“Not the laste in the worruld!” responded Fitzgibbons, making space for the stranger on the bench. After resting and drawing away industriously at his pipe for a few moments, McKenna remembered a Philadelphia _Inquirer_ which he had obtained that forenoon and not yet examined, and, taking it from his pocket, commenced reading. He knew this would excite his companion’s curiosity. Soon Fitzgibbons remarked: “Would ye be plazed to rade to me a bit? Me eyes are none of the best, an’ the little I has I save fur the good of the Company. What do the paper say about the State elections?” “I’ll rade to ye wid pleasure,” said the agent, and he proceeded to give all that he found of interest. After commenting at some length upon the contents of the sheet, and having his pipe freshly filled with McKenna’s fragrant tobacco, the switchman was more chatty. In a little while he entered his box, and returned bearing in his hand a copy of the well-known Boston _Pilot_, which he proffered to his comrade. After skimming hastily over the Irish news and some telegraphic intelligence, he came to an article headed, “The Mobocrats of Pennsylvania.” This he read carefully aloud to the old man. It was a scathing blow at the Mollie Maguires, giving them deserved condemnation, and appeared in the shape of correspondence. After finishing it, McKenna asked: “What is this all about?” Evidently much excited, Fitzgibbons answered: “But isn’t it a sarching piece, though? It slathers them butcherin’ vagabones widout mercy! O, I would like to know who has writ it!” McKenna kept down his anxiety to learn more, and said nothing, when the switchman continued: “Ye have heard of the society? Av coorse ye have! An’ now they’ve got across the big say, till America, an’ into the mines! But doesn’t that article cut them deep, tho’? It has created quite a ruction here—and no wonder! It was a great thing, the getting up of that piece! It do lay on the lash to the backs of the Mollie Maguires in splendid style!” The old man was evidently an opponent of the order, or he was endeavoring to draw out the opinion of his friend. McKenna determined to let him know what he was supposed to think, but which was the very opposite of his real convictions. “It must be that such writin’s will damage the interests of the Irish people in the coal regions. Don’t you agree wid me in this?” Fitzgibbons was touched at a tender spot and flared up in an instant, moving involuntarily further from the operative, his dark but expressive face ablaze with honest indignation, saying vehemently: