“By the way, will you touch that bell again?—­oh, here he comes.  Sam,” he said, addressing a servant, “get me up a bottle of soda-wather.  Will you have a glass of soda, John?  I dipped a little too deep last night.”

“No, sir, thank you,” replied Purcel, “I was moderate last night; and at all events soda is rather cold for such a day as this is.”

“Well, then can’t you stiffen it with a little brandy?”

“No, thank you, I won’t touch anything at present.  I almost wish, as I was saying,” he proceeded, “that there was the slightest touch of cowardice in you, naturally; because if it could be proved in connection with your official intrepidity, you would deserve everything that a government could bestow upon you.”

“Faith and honor, that is certainly putting the argument in an extremely new point of view, and I agree with you, John; that is—­that—­let me see—­the more cowardly the man the braver the magistrate.  Well, I don’t know that aither.”

“No, no!” replied John, “I don’t mean that.”

“Well, what do you mane? for I thought I undherstood you a while ago, although find that I don’t now.”

“I mean,” proceeded the other, “that when a man who is naturally cowardly—­I don’t mean, of course, a poltroon, but timid—­proves himself to be firm, resolute, and intrepid in the discharge of his duties as a magistrate, such a man deserves a civic crown.”

“A what?”

“A civic crown.  Of course you know what that is.”

“Of coorse I do, John; and upon my honor and conscience there is great truth in what you say.  I could name you a magistrate who, I believe, as a magistrate, could not very aisily be bate, and yet who, without being a downright coward, is for all that no hairo to his valley de sham, as they say.”

“My father was talking about you last night, sir, and I think before long he will be able to put you on the scent of as pretty a conspiracy as was ever detected.  He had some notion of opening a communication with government himself upon the subject; but I suggested—­that is, I took the liberty, sir, if you will excuse me, but if I erred I assure you Mr. O’Driscol, my intentions were good—­I say I took the liberty, sir, of suggesting that it would be better to place the matter in your hands, as a person possessing more influence with your friend, the Castle, and more conversant with the management of a matter that is too important to be in any but official hands.  I have time at the preset only to allude to it, for I see Mr. Darby Hourigan there waiting to prosecute, or as he says to take the law of, your humble servant.”

“Hang the scoundrel, what a hurry he is in!  How did you quarrel with him?”

“Faith, sir, in the first place, he was insolent and offensive beyond all patience.”

“Yes, my dear John,” observed O’Driscol, with a good deal of solemn pomp, especially as the magistrate was beginning to supersede the man, “all that is very provoking, but at the same time you know the horsewhip is an illaygal instrument.”