“Ay,” he proceeded, standing on the altar, “it is well known to our disgrace and shame how the election was lost.  Oh, well may I say to our disgrace and shame.  Little did I think that any one, bearing the once respectable name of M’Mahon upon him, should turn from the interests of his holy church, spurn all truth, violate all principle, and enter into a league of hell with the devil and the enemies of his church.  Yes, you apostate,” he proceeded, “you have entered into a league with him, and ever since there is devil within you.  You sold yourself to his agent and representative, Vanston, You got him to interfere for you with the Board of Excise, and the fine that was justly imposed on you for your smugglin’ and distillin’ whiskey—­not that I’m runin’ down our whiskey, because it’s the best drinkin of that kind we have, and drinks beautiful as scalhleen, wid a bit of butther and sugar in it—­but it’s notorious that you went to Vanston, and offered if he’d get the fine off you, that you’d give him your vote; an’ if that’s not sellin’ yourself to the devil, I don’t know what is.  Judas did the same thing when he betrayed our Savior—­the only difference is—­that he got a thirty shilling note—­an’ God knows it was a beggarly bargain—­when his hand was in he ought to have done the thing dacent—­and you got the fine taken off you; that’s the difference—­that’s the difference.  But there’s more to come—­more corruption where that was.  Along wid the removal of the fine you got a better note than Mr. Judas got.  Do you happen to know anything about a fifty pound note cut in two halves?  Eh?  Am I tickling you?  Do you happen to know anything about that, you traicherous apostate?  If you don’t, I do; and plaise God before many hours the public will know enough of it, too.  How dare you, then, polute the house of God, or come in presence of His Holy altar, wid such a crust of crimes upon your soul?  Can you deny that you entered into a league of hell wid the devil and Major Vanston, and that you promised him your vote if he’d get the fine removed?”

“I can,” replied Bryan; “there’s not one word of truth in it.”

“Do you hear that, my friends?” exclaimed the priest; “he calls your priest a liar upon the altar of the livin’ God.”

Here M’Mahon was assailed by such a storm of groans and hisses as, to say the least of it, was considerably at variance with the principles of religion and the worship of God.

“Do you deny,” the priest proceeded, “that you received a bribe of fifty pounds on the very day you voted?  Answer me that.”

“I did receive a fifty-pound note in a—­”

Further he could not proceed.  It was in vain that he attempted to give a true account of the letter and its enclosure; the enmity was not confined to either groans or hisses.  He was seized upon in the very chapel, dragged about in all directions, kicked, punched, and beaten, until the apprehension of having a murder committed in presence of God’s altar caused the priest to interfere.  M’Mahon, however, was ejected from the chapel; but in such a state that, for some minutes, it could scarcely be ascertained whether he was alive or dead.  After he had somewhat recovered, his friends assisted him home, where he lay confined to a sick bed for better than a week.