"Those wascally postilions often get dwunk, I suppose?"

"Oh, common enough, sir, particular now about the 'lection time; for the gentlemin is dhrivin' over the country like mad, right and left, and gives the boys money to dhrink their health, till they are killed a'most with the falls they get."

"Then postilions often fall on the woads here?"

"Throth, the roads is covered with them sometimes, when the 'lections comes an."

"What howwid immowality! I hope you're not dwunk?"

"Faix, I wish I was!" said Andy. "It's a great while since I had a dhrop; but it won't be long so, when your honour gives me something to dhrink your health."

"Well, don't talk, but dwive on."

All Andy's further endeavours to get "his honour" into conversation were unavailing; so he whipped on in silence till his arrival at the gate-house of Merryvale demanded his call for entrance.

"What are you shouting there for?" said the traveller; "cawn't you wing?"

"Oh, they understand the _shilloo_ as well, sir;" and in confirmation of Andy's a.s.surance, the bars of the entrance gates were withdrawn, and the post-chaise rattled up the avenue to the house.

Andy alighted, and gave a thundering tantara-ra at the door. The servant who opened it was surprised at the sight of Andy, and could not repress a shout of wonder. Here d.i.c.k Dawson came into the hall, and seeing Andy at the door, gave a loud halloo, and clapped his hands in delight--for he had not seen him since the day of the chase.

"An' is it there you are again, you unlucky vagabone?" said d.i.c.k; "and what brings you here?"

"I come with a jintleman to the masther, Misther d.i.c.k."

"Oh, it's the visitor, I suppose," said d.i.c.k, as he himself went out, with that unceremonious readiness so characteristic of the wild fellow he was, to open the door of the chaise for his brother-in-law's guest.

"You're welcome," said d.i.c.k; "come, step in--the servants will look to your luggage. James, get in Mr. ----, I beg your pardon, but 'pon my soul, I forgot your name, though Moriarty told me."

"Mr. Furlong," gently uttered the youth.

"Get in the luggage, James. Come, sir, walk into the dinner-room: we haven't finished our wine yet." With these words d.i.c.k ushered in Furlong to the apartment where Squire Egan sat, who rose as they entered. "Mr. Furlong, Ned," said d.i.c.k.

"Happy to see you, Mr. Furlong," said the hearty Squire, who shook Furlong's hand in what Furlong considered a most savage manner. "You seem fatigued?"

"Vewy," was the languid reply of the traveller, as he threw himself into a chair.

"Ring the bell for more claret, d.i.c.k," said Squire Egan.

"I neveh dwink."

d.i.c.k and the Squire both looked at him with amazement, for in the friend of Moriarty they expected to find a hearty fellow.

"A cool bottle wouldn't do a child any harm," said the Squire. "Ring, d.i.c.k. And now, Mr. Furlong, tell us how you like the country."

"Not much, I pwotest."

"What do you think of the people?"

"Oh, I don't know:--you'll pawdon me, but--a--in short there are so many wags."

"Oh, there are wags enough, I grant; not funnier d----ls in the world."

"But I mean _wags_--tatters, I mean."

"Oh, rags. Oh, yes--why, indeed, they've not much clothes to spare."

"And yet these wetches are fweeholders, I'm told."

"Ay, and stout voters too."

"Well, that's all we wequire. By-the-bye, how goes on the canva.s.s, Squire?"

"Famously."

"Oh, wait till I explain to you our plan of opewations from head-qwaters.

You'll see how famously we shall wally at the hustings. These _Iwish_ have no idea of tactics: we'll intwoduce the English mode--take them by supwise. We _must_ unseat him."

"Unseat who?" said the Squire.

"That--a--Egan, I think you call him."

The Squire opened his eyes; but d.i.c.k, with the ready devilment that was always about him, saw how the land lay in an instant, and making a signal to his brother-in-law, chimed in with an immediate a.s.sent to Furlong's a.s.sertion, and swore that Egan would be unseated to a certainty. "Come, sir," added d.i.c.k, "fill one b.u.mper at least to a toast I propose. Here's 'Confusion to Egan, and success to O'Grady.'"

"Success to O'Gwady," faintly echoed Furlong, as he sipped his claret.

"These _Iwish_ are so wild--so uncultivated," continued he; "you'll see how I'll supwise them with some of my plans."

"Oh, they're poor ignorant brutes," said d.i.c.k, "that know nothing: a man of the world like you would buy and sell them."

"You see, they've no finesse: they have a certain degwee of weadiness, but no depth--no weal finesse."

"Not as much as would physic a snipe," said d.i.c.k, who swallowed a gla.s.s of claret to conceal a smile.

"What's that you say about snipes and physic?" said Furlong; "what queer things you _Iwish_ do say."

"Oh, we've plenty o' queer fellows here," said d.i.c.k; "but you are not taking your claret."

"The twuth is, I am fatigued--vewy--and if you'd allow me, Mr. O'Gwady, I should like to go to my woom; we'll talk over business to-mowwow."

"Certainly," said the Squire, who was glad to get rid of him, for the scene was becoming too much for his gravity. So d.i.c.k Dawson lighted Furlong to his room, and after heaping civilities upon him, left him to sleep in the camp of his enemies, and then returned to the dining-room, to enjoy with the Squire the laugh they were so long obliged to repress, and to drink another bottle of claret on the strength of the joke.

"What shall we do with him, d.i.c.k?" said the Squire.

"Pump him as dry as a lime-kiln," said d.i.c.k, "and then send him off to O'Grady--all's fair in war."

"To be sure," said the Squire. "Unseat me, indeed! he was near it, sure enough, for I thought I'd have dropped off my chair with surprise when he said it."

"And the conceit and impudence of the fellow," said d.i.c.k. "The ignorant _Iwish_--nothing will serve him but abusing his own countrymen! 'The ignorant Irish!'--oh, is that all you learn in Oxford, my boy?--just wait, my buck--if I don't astonish your weak mind, it's no matter!"