“It occurred to me now, that as Solomon’s heart was a little bit open, and as the tide of conversation flowed both loud and tumultuous, it was a very good opportunity of getting out of him a tolerably fair account of the persons by whom we were surrounded.  I accordingly asked him the name and occupation of several whom I had observed as the most striking individuals present.

“‘That large man with the red face,’ said I, ’beside your pious and musical friend Spaight—­who is he?’

“’He is an Orange butcher, sir, who would think very little of giving a knock on the head to any Protestant who won’t deal with him.  His landlord’s tenants are about half Catholics and half Protestants, and as he makes it a point to leave them his custom in about equal degrees, this fellow—­who, between you and me—­is right in the principle, if he would only carry it out a little more quietly—­makes it a standing grievance every lodge night.  And, by and by, you will hear them abuse each other like pickpockets for the same reason.  There is a grim-looking fellow, with the great fists, a blacksmith, who is at deadly enmity with that light firm-looking man—­touching the shoeing of M’Clutchy’s cavalry.  Val, who knows a thing or two, if I may so speak, keeps them one off and the other on so admirably, that he contrives to get his own horses shod and all his other iron work done, free, gratis, for nothing between them.  This is the truth, brother Weasel:  in fact my dear brother Weasel, it is the truth.  There are few here who are not moved by some personal hope or expectation from something or from somebody.  Down there near the door are a set of fellows—­whisper in your ear—­about as great scoundrels as you could meet with; insolent, fierce, furious men, with bad passions and no principles, whose chief delight is to get drunk—­to kick up party feuds in fairs and markets, and who have, in fact, a natural love for strife.  But all are not so.  There are many respectable men here who, though a little touched, as is only natural after all, by a little cacoethes of self-interest, yet, never suffer it to interfere with the steadiness and propriety of their conduct, or the love of peace and good will.  It is these men, who, in truth, sustain the character of the Orange-Institution.  These are the men of independence and education who repress—­as far as they can—­the turbulence and outrage of the others.  But harken! now they begin.’

“At this moment the din in the room was excessive.  Phil had now begun to feel the influence of liquor, as was evident from the frequent thumpings which the table received at his hand—­the awful knitting of his eyebrows, as he commanded silence—­and the multiplicity of ’d—­n my honors,’ which interlarded his conversation.

“‘Silence, I say,’ he shouted; ’d—­n my honor if I’ll bear this.  Here’s Mr. Weasel—­eh—­Evil, or Devil; d—­n my honor, I forget—­who has come ov—­over all the way—­(All the way from Galloway, is that it?—­go on)—­all the way from England, to get a good sample of Protestantism to bring home with him to distribute among his father’s tenantry.  Now if he can’t find that among ourselves to-night, where the devil would, or could, or ought he to go look for it?’