yal character, and
ventured even to hint as much. Upon this tears started into the royal
eye. "His Majesty" took Russell's hand, telling him, with deep
emotion, that he was a true friend, and that he would strive to
profit by his friendship.

"An' oh, ye thafe of the worrulil," continued "His Majesty," suddenly
changing the conversation, "ye've played the mischief wid thim bonds.
Where have ye hid thim, ye rogue? But niver mind. I'll be ayvin wid
ye yit. How much are they? Thirty thousand pounds! Begorra, I'll give
ye that amount for thim. I'd like to take up thim bonds for the
credit av our monarchy an' our kingdom. I'll tell ye what I'll do.
I'll give ye an ordher on our lord high treasurer for the whole
amount in cash! That's what I'll do, so I will. Ye naydn't give
yerself any more throuble. I'll give ye the hard cash through the
lord high treasurer--that's me way. I'll do it!"

"His Majesty" here mixed another glass of toddy. After a few draughts
he assumed a more dignified attitude.

"Me lord," said he, "I should like to ask ye now, quite infarrumally,
what there is to prayvint a raycognition by your governmint av our
claims an' our rights. We are winnin' our way back to the throne an'
crown av our ancistors. A lawless mob howlds our capital, but they'll
be kicked out afore a month av Sundays. I should like to make a
frindly agraymint through you, me lord, wid your government. Whin I
git to be king, I agray to cling to an alliance offinsive an'
dayfinsive wid your governmint. There's one common inimy, the
raypublic av America, an' it's ayqually hostile to both av us. We, as
sole repraysintative av Conservatism an' the owld proimayval order,
will ally ourselves wid you agin the common inimy for paice an' for
war. What do ye say to that? Begorra, it's a fine offer intoircly!
Ye'll not find another livin' potentate that 'll make it. Bismarck
won't. M'Mahon--Irishman though he is--won't. The Czar won't. Franz
Joseph won't. So there's only us. If ye don't accept our proposals
we'll go over to the inimy. We'll buy President Grant. We'll make a
dayscint on Ireland. I know a man that 'ud be proud to take command
av the invadin' armies. His name's O'Toole, that's now in the Carlist
camp, an' a divil av a feller he is. He'd sweep Ireland from one ind
av it to the other. Give me O'Toole, says I, an' I'll bate the
worruld in arrums, says I. Begorra, I would. An' now fill yer glass,
me boy."

"His Majesty" mixed another