r the old country!--one's family to boot!

Those two were in the middle of the table, and it is beyond mortal,
beyond Irish, capacity, from one end of a table of eighteen to whip up
the whole body of them into a lively unanimous froth, like a dish of
cream fetched out of thickness to the airiest lightness. Politics, in
the form of a firebrand or apple of Discord, might knead them together
and cut them in batches, only he had pledged his word to his wife to
shun politics as the plague, considering Mr. Mattock's presence. And yet
it was tempting: the recent Irish news had stung him; he could say sharp
things from the heart, give neat thrusts; and they were fairly
divided and well matched. There was himself, a giant; and there was an
unrecognised bard of his country, no other than himself too; and there
was 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 f