castle Market.--Your Lordship
is perfectly right--it is called the Castle Market. Well, I was passing
through that very identical Castle Market, when I observed a butcher
preparing to kill a calf. He had a huge knife in his hand--it was as
sharp as a razor. The calf was standing beside him--he drew the knife to
plunge it into the animal. Just as he was in the act of doing so, a
little boy about four years old--his only son--the loveliest little baby
I ever saw, ran suddenly across his path, and he killed--oh, my God! he
killed-- The child! the child! the child! vociferated Lord Avonmore.
No, my Lord, the calf, continued Curran, very coolly; he killed the
calf, but--your Lordship is in the habit of anticipating.





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Previous: The Monks Of The Screw



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