“‘Then,’ said I, ‘you have the less difficulty in keeping them down.’

“’Upon my soul and honor, sir, you don’t know how a naked Papist will run from a gun and bayonet.  I have often seen it.’

“At this moment a tap came to the door, and a servant man, in Orange livery, announced a gentleman to see Mr. Philip M’Clutchy.  I rose to take my departure; but Phil insisted I should stop.

“‘Don’t go, sir,’ said he; ’I have something to propose to you by and by.’  I accordingly took my seat.

“When the gentleman entered, he looked about, and selecting Phil, bowed to him, and then to us.

“‘Ah, Mr. Hartley! how do you do?’ said Val, shaking hands with him; ’and how is your cousin, whom we hope to have the pleasure of beating soon?—­ha, ha, ha.  Take a seat.’

“’Thank you,’said the other; ’but the fact is, that time’s just now precious, and I wish to have a few words with Mr. Philip here.’

“‘What is it, Hartley?  How are you, Hartley?  I’m glad to see you.’

“’Quite well, Phil; but if you have no objection, I would rather speak to you in another room.  It’s a matter of some importance, and of some delicacy, too.’

“‘Oh, curse the delicacy, man; out with it.’

“‘I really cannot, Phil, unless by ourselves.’

“They both then withdrew to the back parlor, where, after a period of about ten minutes, Phil came rushing in with a face on him, and in a state of trepidation utterly indescribable; Hartley, on the other hand, cool and serious, following him.

“‘Phil,’ said he, ’think of what you are about to do.  Don’t exclude yourself hereafter from the rank and privileges of a gentleman.  Pause, if you respect yourself, and regard your reputation as a man of courage.’

“’D——­d fine talk in you—­who—­who’s a fire-eater, Hartley.  What do you think, father—?’ Hartley put, or rather attempted to put his hand across his mouth, to prevent his cowardly and degrading communication; but in vain.  ‘What do you think, father,’ he continued, ’but there’s that cowardly scoundrel, young M’Loughlin, has sent me a challenge?  Isn’t the country come to a pretty pass, when a Papist durst do such a thing?’

“‘Why not a Papist?’ said Hartley.  ’Has not a Papist flesh, and blood, and bones, like another man?  Is a Papist to be insensible to insult?  Is he to sit down tamely and meanly under disgrace and injury?  Has he no soul to feel the dignity of just resentment?  Is he not to defend his sister, when her character has been basely and treacherously ruined?  Is he to see her stretched on her death-bed, by your villainy, and not to avenge her?  By heavens, if, under the circumstances of the provocation which you gave him, and his whole family, he would be as mean and cowardly a poltroon as I find you to be—­if he suffered—­’

“‘Do you call me a poltroon?’ said Phil, so shivering and pale, that his voice betrayed his cowardice.