"He calls it Lafitte. These fellows think all red wines come from the Bordeaux country. Here it is,--marked seven francs."

"Cheap at double the price. My governor will take every bottle of it."

"Not before I leave, I hope," said O'Shea, laughing. "I trust he 'll respect what they call vested interests."

"Oh, by the way," said the other, indolently, "you _are_ going?"

"Yes. Our party are getting uneasy, and I am constantly receiving letters pressing me to return to England."

"Want you in the House, perhaps?" said Heathcote, as he puffed his cigar in lazy enjoyment.

"Just so. You see, a parliamentary session is a sort of campaign in which every arm of warfare is needed. You want your great guns for the grand battles, your dashing cavalry charges for emergencies, and your light skirmishers to annoy the enemy and disconcert his advance."

"And which are _you?_" asked the other, in a tone of bantering indifference.

"Well, I 'm what you might call a mounted rifleman,--a dash of the dragoon with a spice of the sharpshooter."

"Sharp enough, I take it," muttered Heathcote, who bethought him of the billiard-table, and the wonderful "hazards" O'Shea used to accomplish.

"You understand," resumed the Member, confidentially, "I don't come out on the Budget, or Reform, or things of that kind; but I lie by till I hear some one make a blunder or a mistake, no matter how insignificant, and then I 'm down on him, generally with an anecdote--something he reminds me of--and for which I 'm sure to have the laugh against him.

It's so easy, besides, to make them laugh; the worst jokes are always successful in the House of Commons."

"Dull fellows, I suppose?" chimed in Heathcote.

"No, indeed; not that. Go down with six or eight of them to supper, and you'll say you never met pleasanter company. 'T is being caged up there all together, saying the same things over and over, that's what destroys them."

"It must be a bore, I take it?" sighed out Heathcote.

"I'll tell you what it is," said O'Shea, as, in a voice of deepest confidence, he leaned over the table and spoke,--"I 'll tell you what it is. Did you ever play the game called Brag, with very little money in your pocket?"

Heathcote nodded what might mean assent or the opposite.

"That's what Parliament is," resumed O'Shea. "You sit there, night after night, year after year, wondering within yourself, 'Would it be safe for me to play this hand? Shall I venture now?' You know well that if you _do_ back your luck and lose, that it's all up with you forever, so that it's really a mighty serious thing to risk it. At last, maybe, you take courage. You think you 've got the cards; it's half-past two o'clock; the House is thin, and every one is tired and sleepy. Up you get on your legs to speak. You're not well down again, till a fellow from the back benches, you thought sound asleep, gets up and tears all you said to tatters,--destroys your facts, scatters your inferences, and maybe laughs at your figures of speech."

"Not so pleasant, that," said Heathcote, languidly.

"Pleasant! it's the devil!" said O'Shea, violently; "for you hear the pen scratching away up in the reporters' gallery, and you know it will be all over Europe next morning."

"Then why submit to all this?" asked Heathcote, more eagerly.

"Just as I said awhile ago; because you might chance upon a good card, and 'brag' on it for something worth while. It's all luck."

"Your picture of political life is not fascinating," said Heathcote, coldly.

"After all, do you know, I like it," resumed O'Shea. "As long as you 've a seat in the House, there's no saying when you might n't be wanted; and then, when the session's over, and you go down to the country, you are the terror of all the fellows that never sat in Parliament. If they say a word about public matters, you put them down at once with a cool 'I assure you, sir, that's not the view we take of it in the House.'"

"I 'd say, 'What's that to _me?_'"

"No, you would n't,--not a bit of it; or, if you did, nobody would mind you, and for this reason,--it's the _real_ place, after all. Why do you pay Storr and Mortimer more than another jeweller? Just because you're sure of the article. There now, that's how it is!"

"There's some one knocking at the door, I think," said Heathcote; but at the same instant Joe's head appeared inside, with a request to be admitted. "'T is the telegraph," said he, presenting a packet.

"I have asked for a small thing in Jamaica, some ten or twelve hundred a year," whispered O'Shea to his friend. "I suppose this is the reply."

And at the same time he threw the portentous envelope carelessly on the table.

Either Heathcote felt no interest in the subject, or deemed it proper to seem as indifferent as his host, for he never took any further notice of the matter, but smoked away as before.

"You need n't wait," said O'Shea to Joe, who still lingered at the door. "That fellow is bursting with curiosity now," said he, as the man retired; "he 'd give a year's wages to know what was inside that envelope."

