ion, or the discordant yells of
disappointed and disorderly followers--mere condottieri--of the
contemptible tyrant who now scowls at me from the cross-benches."

Loud cheers of applause followed this burst of indignation.

An animated conversation now ensued as to whether this was strictly
parliamentary; some averring that they "had heard worse," others deeming
it a shade too violent, O'Shea insisting throughout that there never was
a sharp debate in the House without far blacker insinuations, while in
the Irish Parliament such courtesies were continually interchanged, and
very much admired.

"Was n't it Lawrence Parsons who spoke of the 'highly gifted blackguard
on the other side?'" and "Didn't John Toler allude to the 'ignorant and
destitute spendthrift who now sat for the beggarly borough of Athlone?'"
cried two or three advocates of vigorous language.

"There's worse in Homer," said another, settling the question on
classical authority.

The discussion grew warm. What was, and what was not, admissible in
language was eagerly debated; the interchange of opinion, in a great
measure, serving to show that there were few, if any, freedoms of speech
that might not be indulged in. Indeed, Heathcote's astonishment was only
at the amount of endurance exhibited by each in turn, so candid were
the expressions employed, so free from all disguise the depreciatory
sentiments entertained.

In the midst of what had now become a complete uproar, and while one
of the orators, who by dint of lungs had overcome all competitors, was
inveighing against O'Shea as "a traitor to his party, and the scorn of
every true Irishman," a fresh arrival, heated and almost breathless,
rushed into the room.

"It's all over," cried he; "the Government is beaten. The House is to be
dissolved on Wednesday, and the country to go to a general election."

Had a shell fallen on the table, the dispersion could not have been
more instantaneous. Barristers, reporters, borough agents, and
penny-a-liners, all saw their harvest-time before them, and hurried
away to make their engagements; and, in less than a quarter of an hour,
O'Shea was left alone with his companion, Charles Heathcote.

"Here's a shindy!" cried the ex-M. P., "and the devil a chance I have of
getting in again, if I can't raise five hundred pounds."

Heathcote never spoke, but sat ruminating over the news.

"Bad luck to the Cabinet!" muttered O'Shea. "Why would they put that
stupid cl