"Whist! we'll not say one word about it, and maybe then they'll
never miss the little drop you have taken."
Some of these stories may be old, in which case I can only
apologise for giving them here.
Dublin people have always had the gift of coining extremely
felicitous nicknames. I refrain from quoting those bestowed on two
recent Viceroys, for they are mordant and uncomplimentary, though
possibly not wholly undeserved. My father was at once christened
"Old Splendid," an appellation less scarifying than some of those
conferred on his successors. My father had some old friends living
in the west of Ireland, a Colonel Tenison, and his wife, Lady
Louisa Tenison. Colonel Tenison had one of the most gigantic noses
I have ever seen, a vast, hooked eagle's beak. He was so blind
that he had to feel his way about. Lady Louisa Tenison allowed
herself an unusual freedom of speech, and her comments on persons
and things were unconventionally outspoken. They came to stay with
us at the Castle in 1867, and before they had been there twenty-
four hours they were christened "Blind Hookey" and "Unlimited
Loo.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138