“O dear me, yes,” said I, getting up and stepping forward.  “I am a quiet, peaceable young man, and, being so, am always ready to fight against the Pope—­the enemy of all peace and quiet—­to refuse fighting for the aristocracy is a widely different thing from refusing to fight against the Pope—­so come on, if you are disposed to fight for him.  To the Pope broken bells, to Saint James broken shells.  No Popish vile oppression, but the Protestant succession.  Confusion to the Groyne, hurrah for the Boyne, for the army at Clonmel, and the Protestant young gentlemen who live there as well.”

“An Orangeman,” said the man in black.

“Not a Platitude,” said I.

The man in black gave a slight start. {110}

“Amongst that family,” said I, “no doubt something may be done, but amongst the Methodist preachers I should conceive that the success would not be great.”

The man in black sat quite still.

“Especially amongst those who have wives,” I added.

The man in black stretched his hand towards his gin and water.

“However,” said I, “we shall see what the grand movement will bring about, and the results of the lessons in elocution.”

The man in black lifted the glass up to his mouth, and in doing so, let the spoon fall.

“But what has this to do with the main question?” said I:  “I am waiting here to fight against the Pope.”

“Come, Hunter,” said the companion of the man in the snuff-coloured coat, “get up, and fight for the Pope.”

“I don’t care for the young fellow,” said the man in the snuff-coloured coat.

“I know you don’t,” said the other; “so get up, and serve him out.”

“I could serve out three like him,” said the man in the snuff-coloured coat.

“So much the better for you,” said the other—­“the present work will be all the easier for you; get up, and serve him out at once.”

The man in the snuff-coloured coat did not stir.

“Who shows the white feather now?” said the simple-looking man.

“He! he! he!” tittered the man in black.

“Who told you to interfere?” said the radical, turning ferociously towards the simple-looking man; “say another word, and I’ll—­And you!” said he, addressing himself to the man in black, “a pretty fellow you to turn against me, after I had taken your part.  I tell you what, you may fight for yourself.  I’ll see you and your Pope in the pit of Eldon before I fight for either of you, so make the most of it.”

“Then you won’t fight?” said I.

“Not for the Pope,” said the radical; “I’ll see the Pope—­”

“Dear me!” said I, “not fight for the Pope, whose religion you would turn to, if you were inclined for any?  I see how it is; you are not fond of fighting.  But I’ll give you another chance.  You were abusing the Church of England just now.  I’ll fight for it—­will you fight against it?”