“Well,” said old Hayes, slowly, “if I once thought that of him, the devil a vote of mine he 'd get, no matter what his principles were.” “And there you 're wrong, Peter,” said Nelligan. “Matters of good manners and breeding need never be discussed between us. Mr. Massingbred will have _his_ station; we'll have _ours_. There 's a long and weary road before us ere we come to think of our social condition. There 's many a cruel statute to be abolished, many a hard grievance to be redressed.” “And besides that,” said Father Neal, with a shrewd twinkle in his eye, “while we 're doing the one we 'll be helping on the other. Political influence always did, and always will, include rank and station in the world. When English Ministers find their best ally in the Irish Priest, there will be no more sneers at his brogue nor his boots. Men of family and fortune won't shrink from their contact, and maybe you 'll see the day yet when coaches and chariots will drive up to the chapel, and ladies in satin and velvet step out to hear Mass.” A prophetic view of the Millennium itself could not have astonished old Peter Hayes more completely than did this marvellous suggestion of Father Neal; and he moved away muttering a “Heaven grant it!” between his teeth. “Where's the next meeting of the committee to be?” asked Nelligan. “In the Chapel House, to-morrow, at eleven. And that reminds me I 've not sent out the summonses.” And so saying, Father Neal hastily took leave of his friends and left the room. Let us take a glance at Mr. Maurice Scanlan, as, with an extra box-coat ingeniously wrapped around his lower man, he discoursed pleasantly to his companion while he “tooled” along towards Cro' Martin. Not a word of politics, not a syllable on the subject of party, escaped him as he talked. His conversation was entirely of sporting matters: the odds against Leander, the last bettings on “Firebrand,” whether Spicy Bill was really in bad training, as the knowing ones said, and if the course wouldn't “puzzle the young ones” if the wet weather were to continue. Massingbred was sufficiently well versed in these classic themes to be an amusing and even instructive companion, and communicated many a sly piece of intelligence that would have been deemed priceless in “Bell's Life;” and Scanlan quickly conceived a high estimate for one who had graduated at Newmarket, and taken honors at Goodwood. “After the kind of life you 've led in England, I wonder how you endure this country at all,” said Maurice, with real sincerity of voice and manner. “I like it,” said Jack; “the whole thing is new to me, and vastly amusing. I don't mean to say I 'd willingly pass a lifetime in this fashion, but for a few weeks--” “Just so; to give you a better relish for the real thing when you go back again,” said Maurice. “What a neat stepper that leader is!” said Jack, to change the topic from himself and his own affairs. “She's a well-bred one; that's clear.”