“Oh, Sir William, you and Hartley would run well in a chaise together—both always for the rebels.”
“Whom do you call the rebels?”
“Why the Papists, to be sure.”
“No more rebels, Moore, than you are,” replied Hartley—“I find a Papist as good as another man, if he's as well and as fairly treated.”
“Irwin,” said a large gouty man, whose legs were wrapped in flannel, “of course you've heard of Sir William's method of dispensing justice. Will that too, sir, find its own remedy—eh? ha, ha, ha; d———e, it's the most novel thing going.”
“No—how is it, Anderson?”
“Why, if two neighbors chance to fall out, or have a quarrel, and if it happens also that they come to take the law of one another, as they call it, what does the worthy baronet do, do you imagine? 'Well, my good fellow,' proceeds our justice, 'you want to take the law of this man?'
“'Yes, your honor.'
“'And you want to take the law of him,' addressing the other.
“'I do, the rascal.'