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Phelim, acushla, see what it is to be hard an the poor!" "Oh, he was ever an' always the biggest nagar livin', ma'am. Ay, an' when he was tied up, till a blessed priest 'ud be brought to maliwgue the divil out of him, he got a scythe an' cut his own two hands off." "No thin, Phelim!" "Faitha, ma'am, sure enough. I suppose, ma'am, you hard about Biddy Duignan?" "Who is she, Phelim?"

"Why the misfortunate crathurs a daughter of her father's, ould Mick Duignan, of Tavenimore." "An' what about her, Phehm! What happened her?" "Faix, ma'am, a bit of a mistake she met wid; but, anyhow, ould Harry Connolly's to stand in the chapel nine Sundays, an' to make three Stations to Lough Dergh for it. Bedad, they say it's as purty a crathur as you'd see in a day's thravellin'."

Chamberlain had not a moment to spare; he had just time to glance at the contents of the telegram when he rose to speak, and all he did was to read the telegram, which was a confirmation by Mr. Duignan of the general accuracy of the previous evening. This was a score for Joe, and his friends were delighted to recover something of their lost spirit. Mr.

Chamberlain's dealings with the Irish members had been challenged, as I have said, by Mr. Chamberlain, and he now rose to read the historic letter of Mr. Duignan, which, he claimed, justified his account. Several attempts were made to stop Mr. Harrington, and the Tories during this were decidedly annoyed and embarrassed because Mr. Chamberlain happened not to be in his place.