“‘Did you read that slashing leader on Bright’s speech?’
“‘No; when did it appear?’
“‘Last Thursday.’
“‘Oh! my dear friend, I shall come to it by and by; but at present I am a year in arrear.’”
“Am I to understand that he intended to read up to that speech?”
“Certainly. This will illustrate the man. At his house in Leeson Street, Dublin, the hall-door was divided into two, and a knocker attached to each door. The chief-baron has been known to stand for hours, pausing to consider which knocker he would rap with, fearing to act unjustly by the unutilized one.”
“I can scarcely credit this,” exclaimed the member.
“Oh! you’ll hear of stranger things than that before you leave Ireland.” And the merry twinkle in the priest’s eye dissipated any doubts still lingering in the ponderous mind of the learned member for Doodleshire.
“That story is worthy of our—ahem!—charioteer.”
“Who? Peter O’Brien? What good company the rascal is! Of him one can safely say with Publius, Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est. Peter would lighten any journey. What was the subject of the debate to-day?”