“Where's O'Dowd?' shouted out the crowd. And they awoke out of a pleasant sleep a little old fellow that never missed his day for two years at the club. “'Gentlemen,' said I, in a voice trembling with feeling, 'the hour is come when my destiny is to separate me from you forever; an hour that is equally full of the past and the future, and has even no small share of present emotions. If ever there were a human institution devised to cement together the hearts and affections of men, to bind them into one indissoluble mass, and blend their instincts into identity, it is the club we have here. Here we stand, like the departed spirits at the Styx, waiting for the bark of Charon to ferry us over. To what, however? Is it to some blessed elysium of a Poor Law Commissioner's place, or is it to some unknown fate in a distant land, with five hundred a year and an allowance for monkeys? That's the question, there's the rub! as Hamlet says.' After dilating at large on this, I turned to O'Dowd. 'To your hands,' said I, 'I commit this venerable relic: keep it, guard it, honor it, and preserve it. Remember,' said I, 'that when you stir those coals it is the symbol of keeping alive in the heart the sparks of an undying hope; that though they may wet the slack and water the cinders of our nature, the fire within us will still survive, red, glowing, and generous. Is n't that as fine, as great, glorious, and free, I ask you?' “'Who is that fellow that's talking there, with a voice like Lablache?' asked a big man at the door; and then, as the answer was whispered in his ear, he said, 'Send him out here to me.' “Out I went, and found myself face to face with O'Connell. “'I want a man to stand for Drogheda to-morrow; the gentleman I expected cannot arrive there possibly before three. Will you address the electors, and speak till he comes? If he isn't there by half-past three, you shall be returned!' “'Done!' said I. And by five o'clock on the following evening Gorman O'Shea was at the top of the poll and declared Member for Drogheda! That was, I may say, the first lift I ever got from Fortune. May I never!” exclaimed O'Shea, half angrily,--“may I never, if he's not asleep--and snoring! These Saxons beat the world for stupidity.” The Member now suddenly bethought him that it would be a favorable moment to read his telegram, and so he tore open the envelope, and held it to the light. It was headed as usual, and addressed in full, showing that no parsimony defrauded him of his full title. The body of the despatch was, however, brief enough, and contained only one word, “Bosh!” It was clear, bold, and unmistakably “Bosh!” Could insolence go further than that? To send such a message a thousand miles, at the cost of one pound fourteen and sixpence! “What the deuce? you've nearly upset the table!” cried Heathcote, waking suddenly up, as O'Shea with a passionate gesture had thrown one of the decanters into the other's lap.