"Well," began Condor, "I should think, in ordinary times, a thousand a year; and then, as particular occasion demands."

At this distinct little speech the whole company lifted their glasses that they might more conveniently watch Abel.

With a half-maudlin grin he looked along the line.

"By-the-by, Condor, how much do you give a year?" asked he.

There was a moment's silence.

"Hit, by G----!" energetically said one of the silent men.

"Good for Newt!" cried General Belch, thumping the table.

There was another little burst of laughter, with the least possible merriment in it. William Condor joined with an entirely unruffled face.

"As for Belch," continued Abel, with what would be called in animals an ugly expression--"Belch is the clown, and they left him off easy. The Party is like the old kings, it keeps a good many fools to make it laugh."

His tone was threatening, and nobody laughed. General Belch looked as if he were restraining himself from knocking his friend down. But they all saw that their host was mastered by his own liquor.

"Squeeze Lawrence Newt, will you? Why, Lord, gentlemen, what do you suppose he thinks of you--I mean, of fellows like you?" asked Abel.

He paused, and glared around him. William Condor daintily knocked off the ash of his cigar faith the tip of his little finger, and said, calmly,

"I am sure I don't know."

"Nor care," said General Belch.

"He thinks you're all a set of white-livered sneaks!" shouted Abel, in a voice harsh and hoarse with liquor.

The gentlemen were silent. The leaders wagged their feet nervously; the others looked rather amused.

"No offense," resumed Abel. "I don't mean he despises you in particular, but all bar-room bobtails."

His voice thickened rapidly.

"Of all mean, mis-mis-rabble hounds, he thinks you are the dirt-est."

Still no reply was made. The honorable gentleman looked at his guests leeringly, but found no responsive glance.

"In vino veritas," whispered Condor to his neighbor Belch. William Condor was always clean in linen and calm in manner.

"Don't be 'larmed, fel-fel-f'-low cit-zens! Lawrence Newt's no friend of mine. I guess his G---- d---- pride 'll get a tumble some day; by G---- I do!" Abel added, with a fierce hiss.

The guests looked alarmed as they heard the last words. Abel ceased, and passed the decanter, which they did not decline; for they all felt as if the Honorable Abel Newt would probably throw it at the head of any man who said or did what he did not approve. There was a low anxious murmur of conversation among them until Abel was evidently very intoxicated, and his head sank upon his breast.

"I'm terribly afraid we've burned our fingers," said Mr. Enos Slugby, looking a little ruefully at the honorable representative.

"Oh, I hope not," said General Belch; "but there may be some breakers ahead. If we lose the Grant it won't be the first cause or man that has been betrayed by the bottle. Condor, let me fill your glass. It is clear that if our dear friend Newt has a weakness it is the bottle; and if our enemies at Washington, who want to head off this Grant, have a strength, it is finding out an adversary's soft spot. We may find in this case that it's dangerous playing with edged tools. But I've great faith in his want of principle. We can show him so clearly that his interest, his advance, his career depend so entirely upon his conduct, that I think we can keep him straight. And, for my part, if we can only work this Grant through, I shall retire upon my share of the proceeds, and leave politics to those who love 'em. But I don't mean to have worked for nothing--hey, Condor?"

"Amen," replied William, placidly.

"By-the-by, Condor," said Mr. Enos Slugby.

Mr. Condor turned toward him inquiringly.

"I heard Jim say t'other day--"

"Who's Jim?" asked Condor.

"Jim!" returned Slugby, "Jim--why, Jim's the party in my district."

"Oh yes--yes; I beg pardon," said Condor; "the name had escaped me."

"Well, I heard Jim say t'other day that Mr. William Condor was getting too d----d stuck up, and that he'd yank him out of his office if he didn't mind his eye. That's you, Condor; so I advise you to look out.

It's easy enough to manage Jim, if you take care. He'll go as gently as a well-broke filly; but if he once takes a lurch--if he thinks you're too 'proud' or 'big,' it's all up with you. So mind how you treat Jim."

"Well, well," said Belch, impatiently; "we've other business on hand now."

"Exactly," said Condor; "we are the Honorable Abel's Jim. Turn about is fair play. Jim makes us go; we make Abel go. It's a lovely series of checks and balances."

He said it so quietly and airily that they all laughed. Then the General continued:

"We're going to send Newt to look after Ele, and I rather think we shall have to send somebody to look after Newt. However, we'll see. Let's leave this hog to snore by himself."

They rose as he spoke.

"What were the words of your resolution, Belch?" asked William Condor, with his eyes twinkling. "I don't quite remember. Did you say," he added, looking at Abel, who lay huddled, dead drunk, in his chair, "that he dedicated to his country his profoundest and sincerest, or sincerest and profoundest convictions?"

"And you, Condor," said Enos Slugby, smiling, as he lighted a fresh cigar, "did you say that you were proud and happy, or happy and proud, to call him your friend?"

"Lord! Lord! what an old hum it is--isn't it?" said General Belch, cheerfully, as he smoothed his hat with his coat-sleeve, and put it on.

They went down stairs laughing and chatting; and the Honorable Abel Newt, the worthy exemplar of the purest republican virtues--as the resolution stated when it appeared in the next morning's papers--was left snoring amidst his constituency of empty decanters and drained glasses.

CHAPTER LXXVII.

FACE TO FACE.

"Signore Pittore! what brings a bird into the barn-yard?" said Lawrence Newt, as Arthur Merlin entered his office.

"The hope of some crumb of comfort."

"Do you dip from your empyrean to the cold earth--from the studio to a counting-room--to find comfort?" asked Lawrence Newt, cheerfully.

Arthur Merlin looked only half sympathetic with his friend's gayety.