“But,” replied Val, “who ever heard of a bridge without water; and I know there’s not a stream within three miles of you.”

“Never mind that,” replied M’Small, “let me have the bridge first, and we’ll see what can be done about the water afterwards.  If God in his mercy would send a wet winter next season, who knows but we might present for a new river at the January assizes.”

“You must have it,” said Deaker, “give M’Small the bridge, and, as he says, we’ll see afterwards what can be done for a river for it.”

“M’Small,” said Hartley, “what if you’d get a presentment for a couple of mountain water spouts; who knows but it might answer the purpose?”

“I’m afraid,” said M’Small, who, by the way, was a good deal of a humorist, “I fear, Hartley, that the jurisdiction of the grand panel would scarcely reach so high.  In the meantime I shall think of it.”

The bridge, however, was not only passed, but built, and actually stands to this day, an undeniable monument of the frugality and honesty of grand jurors, and the affection which they were then capable of bearing to each other, when their interests happened to be at stake, which was just four times in the year.

In the meantime, the tumultuous battle of jobs in all its noise, recrimination, and jangle of conflicting interests, and incredible selfishness commenced.  There were strong mutual objections to pass the roads to Mr. Lucre and M’Clutehy, and a regular conflict between their respective partisans accordingly took place.  M’Clutchy’s party were absolutely shocked at the grossness and impiety of such a man as Mr. Lucre, a person of such great wealth, an absentee, a nonresident-rector, dipping his hand in the affairs of the county for the sake of a job.

His party, for he had a strong one, dwelt upon his rights as a civil officer, a magistrate, and justice of quorum—­upon his sterling principles as a loyal Protestant, who had rendered very important services to the Church and the government.  It was such as he, they said, who supported the true dignity and respectability of Protestantism, and it would be a scandal to refuse him a road to his glebe.  Deaker groaned several times during this eulogium, and repeated his favorite text—­let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die; but whether its application was designed for Lucre or himself, was not very easy—­perhaps we should rather say difficult to determine.

“That is all very true,” replied Val’s party; “but in the meantime, it would be quite as creditable for him to pay some attention to the spiritual interests of his parish, and the condition of its tottering old church, as to be mulcting the county for a job.”

“What can you know about his church,” inquired Spavin, “who have never been seen in it, except on last Easter Monday, when you were candidate for the church wardenship?  M’Clutehy,” he added, “we all know you are a Protestant of your father’s color; it’s the best Protestantism that puts most into your pocket.”