“Oh, I hope not,” said General Belch; “but there may be some breakers ahead.  If we lose the Grant it won’t be the first cause or man that has been betrayed by the bottle.  Condor, let me fill your glass.  It is clear that if our dear friend Newt has a weakness it is the bottle; and if our enemies at Washington, who want to head off this Grant, have a strength, it is finding out an adversary’s soft spot.  We may find in this case that it’s dangerous playing with edged tools.  But I’ve great faith in his want of principle.  We can show him so clearly that his interest, his advance, his career depend so entirely upon his conduct, that I think we can keep him straight.  And, for my part, if we can only work this Grant through, I shall retire upon my share of the proceeds, and leave politics to those who love ’em.  But I don’t mean to have worked for nothing—­hey, Condor?”

“Amen,” replied William, placidly.

“By-the-by, Condor,” said Mr. Enos Slugby.

Mr. Condor turned toward him inquiringly.

“I heard Jim say t’other day—­”

“Who’s Jim?” asked Condor.

“Jim!” returned Slugby, “Jim—­why, Jim’s the party in my district.”

“Oh yes—­yes; I beg pardon,” said Condor; “the name had escaped me.”

“Well, I heard Jim say t’other day that Mr. William Condor was getting too d——­d stuck up, and that he’d yank him out of his office if he didn’t mind his eye.  That’s you, Condor; so I advise you to look out.  It’s easy enough to manage Jim, if you take care.  He’ll go as gently as a well-broke filly; but if he once takes a lurch—­if he thinks you’re too ‘proud’ or ‘big,’ it’s all up with you.  So mind how you treat Jim.”

“Well, well,” said Belch, impatiently; “we’ve other business on hand now.”

“Exactly,” said Condor; “we are the Honorable Abel’s Jim.  Turn about is fair play.  Jim makes us go; we make Abel go.  It’s a lovely series of checks and balances.”

He said it so quietly and airily that they all laughed.  Then the General continued: 

“We’re going to send Newt to look after Ele, and I rather think we shall have to send somebody to look after Newt.  However, we’ll see.  Let’s leave this hog to snore by himself.”

They rose as he spoke.

“What were the words of your resolution, Belch?” asked William Condor, with his eyes twinkling.  “I don’t quite remember.  Did you say,” he added, looking at Abel, who lay huddled, dead drunk, in his chair, “that he dedicated to his country his profoundest and sincerest, or sincerest and profoundest convictions?”

“And you, Condor,” said Enos Slugby, smiling, as he lighted a fresh cigar, “did you say that you were proud and happy, or happy and proud, to call him your friend?”

“Lord!  Lord! what an old hum it is—­isn’t it?” said General Belch, cheerfully, as he smoothed his hat with his coat-sleeve, and put it on.

They went down stairs laughing and chatting; and the Honorable Abel Newt, the worthy exemplar of the purest republican virtues—­as the resolution stated when it appeared in the next morning’s papers—­was left snoring amidst his constituency of empty decanters and drained glasses.