My mother's
courage was loudly praised, but I think that my friends O'Connor
and little Byrne, the postilions, also deserve quite a good mark,
for they ran the same amount of risk, and they were no entirely
free agents in the matter, as my father and mother were.
Dr. Hatchell, who attended us all, had been physician to countless
Viceroys and their families, and was a very well-known figure in
Dublin. He was a jolly little red-faced man with a terrific
brogue. There was a great epidemic of lawlessness in Dublin at
that time. Many people were waylaid and stripped of their
valuables in dark suburban streets. Dr. Hatchell was returning
from a round of professional visits in the suburbs one evening,
when his carriage was stopped by two men, who seized the horses'
heads. One of the men came round to the carriage door.
"We know you, Dr. Hatchell, so you had better hand over your watch
and money quietly." "You know me," answered the merry little
doctor, with his tremendous brogue, "so no doubt you would like me
to prescribe for you. I'll do it with all the pleasure in life.
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