“‘Eh!’ said Denis, ‘I don’t comprehend you exactly.’

“‘I mean,’ said Mr. Peel, ‘in one word, what’s his forte?’

“‘His forte!’

“‘I mean what his peculiar gift consists in—­’

“‘Oh, I perceave—­I have ye now—­the juries!’

“‘Ah! addressing a jury.’

“‘Ay, the juries.’

“’Can you oblige me by giving me any idea of the manner in which he obtains such signal success in this difficult branch of eloquence.’

“‘I’ll tell ye,’ said Denis, leisurely finishing his glass, and smacking his lips, with the air of a man girding up his loins for a mighty effort, ’I’ll tell ye—­well, ye see the way he has is this,’—­here Mr. Peel’s expectation rose to the highest degree of interest,—­’the way he has is this—­he first butthers them up, and then slithers them down! that’s all, devil a more of a secret there’s in it.’”

How much reason Denis had to boast of imparting early information to the new secretary I leave my English readers to guess; my Irish ones I may trust to do him ample justice.

My friend now left me to my own devices to while away the hours till time to dress for dinner.  Heaven help the gentleman so left in Dublin, say I. It is, perhaps, the only city of its size in the world, where there is no lounge—­no promenade.  Very little experience of it will convince you that it abounds in pretty women, and has its fair share of agreeable men; but where are they in the morning?  I wish Sir Dick Lauder, instead of speculating where salmon spent the Christmas holidays, would apply his most inquiring mind to such a question as this.  True it is, however, they are not to be found.  The squares are deserted—­the streets are very nearly so—­and all that is left to the luckless wanderer in search of the beautiful, is to ogle the beauties of Dame-street, who are shopkeepers in Grafton-street, or the beauties of Grafton-street, who are shopkeepers in Dame-street.  But, confound it, how cranky I am getting—­I must be tremendously hungry.  True, it’s past six.  So now for my suit of sable, and then to dinner.

CHAPTER XIII

DUBLIN—­THE BOARDING-HOUSE—­SELECT SOCIETY.

Punctual to my appointment with O’Flaherty, I found myself a very few minutes after six o’clock at Mrs. Clanfrizzle’s door.  My very authoritative summons at the bell was answered by the appearance of a young, pale-faced invalid, in a suit of livery the taste of which bore a very unpleasant resemblance to the one I so lately figured in.  It was with considerable difficulty I persuaded this functionary to permit my carrying my hat with me to the drawing-room, a species of caution on my part—­as he esteemed it—­savouring much of distrust.  This point however, I carried, and followed him up a very ill-lighted stair to the drawing-room; here I was announced by some faint resemblance to my real name,