"All gammon, sir! all gammon!" is the rejoinder of the laird, "I wouldn't give a fig for the whole pack. One or two of them, I admit, are tolerably respectable men. Lord John Russel belongs to the old nobility, and is a man of some sense, but sadly deceived, full of nonsensical plans and dangerous reforms. As to Dan. O'Connel, he is an old fox, a regular Irish blackguard, who has not heart enough to make a living by honest means, but fleeces it out of the starving Irish, in the shape of repeal rent! Hang the rascal, I should be glad to see him gibbeted! Hume is a mean, beggarly adventurer. And even Sir Robert Peel, with all his excellences, has made sad mistakes on the subject of reform and the corn laws. He's not the thing, after all! Sadly out of joint, sir, sadly out of joint!" All this is said with such terrible energy, and such a menacing frown, that even the lawyer cowers a little, and the dominie is almost frightened. We think it best, upon the whole, to say little. But, plucking up courage, the lawyer replies: "Sir, you come to conclusions that are too sweeping. That Lord John Russel is a man of clear intellect and admirable forethought no one will think of denying. His plans are well matured, and, moreover, aim at the good of his country. Hume is a great political economist: Sir R. Peel is a man of the highest order of mind; and Daniel O'Connel, with all his faults, possesses uncommon powers of eloquence, and, doubtless, seeks the good of his country." "The good of his country! All humbug, sir! If you had said his own good, you would have come nearer the mark. He's a rascal, sir, rely on it, a mean cowardly rascal, who, pretending to benefit the poor Irish, fills his own pockets with their hard earnings. I appeal to Mr. Cooper here, my respected friend, the parish schoolmaster of Auchingray." To which the dominie replies demurely: