“True, John, it is such men, or rather magistrates, who can render the most important services to government.  The duties of a loyal and attached magistrate are not a mere raycrayation during these times.  And yet, John,” he added, sinking his voice into a confidential whisper, “I protest to my honor that the life of a man—­I mane, as you say, a magistrate—­who resolves firmly to perform his duty, is not extramely safe; why then should a man—­I mane a magistrate—­unnecessarily expose himself to the fate of Going,* when he might much more safely remain snug and quiet, without putting either himself or his neighbors to inconvanience by an over-strict discharge of his duty?”

     [* The name of a magistrate and clergyman, I think, who was
     assassinated.]

“If everything be true that I have heard,” said John, “the government would scarcely expect to hear such sentiments from the intelligent and determined Mr. O’Driscol.”

“Ha! ha! ha!—­well done, John,—­I drew you out.  Upon my honor, I am glad to find that you are loyal, at all events, and that is a rare virtue among most persons of your creed;—­excuse me, but, except in name, I can scarcely consider you as belonging to it.

“Why, sir,” replied John, “I trust I am a firm, but not a bigoted Catholic.”

“Roman Catholic, John, always say, if you plaise; we claim to be the true Catholics you know; and for that raison it is better always to avoid confusion.”

“As to that, we shall not quarrel about it, I trust,” replied Purcel; “but with respect to another point, there is only one opinion, Mr. O’Driscol, and that is, that you are a most resolute and determined man.”

“Magistrate you mane, I think, John; so magistrate, if you plaise—­ha! ha!’ ha!  By the way will you touch the bell?  Thank you.”

“I beg your pardon,” proceeded Purcel, having touched the bell, “I should have said magistrate:  because it very often happens that whilst the man is a coward, the magistrate is as brave as the Duke of Wellington.”

“Upon my honor and conscience, there may be some truth in that,” said O’Driscol, nodding, but at the same time not exactly appropriating the category to himself; “but how do you make that appear, John?”

“Why,” replied Purcel, who, between ourselves, was a bit of a wag in his way, “it proceeds from the spirit of his office.  Take a magistrate, for instance, as a man—­a mere man; place him in the ordinary situations of society; let him ride home at night, for instance, through a disturbed district like this, which, if he is wise, he will avoid doing, or let him be seen in an isolated position even in daylight without protection, and you will find him a coward of the first shaking.  On the contrary, place him, as a magistrate, at the head of a body of police or military, and where will you witness such courage?  That, then, is the individual, I say, who being naturally a coward as a man, goes through his duty with courage as a magistrate; I say this is the individual whom the government should reward with especial favor.”