I
remember well our dinner on the Tuesday night. On the Monday we dined
alone, directors and officers only, but on Tuesday the week's hospitality
began. That night our table was graced with five or six guests, one
being Robert Martin, of Ross, a famous wit and _raconteur_, and the
author of _Killaloe_. It was a delightful party, for your Galway
gentleman is a genial fellow, who likes a good dinner, and a good story
which he tells to perfection. Sir Ralph never took the head of the
table, liking best a less prominent seat; but his seat, wherever he chose
to sit, always seemed to be to the central place. Never lacking natural
dignity, he was not punctilious in mere matters of form. Secure in his
authority, to its outward semblance he was rather indifferent. Another
delightful guest was Sir George (then Mr.) Morris, brother of the late
Lord Morris, the distinguished judge. Until a few months previously, Mr.
Morris had been a director of the company, but had resigned upon his
appointment to the position of Vice-President of the Irish Local
Government Board. He, too, was a Galway man, big, handsome, with a fine
flowing beard, a fund of humour, and the most genial disposition
imaginable.
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