ournful expression of the Senator, whose
gaiety lapsed at intervals when bitterness got the better of him.

"The boys--the whole town is raving about you, Artie," said he with
pride, "over the way you managed that affair of Ledwith's. There'll be
nothing too good for you this year, if you work all the points of the
game--if you follow good advice, I mean. You've got Livingstone in a
corner. When this cruel war is over, and it is over for the
Fenians--they've had enough, God knows--it ought to be commencing for
the Honorable Quincy Livingstone."

"You make too much of it, Senator," Grahame responded. "We know what's
back of these attacks on you and others. It's this way, Arthur: the
Senator and I have been working hard for the American citizens in
English jails, Fenians of course, and the Livingstone crowd have hit
back at us hard. The Senator, as the biggest man in sight, got hit
hardest."

"What they say of me is true, though. That's what hurts."

"Except that they leave out the man whom every one admires for his good
sense, generous heart, and great success," Arthur said to console him.

"Of course one doesn't like to have the sins of his youth advertised for
two civilizations," Grahame continued. "One must consider the source of
this abuse however. They are clever men who write against us, but to
know them is not to admire them. Bitterkin of the _Post_ has his brain,
stomach, and heart stowed away in a single sack under his liver, which
is very torpid, and his stomach is always sour. His blood is three parts
water from the Boyne, his food is English, his clothes are a very bad
fit, and his whiskers are so hard they dull the scissors. He loves
America when he can forget that Irish and other foreign vermin inhabit
it, otherwise he detests it. He loves England until he remembers that he
can't live in it. The other fellow, Smallish, writes beautiful English,
and lives on the old clothes of the nobility. Now who would mourn over
the diatribes of such cats?"

The Senator had to laugh at the description despite his sadness.

"This is only one symptom of the trouble that's brewing. There's no use
in hiding the fact that things are looking bad. Since the Fenian scheme
went to pieces, the rats have left their holes. The Irish are
demoralized everywhere, fighting themselves as usual after a collapse,
and their enemies are quoting them against one another. Here in New York
the hired bravos of the press are in the pay of t