“'Without boasting, I trust I may say so. These little sacrifices of mine are not without their own appropriate compensations. Indeed, it is seldom that such stretches of duty on the right side, and for the improvement of others, are made altogether in vain. For instance, after the humility—if I can call it so—of the third cup, I am rewarded with an easy uprising of the spiritual man—a greater sense of inward freedom—an elevation of the soul—a benign beatitude of spirit, that diffuses a calm, serene happiness through my whole being.'
“'That, sir, must be delightful.'
“'It is delightful, but it is what these men—carnal I do not wish to call them lest I fall—it is, however, what these men—or, indeed, any merely carnal man, cannot feel. This, however, I feel to be a communication made to me, that in this thing I should not for the time stop; and I feel that I am not free to pass the fourth or fifth cup, knowing as how greater freedom and additional privileges will be granted.'
“'Are the stages marked, sir, between the fourth and fifth tumblers?'
“'Cups, my friend—there is a beauty, sir, in the economy of this that is not to be concealed. For instance, the line between the third and fourth cups is much better marked, and no doubt for wiser purposes, than is that between the fourth and fifth. At the fourth my spirit is filled with strong devotional tendencies—and it is given to me to address the Lodge with something like unctional effect; but at the fifth this ecstatic spirit rises still higher, and assumes the form of praise, and psalms, spiritual songs, and political anthems. In this whole assembly, I am sorry to say, that there is but one other humble individual who, if I may so speak, is similarly gifted, and goes along with me, pari passu, as they say, step by step, and cup by cup, until we reach the highest order, which is praise. But, indeed, to persons so gifted in their liquor, drinking is decidedly a religious exercise. That person is the little fellow to the right of the red-faced man up yonder, the little fellow I mean, who is pale in the face and wants an eye. His name is Bob Spaight; he is grand cobbler, by appointment, to the Lodge, and attends all the Popish executions in the province, from principle; for he is, between you and me, a Christian man of high privileges. As for our little touches of melodia sacra during the fifth cup, the only drawback is, that no matter what the measure of the psalm be, whether long or short, Bob is sure to sing it either to the tune of Croppies lie Down, or the Boyne Water, they being the only two he can manage; a circumstance which forces us, however otherwise united, to part company in the melody, unless when moved by compassion for poor Bob, I occasionally join him in Croppies lie Down or the other tune, for the purpose of sustaining him as a Christian and Orangeman.'
“At this time it was with something like effort that he or I could hear each other as we spoke, and, by the way, it was quite evident that little Solomon was very nearly in all his glory, from the very slight liquefaction of language which, might be observed in his conversation.
“It occurred to me now, that as Solomon's heart was a little bit open, and as the tide of conversation flowed both loud and tumultuous, it was a very good opportunity of getting out of him a tolerably fair account of the persons by whom we were surrounded. I accordingly asked him the name and occupation of several whom I had observed as the most striking individuals present.
“'That large man with the red face,' said I, 'beside your pious and musical friend Spaight—who is he?'
“'He is an Orange butcher, sir, who would think very little of giving a knock on the head to any Protestant who won't deal with him. His landlord's tenants are about half Catholics and half Protestants, and as he makes it a point to leave them his custom in about equal degrees, this fellow—who, between you and me—is right in the principle, if he would only carry it out a little more quietly—makes it a standing grievance every lodge night. And, by and by, you will hear them abuse each other like pickpockets for the same reason. There is a grim-looking fellow, with the great fists, a blacksmith, who is at deadly enmity with that light firm-looking man—touching the shoeing of M'Clutchy's cavalry. Val, who knows a thing or two, if I may so speak, keeps them one off and the other on so admirably, that he contrives to get his own horses shod and all his other iron work done, free, gratis, for nothing between them. This is the truth, brother Weasel: in fact my dear brother Weasel, it is the truth. There are few here who are not moved by some personal hope or expectation from something or from somebody. Down there near the door are a set of fellows—whisper in your ear—about as great scoundrels as you could meet with; insolent, fierce, furious men, with bad passions and no principles, whose chief delight is to get drunk—to kick up party feuds in fairs and markets, and who have, in fact, a natural love for strife. But all are not so. There are many respectable men here who, though a little touched, as is only natural after all, by a little cacoethes of self-interest, yet, never suffer it to interfere with the steadiness and propriety of their conduct, or the love of peace and good will. It is these men, who, in truth, sustain the character of the Orange-Institution. These are the men of independence and education who repress—as far as they can—the turbulence and outrage of the others. But harken! now they begin.'
“At this moment the din in the room was excessive. Phil had now begun to feel the influence of liquor, as was evident from the frequent thumpings which the table received at his hand—the awful knitting of his eyebrows, as he commanded silence—and the multiplicity of 'd—n my honors,' which interlarded his conversation.