a profound politician, profoundly hidden at present, like powder in a
mine--the same person. And opposite to him was Mr. John Mattock, a worthy
antagonist, delightful to rouse, for he carried big guns and took the
noise of them for the shattering of the enemy, and this champion could be
pricked on to a point of assertion sure to fire the phlegm in Philip; and
then young Patrick might be trusted to warm to the work. Three heroes out
skirmishing on our side. Then it begins to grow hot, and seeing them at
it in earnest, Forbery glows and couches his gun, the heaviest weight of
the Irish light brigade. Gallant deeds! and now Mr. Marbury Dyke opens on
Forbery's flank to support Mattock hardpressed, and this artillery of
English Rockney resounds, with a similar object: the ladies to look on
and award the crown of victory, Saxon though they be, excepting Rockney's
wife, a sure deserter to the camp of the brave, should fortune frown on
them, for a punishment to Rockney for his carrying off to himself a
flower of the Green Island and holding inveterate against her native land
in his black ingratitude. Oh! but eloquence upon a good cause will win
you the hearts of all women, Saxon or other, never doubt of it. And Jane
Mattock there, imbibing forced doses of Arthur Adister, will find her
patriotism dissolving in the natural human current; and she and Philip
have a pretty wrangle, and like one another none the worse for not
agreeing: patriotically speaking, she's really unrooted by that
half-thawed colonel, a creature snow-bound up to his chin; and already
she's leaping to be transplanted. Jane is one of the first to give her
vote for the Irish party, in spite of her love for her brother John: in
common justice, she says, and because she hopes for complete union
between the two islands. And thereupon we debate upon union. On the
whole, yes: union, on the understanding that we have justice, before you
think of setting to work to sow the land with affection:--and that 's a
crop in a clear soil will spring up harvest-thick in a single summer
night across St. George's Channel, ladies! . . .

Indeed a goodly vision of strife and peace: but, politics forbidden, it
was entirely a dream, seeing that politics alone, and a vast amount of
blowing even on the topic of politics, will stir these English to enter
the arena and try a fall. You cannot, until you say ten times more than
you began by meaning, and have heated yourself to fancy you mean