"Indeed!" sighed ont Heathcote, in a tone that showed how little he sympathized with such eagerness.

If O'Shea was piqued at this cool show of indifference, he resolved to surpass it by appearing to forget the theme altogether; and, pushing the bottle across the table, he said, "Did I ever tell you how it was I first took to politics?"

"No, I think not," said Heathoote, listlessly.

"Well, it was a chance, and a mere chance; this is the way it happened.

Though I was bred to the Bar, I never did much at the law; some say that an agreeable man, with a lively turn in conversation, plenty of anecdote, and a rich fancy, is never a favorite with the attorneys; the rascals always think that such a man will never make a lawyer, and though they 'll listen to his good stories by the hour in the Hall, devil a brief they 'll give him, nor so much as a 'declaration.' Well, for about five years I walked about in wig and gown, joking and quizzing and humbugging all the fellows that were getting business, and taking a circuit now and again, but all to no good; and at last I thought I 'd give it up, and so my friends advised me, saying, 'Get something under the Government, Gorman; a snug place with a few hundreds a year, and be sure take anything that 's offered you to begin with.'

"Now there was a room in Dublin Castle--it's the second down the corridor off the private stairs--that used to be called the Poker-room.

It may be so still, for anything I know, and for this reason: it was there all the people expecting places or appointments were accustomed to wait. It was a fine, airy, comfortable room, with a good carpet, easy-chairs, and always an excellent fire; and here used to meet every day of their lives the same twenty or five-and-twenty people, one occasionally dropping off, and another coming in, but so imperceptibly and gradually that the gathering at last grew to be a sort of club, where they sat from about eleven till dark every day, chatting pleasantly over public and private events. It was thus found necessary to give it a kind of organization, and so we named for President the oldest,--that is, the longest expectant of place,--who, by virtue of his station, occupied the seat next the fire, and alone, of all the members, possessed the privilege of poking it. The poker was his badge of office; and the last act of his official life, whenever promotion separated him from us, was to hand the poker to his successor, with a solemn dignity of manner and a few parting words.

[Illustration: 233]

I verily believe that most of us got to be so fond of the club that it was the very reverse of a pleasure when we had to leave it to become, maybe, a Police Inspector at Skibbereen, Postmaster at Tory Island, or a Gauger at Innismagee; and so we jogged on, from one Viceroy to another, very happy and contented. Well, it was the time of a great Marquis,--I won't say who, but he was the fast friend of O'Connell,--and we all of us thought that there would be plenty of fine things given away, and the poker-room was crammed, and I was the President, having ascended the throne two years and a half before. It was somewhere early in March; a cold raw day it was. I had scarcely entered the club, than a messenger bawled out, 'Gorman O'Shea,--Mr. Gorman O'Shea.' 'Here he is,' said I.

'Wanted in the Chief Secretary's office,' said he, 'immediately.' I gave a knowing wink to the company around the fire, and left the room. Three mortal hours did I stand in the ante-room below, seeing crowds pass in and out before I was called in; and then, as I entered, saw a little wizened, sharp-faced man standing with his back to the fire paring his nails. He never so much as looked at me, but said in a careless, muttering sort of way,--

"'You're the gentleman who wishes to go as resident magistrate to Oackatoro, ain't you?'

"'Well, indeed, sir, I'm not quite sure,' I began.

"'Oh yes, you are,' broke he in. 'I know all about you. Your name has been favorably mentioned to the office. You are Mr. O'Gorman--'

"'Mr. Gorman O'Shea,' said I, proudly.

"'The same thing, Gorman O'Shea. I remember it now. Your appointment will be made out: five hundred a year, and a retiring pension after six years; house, and an allowance for monkeys.'

"'A what?' asked I.

"'The place is much infested with a large species of oorang-outang, and the governor gives so much per head for destroying them. Mr. Simpson, in the office, will give you full information. You are to be at your post by the 1st of August.'

"'Might I make bold to ask where Whackatory is?'

"'Oackatoro, sir,' said he, proudly, 'is the capital of Fighi. I trust I need not say where that is.'

"'By no means,' said I, modestly; and, muttering my thanks for the advancement, I backed out, almost deranged to think that I did n't know where I was going.

"'Where is it? What is it? How much is it, O'Shea?' cried thirty ardent voices, as I entered the club.

"'It's five hundred a year,' said I, 'without counting the monkeys. It's a magistrate's place; but may a gooseberry skin make a nightcap for me if I know where the devil it is!'