“Mr. Burke,” replied Finigan, assuming a lofty and impressive manner, “I have known the M'Mahons for better than forty years; so, in fact, has the country around them; and until the present moment I never heard that a deliberate falsehood, or any breach of truth whatsoever, was imputed to any one of them. Tom M'Mahon's simple word was never doubted, and would pass aquil to many a man's oath; and it is the same thing wid the whole family, man and women. They are proverbial, sir, for truth and integrity, and a most spontaneous effusion of candor under all circumstances. You will pardon me then, Mr. Hycy, if I avow a trifle of heresy in this matter. You are yourself, wid great respect be it spoken, sometimes said to sport your imagination occasionally, and to try your hand wid considerable success at a _lapsus veritatis_. Pardon me, then, if I think it somewhat more probable that you have just now stated what an ould instructor of mine used to call a moral thumper; excuse me, I say; and at all events I have the pleasure of drinking your health; and if my conjecture be appropriate, here's also a somewhat closer adhesion to the _veritas_ aforesaid to you!” “Do you mean to insinuate that I'm stating what is not true?” said Burke, assuming an offended look, which, however, he did not feel. “No, sir,” replied Finigan, retorting his look with one of indignant scorn, “far be it from me to insinuate any such thing. I broadly, and in all the latitudinarianism of honest indignation, assert that it is a d--d lie, begging your pardon, and drinking to your moral improvement a second time; and ere you respond to what I've said, it would be as well, in order to have the matter copiously discussed, if you ordhered in a fresh supply of liquor, and help yourself, for, if the proverb be true--_in vino veritas_--there it is again, but truth will be out, you see--who knows but we may come to a thrifle of it from you yet? Ha! ha! ha! Excuse the jest, Mr. Hycy. You remember little Horace,-- “'Quid vetat ridentem dicere verum?'” “Do you mean to say, sirra,” said Hycy, “that I have stated a lie?” “I mean to say that whoever asserts that I misrepresented you in any way to Bryan M'Mahon, or ever cautioned him against you, states a lie of the first magnitude--a moral thumper, of gigantic dimensions.” “Well, will you tell me what you did say to him?” “What I did say,” echoed Finigan. “Well,” he added, after a pause, during which he I surveyed Hycy pretty closely--having now discovered that he was, in fact, only proceeding upon mere suspicion--“I believe I must acknowledge a portion of the misrepresentation. I must, on secondary consideration, plead guilty to that fact.” “I thought as much,” said Hycy. “Here then--,” proceeded Finigan, with a broad and provoking grin upon his coarse but humorous features, “here, Mr. Hycy, is what I did say--says I, 'Bryan, I have a word to say to you, touching an accomplished young gentleman, a friend of yours.'