“No.”

“I do.  He is a gentleman without the slightest squeamishness.  He is perfectly able to see things from particular points of view.  He has great knowledge of the world, and he is a friend of the people, Sir.  His politics are of the right kind,” said General Belch, in a tone which seemed to be setting the tune for any future remarks Mr. Ele might have to make about Mr. Newt—­at public meetings, for instance, or elsewhere.

“I am glad to hear he is a friend of the people,” returned Mr. Ele.

“Yes, Sir, he is the consistent enemy of a purse-proud aristocracy, Sir.”

“Exactly; purse-proud aristocracy,” repeated Mr. Ele, as if conning a lesson by rote.

“Dandled in the lap of luxury, he does not hesitate to descend from it to espouse the immortal cause of popular rights.”

“Popular rights,” returned the Honorable Mr. Ele, studying his lesson.

“Animated by a glowing patriotism, he stands upon the people, and waves above his head the glorious flag of our country.”

“Glorious flag of our country,” responded the other.

“The undaunted enemy of monopoly, he is equally the foe of class legislation and the friend of State rights.”

“Friend of State rights.”

“Ahem!” said General Belch, looking blankly at Mr. Ele, “where was I?”

“Friend of State rights,” parroted Mr. Ele.

“Exactly; oh yes!  And if ever the glorious fabric of our country’s—­our country’s—­our country’s—­d——­ it! our country’s what, Mr. Ele?”

That honorable gentleman was engaged with his own thoughts while he followed with his tongue the words of his friend, so that, perhaps a little maliciously, perhaps a little unconsciously, he went on in the same wooden tone of repetition.

“D——­ it!  Our country’s what, Mr. Ele?”

General Belch looked at his companion.  They both smiled.

“How the old phrases sort o’ slip out, don’t they?” asked the General, squirting.

“They do,” said Mr. Ele, taking snuff.

“Well, now, don’t you see what kind of man Abel Newt is?”

“I do, indeed,” replied Ele.

“I tell you, if you fellows from the city don’t look out for yourselves, you’ll find him riding upon your shoulders.  He is a smart fellow.  I am very sorry for Watkins Bodley.  Any family?”

“Yes—­a good deal,” replied Mr. Ele, vaguely.

“Ah indeed!  Pity! pity!  I suppose, then, that a proper sense of what he owes to his family—­eh?”

“Without question.  Oh! certainly.”

General Belch rose.

“I do not see, then, that we have any thing else that ought to detain you.  I will see Mr. Newt, and let you know.  Good-morning, Mr. Ele—­good-morning, my dear Sir.”

And the General bowed out the representative so imperatively that the Honorable B. Jawley Ele felt very much as if he had been kicked down stairs.