the bond--"

"There is no saying what he wouldn't have done to the bailiffs,"
interrupted Dennis, who was following up a very different train of
reasoning.

"I fear me, Doctor," observed Quill, "you are much behind us in Scotland.
Not but that some of your chieftains are respectable men, and wouldn't get
on badly even in Galway."

"I thank ye muckle for the compliment," said the doctor, dryly; "but I ha'e
my doubts they'd think it ane, and they're crusty carls that's no' ower
safe to meddle wi'."

"I'd as soon propose a hand of 'spoiled five' to the Pope of Rome, as a
joke to one of them," returned Maurice.

"May be ye are na wrang there, Maister Quell."

"Well," cried Hampden, "if I may be allowed an opinion, I can safely aver I
know no quarters like Scotland. Edinburgh beyond anything or anywhere I was
ever placed in."

"Always after Dublin," interposed Maurice; while a general chorus of voices
re-echoed the sentiment.

"You are certainly a strong majority," said my friend, "against me; but
still I recant not my original opinion. Edinburgh before the world. For a
hospitality that never tires; for pleasant fellows that improve every day
of your acquaintance; for pretty girls that make you long for a repeal of
the canon about being only singly blessed, and lead you to long for a score
of them, Edinburgh,--I say again, before the world."

"Their ankles are devilish thick," whispered Maurice.

"A calumny, a base calumny!"

"And then they drink--"

"Oh--"

"Yes; they drink very strong tea."

"Shall we ha'e a glass o' sherry together, Hampden?" said the Scotch
doctor, willing to acknowledge his defence of auld Reekie.

"And we'll take O'Malley in," said Hampden; "he looks imploringly."

"And now to return to the charge," quoth Maurice. "In what particular dare
ye contend the palm with Dublin? We'll not speak of beauty. I can't suffer
any such profane turn in the conversation as to dispute the superiority of
Irishwomen's lips, eyes, noses, and eyebrows, to anything under heaven.
We'll not talk of gay fellows; egad, we needn't. I'll give you the
garrison,--a decent present,--and I'll back the Irish bar for more genuine
drollery, more wit, more epigram, more ready sparkling fun, than the whole
rest of the empire--ay, and all her colonies--can boast of."

"They are nae remarkable for passing the bottle, if they resemble their
very gifted advocate," observed the Scotchman.

"But they are for filling and e