Our friend “the Buck,” as he was universally called, was no sooner perceived in his usual station under the tree than there was a rapid gathering of the assembled crowd to hear him.

“Hallo, Paddy! what’s the matther? where are you goin’ to in sich a hell of a hurry?”

“Blood alive! man, sure Buck English is at his post to-day.”

“How at his post?”

“Why under the three where he always is when he comes here af a Sunday.”

“Hut! sure I know that; come, begad, let us hear him.”

“Faith, it’s he that’s up to the outs and ins of everything.  Sure the Counsellor himself made mintion of him in a great speech some time ago.  It seems the Buck sent him up five pounds in a letther, and the Counsellor read the letther, and said it came from a most respectable gentleman, a friend of his, one Barney—­no, not Barney—­it wasn’t Barney he called him, but—­but—­let me see—­ay, begad—­Bir—­Birnard—­ay, one Birnard English, Esquire, from the Barony of Treena Heela; bekaise, as the Buck doesn’t keep himself very closely to any particular place of livin’, he dated his letther, I suppose, from the Barony at large.”

“At any rate one thing’s clear, that he’s high up wid the Counsellor, an’ if he wasn’t one man in ten thousand he wouldn’t be that.”

They had now reached the tree, and found that, short as the time was, a considerable crowd had already assembled about him, so that they were obliged to stand pretty far out in the circle.  One or two young men, sons of most respectable farmers—­for it somehow happened that the Buck was no great favorite with the seniors—­stood, or rather had the honor of standing, within the circle, for the purpose of “houldin’ conversation wid him;” for it could not reasonably be supposed that the Buck could throw away such valuable political information and high-flown English upon mere boors, who were incapable of understanding either the one or the other.

“And so, Mr. English,” said one of those whom, he had brought within the circle, “you think the established church, the great heresy of Luther,—­will go down at last?”

“Think it, Tom—­why, if you get me a book I’ll swear it, and that’s better than thinking any dee.  Didn’t Emencipation pess? answer me that.”

“Begad it did so, sir,”—­from the crowd.  “Well,” proceeded the Buck, “what doubt or hesiteetion can there be that the seem power and authority that riz our own church won’t be keepable of puttin’ down the great protesting heresy?”

“See that now,” from the crowd; “begad it stands to raison sure enough.”

“Certainly,” he proceeded, “none what-somever; but then the question is, how can it be effectualized?”

The crowd—­“Begad, and so it is.”

“Well, my friends, it isn’t at oll difficult to determine that particularity:  you oll know that a men lives by food—­very well; pleece that men in a persition where he can’t procur food and the nethrel kensiquence is that he must die.  Eh—­ha! ha! ha!—­do you kimprehind?”