“Ay,” said he, “it is all right, Tom, certainly—­yes, certainly, it is all right.  Darby, fill Tom a bumper of whiskey—­not that—­I say the large glass, you scoundrel.”

“Throth, Captain, ’tisn’t my heart ’ud hindher me to give him the largest in the house; but I have a conscientious scruple against doin’ what I believe isn’t right.  My Bible tells me—.  Well, well, sure I’m only obeying orders.  Here, Tom,” he added, handing him the large bumper.

“Confound the fellow,” said Val; “ever since he has become a convert to Mr. Lucre there’s no getting a word out of him that hasn’t religion in it.”

“Ah, Captain,” replied Darby, “sure Mr. M’Slime there knows, that ’out of the abundance of the heart the mouth spaiketh.’”

“I cannot answer for what you are latterly, Darby,” replied Solomon—­“thank you, Tom,” to Maguire, who had held his glass in his hand for some time, and at length hurriedly drank their healths;—­“but I know that the first spiritual nutrition you received, was at least from one who belonged to an Apostolical Church—­a voluntary Presbytery—­unpolluted by the mammon of unrighteousness, on which your Church of Ireland is established.”

“But you know,” said Darby, “that we’re ordhered to make for ourselves, friends of that same mammon of unrighteousness.”

“Upon my honor,” said Phil, “I know that you’re a hypocritical old scoundrel.  Be off to h—­l, sir, and hold your tongue.”

“Throth and I will, Captain Phil—­I will then,” and he was silent; but his face, as he glanced first at Tom Maguire, and then at Solomon and the rest, was a perfect jewel, beyond all price.

“Tom,” proceeded Val, “I hope you’ve thought over what I mentioned to you on our canvass the other day?”

“I have, sir,” said Tom, “and I’m still of the same opinion.  I’ll vote for Hartley and no other.”

“You don’t imagine of what service Lord Cumber and I could be of to you.”

“I know of no service Lord Cumber ever was to any of his tenants,” replied Maguire; “except, indeed, to keep them ground to the earth, in supportin’ his extravagance, and that he might spend their hard earnings in another country, not caring one damn whether they live or starve.  It’s for that raison, sir, I vote, and will vote against him.”

“Well, but,” said Val, whose brow began to darken, “you have not considered what an enemy he can be to those like you, whose obstinacy draws down his resentment upon them.  Have you ever considered that—­ eh?”

“I don’t see how he can readily be a worse enemy to me, or any tenant he has, than he is at present.  I’ll trouble you for my receipt, Mr. M’Clutchy, but I won’t vote for him.  I beg your pardon, sir,” said he, on looking at the receipt which Val, as he spoke, had handed to him; “this isn’t signed—­your name’s not to it.”