is what you become when stripped of the accidents
of wealth and fortune,--these are your real claims." There was no
deference to him there. He had asked for the newspaper, and been curtly
informed "that 'Falkner' was engaged by the gentleman in the next box;"
so was he left to his own lucubrations, broken in upon only by the
drowsy, monotonous tone of his neighbor in the adjoining stall, who was
reading out the paper to a friend. Either the reader had warmed into a
more distinct elocution, or my father's ears had become more susceptible
by habit, but at length he found himself enabled to overhear the
contents of the journal, which seemed to be a rather flippant criticism
on a late debate in the Irish House of Commons.

A motion had been made by the Member for Cavan for leave to bring in
a bill to build ships of war for Ireland,--a proposition so palpably
declaring a separate and independent nationality that it not only
incurred the direct opposition of Government, but actually met with the
disapprobation of the chief men of the Liberal party, who saw all the
injury that must accrue to just and reasonable demands, by a course of
policy thus exaggerated. "Falkner" went even further; for he alleged
that the motion was a trick of the Castle party, who were delighted to
see the patriots hastening their own destruction, by a line of action
little short of treason. The arguments of the journalist in support of
this view were numerous and acute. He alleged the utter impossibility
of the measure ever being accepted by the House, or sanctioned by the
Crown. He showed its insufficiency for the objects proposed, were
it even to become law; and, lastly, he proceeded to display all the
advantages the Government might derive from every passing source of
disunion amongst the Irish party,--schisms which, however insignificant
at first, were daily widening into fatal breaches of all confidence. His
last argument was based on the fact that had the Ministry anticipated
any serious trouble by the discussion, they would never have displayed
such utter indifference about mustering their forces. "We saw not,"
said the writer, "the accustomed names of Townley, Tisdale, Loftus,
Skeffington, and fifty more such, on the division. Old Roach did
n't whistle up one of his pack, but hunted down the game with the fat
poodles that waddle after the Viceroy through the Castle-yard."

"M'Cleary had a caricature of the Portland hunt this morning in his
wi