against the Bill, and, amid the loudest cheering of the Opposition, the Government party were defeated. The rage of the Ministers knew no bounds, and looks of defiance and even threats were exchanged between the Ministers and the deserters. Amid all this poor Harry fell fast asleep, and dreamed that he was once more in Exchequer Street, presiding among the monks, and mixing another tumbler. At length he awoke and looked about him—the clerk was just at the instant reading out, in his usual routine manner, a clause of the new Bill, and the remainder of the House was in dead silence, Harry looked again around on every side, wondering where was the hot water, and what had become of the whisky-bottle, and, above all, why the company were so extremely dull and ungenial. At length, with a half shake, he roused up a little, and giving a look of unequivocal contempt on every side, called out, “Upon my soul, you’re pleasant companions—but I’ll give you a chant to enliven you.” So saying, he cleared his throat with a couple of short coughs, and struck up, with the voice of a Stentor, the following verse of a popular ballad:—
Like mice in a round of Glo’ster;
Great rogues they were all, both great and small,
From Flood to Loslie Foster.
“‘Great rogues all,’
“‘Chorus, boys.’
“If he was not joined by the voices of his friends in the song, it was probably because such a roar of laughing never was heard since the walls were roofed over. The whole House rose in a mass, and my friend Harry was hurried over the benches by the Sergeant-at-Arms, and left for three weeks in Newgate to practise his melody.”
“All true,” said Sir Harry, “and worse luck to them for not liking music; but come, now, will this do?—‘It is our melancholy duty to announce the death of Godfrey O’Malley, Esq., late Member for the county of Galway, which took place on Friday evening, at Daly’s Club House. This esteemed gentleman’s family—one of the oldest in Ireland, and among whom it was hereditary not to have any children’”
Here a burst of laughter from Considine and O’Malley interrupted the reader, who with the greatest difficulty could be persuaded that he was again bulling it. “The devil fly away with it,” said he, “I’ll never succeed.”
“Never mind,” said O’Malley; “the first part will do admirably; and let us now turn our attention to other matters,”
A fresh magnum was called for, and over its inspiring contents all the details of the funeral were planned; and, as the clock struck four, the party separated for the night, well satisfied with the result of their labours.
