As for me, he was everything to me.

Mike informed me what horse was wrong, why the chestnut mare couldn't go out, and why the black horse could.

He knew the arrival of a new covey of partridge quicker than the "Morning Post" does of a noble family from the Continent, and could tell their whereabouts twice as accurately.

But his talents took a wider range than field sports afford, and he was the faithful chronicler of every wake, station, wedding, or christening for miles round; and as I took no small pleasure in those very national pastimes, the information was of great value to me.

To conclude this brief sketch, Mike was a devout Catholic in the same sense that he was enthusiastic about anything,--that is, he believed and obeyed exactly as far as suited his own peculiar notions of comfort and happiness.