"All right, there is plenty of time," answered X, writing out a dispatch on a broad white sheet of cable office paper. "See here--is this all right?" he asked, when he had done. The message ran as follows: "Do not withdraw. If possible gain Ballymolloy and men, but on no account pay for them. If asked, say iron protection necessary at present, and probably for many years." Y and Z read the telegram, and said it would do. In ten minutes it was taken to the telegraph office by X's servant. "And now," said X, lighting a fresh cigar, "we have disposed of this accident, and we can turn to our regular business. The question is broadly, what effect will be produced by suddenly throwing eight or ten millions of English money into an American enterprise?" "When Englishmen are not making money, they are a particularly disagreeable set of people to deal with," remarked Y, who would have been taken for an Englishman himself in any part of the world. And so the council left John Harrington, and turned to other matters which do not in any way concern this tale. John received the dispatch at half-past ten o'clock in the morning after the dinner at Mrs. Wyndham's, and he read it without comprehending precisely the position taken by his instructor. Nevertheless, the order coincided with what he would have done if left to himself. He of course could not know that even if his opponent were elected it would be a gain to his own party, for the outward life of Mr. Jobbins gave no cause for believing that he was in anybody's power. Harrington was left to suppose that, if he failed to get the votes of Patrick Ballymolloy and his party, the election would be a dead loss. Nevertheless, he rejoiced that the said Patrick was not to be bought. An honorable failure, wherein he might honestly say that he had bribed no one, nor used any undue pressure, would in his opinion be better than to be elected ten times over by money and promises of political jobbery. The end rarely justifies the means, and there are means so foul that they would blot any result into their own filthiness. All that the world can write; or think, or say, will never make it honorable or noble to bribe and tell lies. Men who lie are not brave because they are willing to be shot at, in some instances, by the men their falsehoods have injured. Men who pay others to agree with them are doing a wrong upon the dignity of human nature, and they very generally end by saying that human nature has no dignity at all, and very possibly by being themselves corrupted. Nevertheless, so great is the interest which men, even upright and honorable men, take in the aims they follow, that they believe it possible to wade knee-deep through mud, and then ascend to the temple of fame without dragging the mud with them, and befouling the white marble steps.