a novel sight in that direction."

"And in the other direction," observed Hartley, "no bridges will be
wanted."

"Why so?" said M'Small.

"Because," he replied, "there will be such an absence of water as will
render them unnecessary."

"Ay," retorted another, "but as there will be plenty of grand jurors
we may do then as we did now, build the bridge without the water, and
trouble ourselves no further with the consequences."

After much more conversation, partly on business, and partly on
desultory topics, the quarrellings, and bickerings, and all the noisy
enmities of that corrupt little world that is contained within--we
should rather say, that was contained within the walls of a grand jury
room, ceased; and, with the exception of one or two small matters of
no consequence, everything was settled, but not so as to give general
satisfaction; for there still remained a considerable number of
grumblers, whose objects had been either completely lost in greater
corruption, or set aside for the present.

"Here's another matter," said Spavin, "which we had better settle at
once. A man here named O'Drive--Darby O'Drive--is to be appointed to the
under gaolership--he is strongly recommended by Mr. Lucre, as a man that
has renounced Popery."

"That's enough, Spavin," said Hartley, "that, I suppose, comprises all
the virtues necessary for an under gaoler, at all events."

"You know him, M'Clutchy," said one or two of them.

"He'll make a good under gaoler," replied Val, "as there will be in
Europe. Appoint him, gentlemen; you will get no such man."

"And that is just," said Sir William aside to Hartley, "all that Val's
recommendation is good for."

And thus closed as much as we feel necessary to describe of that
extraordinary scene--a grand jury room in the year 1804, or
thereabouts.

CHAPTER XXIII.--A Rent Day

--Relative Position of Landlord and Tenant--Grades of Tenantry--Phil's
Notion of Respect--Paddy Corrigan's Protestant Wig--Phil and Solomon in
a Fit of Admiration--The Widow Tyrrell.

One single week in the progress of time, after the exhibition last
described, had wonderfully advanced the catastrophe of our simple and
uncomplicated narrative. Harman, very much to the mortification of
M'Clutchy, was acquitted, the evidence being not only in his favor, but
actually of such a character, as to prove clearly that his trial was
merely one of those dishonest stretches of political vengeance which
cha