he looked nearer at it all, the difficulties loomed larger than ever, and the rewards seemed to be less, more difficult of approach, and more evanescent.  How many members were there who could never get a hearing!  How many who only spoke to fail!  How many, who spoke well, who could speak to no effect as far as their own worldly prospects were concerned!  He had already known many members of Parliament to whom no outward respect or sign of honour was ever given by any one; and it seemed to him, as he thought over it, that Irish members of Parliament were generally treated with more indifference than any others.  There were O’B——­ and O’C——­ and O’D——­, for whom no one cared a straw, who could hardly get men to dine with them at the club, and yet they were genuine members of Parliament.  Why should he ever be better than O’B——­, or O’C——­, or O’D——?  And in what way should he begin to be better?  He had an idea of the fashion after which it would be his duty to strive that he might excel those gentlemen.  He did not give any of them credit for much earnestness in their country’s behalf, and he was minded to be very earnest.  He would go to his work honestly and conscientiously, determined to do his duty as best he might, let the results to himself be what they would.  This was a noble resolution, and might have been pleasant to him,—­had he not remembered that smile of derision which had come over his friend Erle’s face when he declared his intention of doing his duty to his country as a Liberal, and not of supporting a party.  O’B——­ and O’C——­ and O’D——­ were keen enough to support their party, only they were sometimes a little astray at knowing which was their party for the nonce.  He knew that Erle and such men would despise him if he did not fall into the regular groove,—­and if the Barrington Erles despised him, what would then be left for him?

His moody thoughts were somewhat dissipated when he found one Laurence Fitzgibbon,—­the Honourable Laurence Fitzgibbon,—­a special friend of his own, and a very clever fellow, on board the boat as it steamed out of Kingston harbour.  Laurence Fitzgibbon had also just been over about his election, and had been returned as a matter of course for his father’s county.  Laurence Fitzgibbon had sat in the House for the last fifteen years, and was yet well-nigh as young a man as any in it.  And he was a man altogether different from the O’B——­s, O’C——­s, and O’D——­s.  Laurence Fitzgibbon could always get the ear of the House if he chose to speak, and his friends declared that he might have been high up in office long since if he would have taken the trouble to work.  He was a welcome guest at the houses of the very best people, and was a friend of whom any one might be proud.  It had for two years been a feather in the cap of Phineas that he knew Laurence Fitzgibbon.  And yet people said that Laurence Fitzgibbon had nothing of his own, and men wondered how he lived.  He was the youngest son of Lord Claddagh, an Irish peer with a large family, who could do nothing for Laurence, his favourite child, beyond finding him a seat in Parliament.