“I am, sir; I'm a phenumenon in a small way. And many people thinks, when they see and convarse with me, what a pity it is I hav' n't the advantages of edication and instruction; and that's just where they 're wrong,—complately wrong.”
“Well, I confess I don't perceive that.”
“I'll show you, then. There's a kind of janius natural to men like myself,—in Ireland I mean, for I never heerd of it elsewhere,—that's just like our Irish emerald or Irish diamond,—wonderful if one considers where you find it, astonishin' if you only think how azy it is to get, but a regular disappointment, a downright take-in, if you intend to have it cut and polished and set. No, sir; with all the care and culture in life, you 'll never make a precious stone of it!”
“You've not taken the right way to convince me, by using such an illustration, Billy.”
“I 'll try another, then,” said Billy. “We are like Willy-the-Whisps, showing plenty of light where there's no road to travel, but of no manner of use on the highway, or in the dark streets of a village where one has business.”
“Your own services here are the refutation to your argument, Billy,” said Harcourt, filling his glass.
“'Tis your kindness to say so, sir,” said Billy, with gratified pride; “but the sacrat was, he thrusted me,—that was the whole of it. All the miracles of physic is confidence, just as all the magic of eloquence is conviction.”
“You have reflected profoundly, I see,” said Harcourt.
“I made a great many observations at one time of my life,—the opportunity was favorable.”
“When and how was that?”