Murphy was a true prophet, for Egan presented himself with confidence, brightness, and good-humour on his open countenance. "The first thing I have to ask of you, boys," said Egan, addressing the assembled throng, "is a fair hearing for the other candidate." "Hear, hear," followed from the gentlemen in the gallery. "And, as he's a stranger amongst us, let him have the privilege of first addressing you." With these words he bowed courteously to Scatterbrain, who thanked him very much like a gentleman, and accepting his offer, advanced to address the electors. O'Grady waved his hand in signal to his body-guard, and Scatterbrain had three cheers from the ragamuffins. He was no great things of a speaker, but he was a good-humoured fellow, and this won on the Paddies; and although coming before them under the disadvantage of being proposed by O'Grady, they heard him with good temper:--to this, however, Egan's good word considerably contributed. He went very much over the ground his proposer had taken, so that, bating the bad temper, the pith of his speech was much the same, quite as much deprecating the political views of his opponent, and harping on O'Grady's worn-out catch-word of "Having chalked out a line for himself," &c. &c. &c. Egan now stood forward, and was greeted with fresh cheers. He began in a very Irish fashion; for, being an unaffected, frank, and free-hearted fellow himself, he knew how to touch the feelings of those who possess such qualities. He waited till the last echo of the uproarious greeting died away, and the first simple words he uttered were-- "Here I am, boys!" Simple as these words were, they produced "one cheer more." "Here I am, boys--_the same I ever was_." Loud huzzas and "Long life to you!" answered the last pithy words, which were sore ones to O'Grady, who, as a renegade, felt the hit. "Fellow-countrymen, I come forward to represent you, and, however I may be unequal to _that_ task, at least I will never _mis_represent you." Another cheer followed. "My past life is evidence enough on _that_ point; God forbid I were of the mongrel breed of Irishmen who speak ill of their own country. I never did it, boys, and I never will! Some think they get on by it, and so they do, indeed;--they get on as sweeps and shoe-blacks get on--they drive a dirty trade and find employment;--but are they respected?" Shouts of "No!--no!"