g Marsh
again, "but begod I'll clear that out!"

"Slummage?" Marsh asked questioningly.

"Aye. Do you not know what slummage is?"

He described it as a heap of steamy, flabby grain that is rejected by
distillers after the spirit has been extracted from it. "An' it's only
fit to feed pigs with," he said, ending his description. "An' the kind
of stuff you're lettin' out of you now is only fit for pub-patriots.
How soon can you come to Ballymartin. The sooner the better!"

He tried to drop the discussion of politics, but was so fond of it
himself that before he had settled the date of Marsh's appearance at
Ballymartin, he was in the middle of another discussion. His head was
full of theories about Ireland and about the world, and he loved to let
his theories out of his head for an airing. He very earnestly desired to
keep Ireland different from England. "Ireland's the 'country' of this
kingdom, an' England's the 'town,'" he sometimes said, or when his mood
was bitter, he would say that he wished to preserve Ireland as a place
in which gentlemen could live in comfort, leaving England to be the
natural home of manufacturers and mill-owners.

"But it's no good talkin' of separatin' the two countries," he said to
Marsh, "an' it's no good talkin' of drivin' the English out of Ireland
because you can't tell these times who is English an' who is Irish.
We've mingled our blood too closely for any one to be able to tell who's
what. If you started clearin' out the English, you'd mebbe clear me out,
for my family was planted here by William of Orange ... an' the
damnedest set of scoundrels they were, too, by all accounts!... an'
mebbe, Marsh, you yourself 'ud be cleared out!... Aye, an' you, too,
Ernest Harper, for all you're waggin' your oul' red beard at me. You're
Scotch, man, Scotch, to the backbone!..."

Harper rose at him, wagging his red beard, and filling the air with
terrible prophecies!...

"Ah, quit, man!" said Mr. Quinn, and he turned and winked at Marsh. "Do
you know what religion he is?" he said, pointing his finger at Harper.
"He's a Nonconformin' Theosophist!" And he roared at his own joke.

"You can no more separate the destinies of England an' Ireland in the
world," he went on, "nor you can separate the waters of the Liffey an'
the Mersey in the Irish Sea. Bedam, if you can!"

Mr. Quinn liked to throw out these aphorisms, and he spent a great deal
of time in inventing them. Once he flung a company of Dubli