"Now, first of all, Dick," said the Squire, "is it fair, do you think?"
"Fair!" said Dick, opening his eyes in astonishment. "Why who ever heard of any one questioning anything being fair in love, or war, or electioneering? To be sure, it's fair—and more particularly when the conceited coxcomb has been telling us how he'll astonish with his plans the poor ignorant Irish, whom he holds in such contempt. Now, let me alone, and I'll get all his plans out of him, turn him inside out like a glove, pump him as dry as a pond in the summer, squeeze him like a lemon—and let him see whether the poor ignorant Iwish, as he softly calls us, are not an overmatch for him at the finesse upon which he seems so much to pride himself."
"Egad! I believe you're right, Dick," said the Squire, whose qualms were quite overcome by the argument last advanced; for if one thing more than another provoked him, it was the impertinent self-conceit of presuming and shallow strangers, who fancied their hackneyed and cut-and-dry knowledge of the common-places of the world gave them a mental elevation above an intelligent people of primitive habits, whose simplicity of life is so often set down to stupidity, whose contentment under privation is frequently attributed to laziness, and whose poverty is constantly coupled with the epithet "ignorant." "A poor ignorant creature," indeed, is a common term of reproach, as if poverty and ignorance must be inseparable. If a list could be obtained of the rich ignorant people, it would be no flattering document to stick on the door of the temple of Mammon.
"Well, Ned," said Dick, "as you agree to do the Englishman, Murphy will be a grand help to us; it is the very thing he will have his heart in. Murtough will be worth his weight in gold to us; I will ride over to him and bring him back with me to spend the day here; and you, in the mean time, can put every one about the house on their guard not to spoil the fun by letting the cat out of the bag too soon; we'll shake her ourselves in good time, and maybe we won't have fun in the hunt!"
"You're right, Dick. Murphy is the very man for our money. Do you be off for him, and I will take care that all shall be right at home here."
In ten minutes more Dick was in his saddle, and riding hard for Murtough Murphy's. A good horse and a sharp pair of spurs were not long in placing him vis-à-vis with the merry attorney, whom he found in his stable-yard up to his eyes in business with some ragged country fellows, the majority of whom were loud in vociferating their praises of certain dogs; while Murtough drew from one of them, from time to time, a solemn assurance, given with many significant shakes of the head, and uplifting of hands and eyes, "that was the finest badger in the world!" Murtough turned his head on hearing the rattle of the horse's feet, as Dick the Devil dashed into the stable-yard, and with a view-halloo welcomed him.
"You're just in time, Dick. By the powers! we'll have the finest day's sport you've seen for some time."
"I think we shall," said Dick, "if you come with me."
"No; but you come with me," said Murtough. "The grandest badger-fight, sir."
"Pooh!" returned Dick; "I've better fun for you." He then told them of the accident that conveyed their political enemy into their toils; "and the beauty of it is," said Dick, "that he has not the remotest suspicion of the condition he's in, and fancies himself able to buy and sell all Ireland—horse-dealers and attorneys included."