ge. James, get in Mr. ----, I beg your pardon, but 'pon my
soul, I forgot your name, though Moriarty told me."

"Mr. Furlong," gently uttered the youth.

"Get in the luggage, James. Come, sir, walk into the dinner-room: we
haven't finished our wine yet." With these words Dick ushered in
Furlong to the apartment where Squire Egan sat, who rose as they
entered. "Mr. Furlong, Ned," said Dick.

"Happy to see you, Mr. Furlong," said the hearty Squire, who shook
Furlong's hand in what Furlong considered a most savage manner. "You
seem fatigued?"

"Vewy," was the languid reply of the traveller, as he threw himself
into a chair.

"Ring the bell for more claret, Dick," said Squire Egan.

"I neveh dwink."

Dick and the Squire both looked at him with amazement, for in the
friend of Moriarty they expected to find a hearty fellow.

"A cool bottle wouldn't do a child any harm," said the Squire. "Ring,
Dick. And now, Mr. Furlong, tell us how you like the country."

"Not much, I pwotest."

"What do you think of the people?"

"Oh, I don't know:--you'll pawdon me, but--a--in short there are so
many wags."

"Oh, there are wags enough, I grant; not funnier d----ls in the world."

"But I mean _wags_--tatters, I mean."

"Oh, rags. Oh, yes--why, indeed, they've not much clothes to spare."

"And yet these wetches are fweeholders, I'm told."

"Ay, and stout voters too."

"Well, that's all we wequire. By-the-bye, how goes on the canvass,
Squire?"

"Famously."

"Oh, wait till I explain to you our plan of opewations from head-qwaters.
You'll see how famously we shall wally at the hustings. These _Iwish_
have no idea of tactics: we'll intwoduce the English mode--take them by
supwise. We _must_ unseat him."

"Unseat who?" said the Squire.

"That--a--Egan, I think you call him."

The Squire opened his eyes; but Dick, with the ready devilment that was
always about him, saw how the land lay in an instant, and making a
signal to his brother-in-law, chimed in with an immediate assent to
Furlong's assertion, and swore that Egan would be unseated to a
certainty. "Come, sir," added Dick, "fill one bumper at least to a
toast I propose. Here's 'Confusion to Egan, and success to O'Grady.'"

"Success to O'Gwady," faintly echoed Furlong, as he sipped his claret.
"These _Iwish_ are so wild--so uncultivated," continued he; "you'll see
how I'll supwise them with some of my plans."

"Oh, they're poor ignorant brutes," said Dick, "that