This brogue comes to Sir Michael lawfully enough.  He belongs to one of the fourteen tribes of Galway.  His father, Mr. Martin Morris, was High Sheriff of the County of Galway City in 1841, being the first Catholic who had served that office since the time of Tyrconnel.  His mother was a Blake of Galway, and the family seat, Spiddal, came to them through a Fitzpatrick.  “Remember these things,” said one of the guests to me, a Catholic from the south of Ireland, “and remember that Sir Michael, like myself, and, so far as I know, like every Irish Catholic in this room to-day, is a thoroughgoing Unionist, who would think it midsummer madness to hand Ireland over to the ‘Home Rule’ of the ‘uncrowned king,’ Mr. Parnell, who hasn’t a drop, I believe, of Irish blood in his veins, and who, whatever else he may be, is certainly not a Catholic.  Didn’t Parnell vote at first against religion and in favour of Bradlaugh? and didn’t he do this to force the bargain for the clerical franchise at the Parliamentary conventions?”

“But there are some good Catholics, are there not,” I answered, “and some good Christians, and of Irish blood too, among the associates of Mr. Parnell?”

“Associates!” he exclaimed; “if you know anything of Mr. Parnell, you must know that he has no associates.  He has followers, and he has instruments, but he has no associates.  The only Irishmen whom he has really taken counsel with, or treated, I was about to say, with ordinary civility, were Egan and Brennan.  His manner with them was always conspicuously different from his cold and almost contemptuous bearing towards the men whom he commands in Parliament, and Egan, who directs his forces in your country, rewards him by calling him ’the great and gifted leader of our race!’ ‘Our race’ indeed!  Parnell comes of the conquering race in Ireland, and he never forgets it, or lets his subordinates forget it.  I was in Galway when he came over there suddenly to quell the revolt organised by Healy.  The rebels were at white-heat before he came.  But he strode in among them like a huntsman among the hounds—­marched Healy off into a little room, and brought him out again in ten minutes, cowed and submissive, but filled, as anybody can see, ever since, with a dull smouldering hate which will break out one of these days, if a good and safe opportunity offers.”

“How do you account, then,” I asked, “for the support which all these men give Mr. Parnell?”

“For the support which they give him!” exclaimed my new acquaintance, “for the support they give him!  Bless your heart, my dear sir, it is he gives them the support!  Barring Biggar, who, to do him justice, is as free with his pocket as he is with his tongue—­and no man can say more for anybody than that—­barring Biggar and M’Kenna and M’Carthy, and perhaps a dozen more, all these men are nominated by Mr. Parnell, and draw salaries from the body he controls; they are paid members, like the working-men members.  Support indeed!”