in getting up a polemical discussion, on the merits of the Protestant and Popish creeds.  The particulars have not been decided upon, but they shall probably appear in an early number of our paper.  In the meantime we are authorized by Mr. Darby O’Drive to issue a formal challenge to any Popish and idolatrous bailiff in Ireland, to discuss with him the relative powers, warrants, processes, triumphs, conflagrations, and executions of their resspective churches.”

     * This expression has been attributed to Faulkner, the
     printer of Swift’s works; but it is much more likely that it
     belongs to the Dean himself.

He had scarcely finished this characteristic paragraph, when O’Drive’s knock, as usual, was heard, and in a few minutes the redoubted champion and challenger entered.  There was a knavish demureness about him, and a kind of comic solemnity in his small, cunning gray eye, that no painter could copy.

“Why, you scoundrel,” said Val, “you’re overdoing the thing altogether; is it possible that M’Slime is such a spooney as not to see through you?”

“Ah, Captain, you don’t make any allowance for my simplicity; sure you know, sir, I must grow young and innocent, if I’m to become a babe of grace, your worship.”

“But what’s the meaning of all this work about discussions and such stuff?”

“Faith, sir, it’s all thrue enough at any rate; we’re to have a religious field day here in the Sessions house of Castle Cumber; the whole thing is regulated—­the seconds, and bottle houlders, and all is appointed.  There’s the Rev. Christopher Gammon, Rev. Vesuvius M’Slug, who’s powerful against Popery, the Rev. Bernard Brimstone, and the Rev. Phineas Lucre, with many more on the side of truth.  On that of Popery and falsehood there’s the Rev. Father M’Stake, the Rev. Father O’Flary, the Rev. Father M’Fire, and the Rev. Nicholas O’Scorch, D.D.  Dr. Sombre is to be second on our side; and Father M’Fud on the part of Popery and idolatry.”

“And when is this precious spouting match to take place, you rascal?”

“Why, sir, on Monday week; and on next Sunday, sir, I’m to read my rekintation, plaise God.”

“But I didn’t intend that you should go to such lengths as that—­however, that’s your own affair.”

“But, Captain ahagur, sure it’s on your account I’m doin’ it—­won’t it enable me to get the blind side of him about one or two tilings we want to come at.”

“Indeed, I believe certainly, that if he has a blind side at all, it is his own hypocrisy.”

“Be my soul, and it’ll go hard or we’ll worm out the sacret we want.  There is one tiling I’m sartin of, he thinks, now that I’m turnin’ by the way, that I’m ready to desart and desave you, Captain, an’ indeed he says many things of you that he ought not to’ say.”

“Let us hear them.”

“Why, sir, he said the other day—­but sorra one o’ me likes to be repeatin’ these things.”