"There, there," cried his companion, quietly waving his hand: "that will do; no more of it. Thunder and lightning will do nothing at your bidding; so the less you have to do with them the better, lest you burn your fingers. Try to be an honest man, leave off lying; don't swagger but when you are drunk; and perchance you may be permitted to hold the horses while other men fight." "Well, there is no use in quarrelling with a maggot," replied his tall comrade; and, taking to his knife again, he commenced a new inroad on the beef, in assailing which, at least, he kept his word with a laudible degree of fidelity. In the mean while, the gentleman in black turned his shoulder to the table, and fell into deep thought. But after a moment or two he opened his lips, with an oracular shake of the head, not exactly addressing his speech to his companion, but more apparently to the hilt of his own sword, the point of which he had brought round between his feet, and the blade of which he twirled round and round with his hands while he was speaking. "Nine out of ten of them," he said, "are either rank fools or cold-hearted knaves, presumptuous blockheads, who think they have a right to command, because they have not wit enough to obey; or cunning scoundrels, who aim alone at their own interests, when they are affecting to serve only their country, and yet are fools enough not to see that the good of the whole is the good of every part." "Who, who, who? Whom do you mean?" answered the other. "English gentlemen," replied the man in black; "English gentlemen, I say." "Complimentary, certainly," remarked his comrade; "and by no means too general or comprehensive. I dare say it's very, true, though. So here's to your health, Master Randal." "Let my health alone," said Randal, "and take care of your own; for if you drink much more of that old ale, your head to-morrow morning will be as heavy as the barrel from which it comes, and I shall have to pump upon you to make you fit for any business whatsoever. Come, finish your supper, and take a walk with me upon the hill. But whom have we here? One of the rebels, I take it. Now, mind your part, but do not lie more than your nature absolutely requires." The last words of this speech were, as may be supposed, spoken in a low voice, an addition having been suddenly made to the party in the room where they were sitting. The personage who entered was the same thin, self-denying-looking gentleman who had passed poor Arrah Neil, as she sat by the fountain in the morning, and had in his own mind, charitably furnished her with a lodging in the stocks. That we may not have to return in order to relate this gentleman's previous history hereafter, we may as well pause here for a moment to say the few words that are needed on the subject, especially as some reference may be made to his former life in another place.