It was the evening of that day whereon Big Kennedy gave me those orders touching the Tin Whistles when the reputable old gentleman paid a visit to Old Mike, that Nestor being as usual on his porch and comforting himself with a pipe. I chanced to be present at the conversation, although I had no word therein; I was much at Old Mike's knee during those callow days, having an appetite for his counsel. “Good-evening, sir,” said the reputable old gentleman, taking a chair which Old Mike's politeness provided, “good-evening, sir. My name is Morton--Mr. Morton of the Morton Bank. I live in Lafayette Place. Incidentally, I am a candidate for the office of Alderman, and I thought I'd take the freedom of a neighbor and a taxpayer and talk with you on that topic of general interest.” “Why then,” returned Old Mike, with a cynical grin, “I'm th' daddy of Big Jawn Kennedy, an' for ye to talk to me would be loike throwin' away your toime.” The reputable old gentleman was set aback by the news. Next he took heart of grace. “For,” he said, turning upon Old Alike a pleasant eye, although just a dash of the patronizing showed in the curve of his brow, “if I should be so fortunate as to explain to you your whole duty of politics, it might influence your son. Your son, I understand, listens greatly to your word.” “He would be a ba-ad son who didn't moind his own father,” returned Old Mike. “As to me jooty av politics--it's th' same as every other man's. It's the jooty av lookin' out for meself.” This open-air selfishness as declared by Old Mike rather served to shock the reputable old gentleman. “And in politics do you think first of yourself?” he asked. “Not only first, but lasht,” replied Old Mike. “An' so do you; an' so does every man.” “I cannot understand the narrowness of your view,” retorted the reputable old gentleman, somewhat austere and distant. “You are a respectable man; you call yourself a good citizen?” “Why,” responded Old Mike, for the other's remark concluded with a rising inflection like a question, “I get along with th' p'lice; an' I get along with th' priests--what more should a man say!” “Are you a taxpayer?” “I have th' house,” responded Old Mike, with a smile. The reputable old gentleman considered the other dubiously. Evidently he didn't regard Old Mike's one-story cottage as all that might be desired in the way of credentials. Still he pushed on. “Have you given much attention to political economy?” This with an erudite cough. “Have you made politics a study?” “From me cradle,” returned Old Mike. “Every Irishman does. I knew so much about politics before I was twinty-one, th' British Government would have transhported me av I'd stayed in Dublin.”