“Oh! there you are 'pounded '! Poisons what?” “Poisons the pellucid rills which should fertilize the soul of man! I'm never pounded. O'Connell himself had to confess that he never saw my equal in graceful imagery and figurative embellishment. 'Listening to O'Shea,' says he, 'is like watching a juggler with eight balls flying round and about him. You may think it impossible he 'll be in time, but never one of them will he fail to catch.' That's what _I_ call oratory. Why is it, I ask, that, when I rise in the house, you 'd hear a pin drop?” “Maybe they steal out on their tiptoes,” said Joe, innocently. “No, sir, they stand hushed, eager, anxious, as were the Greeks of old to catch the words of Ulysses. I only wish you saw old P------ working away with his pencil while I 'm speaking.” “Making a picture of you, maybe!” “You are as insolent as you are ignorant,--one of those who, in the unregenerate brutality of their coarse nature, repel the attempts of all who would advocate the popular cause. I have said so over and over again. If you would constitute yourself the friend of the people, take care to know nothing of them; neither associate with them, nor mix in their society: as Tommy Moore said of Ireland, 'It's a beautiful country to live out of.'” “And _he_ was a patriot!” said Joe, contemptuously. “There are no patriots among those who soar above the miserable limits of a nationality. Genius has no concern with geographies. To think for the million you must forget the man.” “Say that again. I like the sound of that,” cried Joe, admiringly. “If anything could illustrate the hopelessness of your class and condition in life,” continued O'Shea, “it is yourself. There you are, daily, hourly associating with one whose sentiments you hear, whose opinions you learn, whose judgments you record; one eagerly sought after in society, revered in private, honored in the Senate; and what have you derived from these unparalleled advantages? What can you say has been the benefit from these relations?” “It's hard to say,” muttered Joe, “except, maybe, it's made me a philosopher.” “A philosopher!--you a philosopher!” “Ay; isn't it philosophy to live without wages, and work without pay? 'Tis from yourself I heerd that the finest thing of all is to despise money.” “So it is,--so it would be, I mean, if society had not built up that flimsy card edifice it calls civilization. Put out my blue pelisse with the Astrachan collar, and my braided vest; I shall want to go over to the Villa this morning. But, first of all, take this to the telegraph- office: 'The O'Shea accepts.'” “Tear and ages! what is it we've got?” asked Joe, eagerly. “'The O'Shea accepts,'--four words if they charge for the 'O.' Let me know the cost at once.” “But why don't you tell me where we're going? Is it Jamaica or Jerusalem?” “Call your philosophy to your aid, and be anxious for nothing,” said O'Shea, pompously. “Away, lose no more time.”