“Nobody suspects you for that,” said the other. “Out of the long catalogue of human virtues, courage is the only one loft you, or indeed, you ever had—unless, indeed, it be the shameless and diabolical honesty of glorying in your own vices.”
“Why, Hartley!” replied Deaker, “you forget, that you had more vices, and, hammers, too, in your family, and more brass, than ever I or mine could' boast of. If the memory of that successful old tinker, your grandfather, had not passed out of your mind, you would make no allusion to vices or screws, and take care, my good hot-brained young fellow, that you don't die in your family trade, and come to the pully yet.”
Hartley, who was hasty, but exceedingly good-natured, although certainly a noted duelist, now burst out into a hearty laugh, as did most of the rest.
“Deaker,” said he, “there is no use in being angry with you, nor in being ashamed that my fortune was created by industry and honesty, for both of which virtues I have reason heartily to thank my good old grandfather, the hardware man, as you have for thanking the sire of your father, the worthy tailor, who had the honor of being appointed one of Peg Nicholson's knights, ha, ha, ha!”
The laughter now became general and excessive; but not one of them enjoyed, or seemed at least, to enjoy it with more good-humor than Val; who, indeed, was never known to exhibit any want of temper to his equals during his life.
“Well,” said he, “ha, ha, ha! now that that breeze has blown over—about the poteen, Hartley?”
“Thanks, Val; but no poteen, if you please.”
“Then, gentlemen,” said Val, “to resume business; I was alluding to the seizure of a Still about a month ago near Drum Dhu, where the parties just had time to secure the Still itself, but were forced to leave the head and worm behind them; now, that I give as a fair illustration of our getting the papers, and missing the arms. Besides,” said he, in a wheedling and confidential tone, addressed to a clique of his friends, the jobbers, whom he joined at the lower end of the room, “you are all aware that my fellows are staunch Orangemen, every one of them, and the government itself feels, for I have reason to know it, that it is neither politic or prudent to check the spirit which is now abroad among them; so far from that, I can tell you it is expected that we should stimulate and increase it, until the times change. The bills against these men must, therefore, be thrown out.”
“I'll agree to that,” said a leading man of his own party, “only on one condition. There are three of my own tenants, Papists to be sure, in for distilling poteen. Now, we must have them out, Val, for one good turn deserves another.
“But why?” inquired Val and his friends.