Ned M\'Grane was reading the paper as Denis Monaghan came into the forge, with a hearty, "God save all here."

"God save you kindly, Denis," said Ned, "an\' keep you from ever aspirin\' to be a candidate at an election."

"What\'s your raison for sayin\' such a thing as that, Ned?"

"Well, Denis, I was just turnin\' over in me mind all the lies that does be scattered around an\' all the trickery an\' deceit an\' humbug that comes into the world durin\' election times, an\' I was just sayin\' to meself, \'I hope an\' pray, Ned M\'Grane, that neither you nor any of your friends or relations or dacint neighbours \'ll ever be tempted be the divil to go up as candidate for election, either as a Poor Law Guardian, District Councillor, County Councillor, Mimber o\' Parliament, or anythin\' else that has to be voted for, because as sure as ever you do you\'ll have to turn on the tap o\' the keg where every man keeps his store o\' lies in case the truth ever fails him, an\' let it flow like the Falls o\' Niagara after a flood.\' An\' that\'s the raison, Denis, I put that tail on to \'God save you kindly,\' because I don\'t want to see an old friend like yourself ever fallin\' as low as that."

"I don\'t think there\'s much fear o\' me, Ned."

[Pg 95]

"You never can tell, Denis; you never can tell. I seen sensibler men than Denis Monaghan—because, as you are well aware, you have a streak o\' th\' amadán in you, the same as meself—an\' you\'d think they\'d never set the few brains they had trottin\' an\' twistin\' about election honours, as they\'re called, an\' then some fine day or another when th\' Ould Boy finds it too hot to be at home an\' takes to prowlin\' an\' meandrin\' about the world he comes along an\' shouts in a whisper into me honest man\'s brain box that it\'d be a grand thing for him to have his name in the papers an\' on big strips o\' paper as wide as a quilt on every old wall an\' gate post, an\' to be elected as a councillor or a guardian an\' be able to gabble round a table every week an\' have people lookin\' up to him an\' thinkin\' him a great fella, an\' expectin\' him to make the country a plot out o\' the Garden of Eden, the same as is promised in every election address, and so me poor man, bein\' maybe not on his guard, an\' a bit seedy or sick or somethin\' finds th\' Ould Boy\'s palaver sweeter than the screechin\' o\' three hungry pigs, an\' with his teeth waterin\' he makes up his mind to go forward as a candidate. An\' that\'s how the whole thing happens, Denis.

"You know yourself the blathers an\' the humbugs dacint men make o\' themselves when they set out on the road to a Council seat or to be a chip o\' the Board o\' Guardians or an M.P., or anythin\' else that has to be voted for, an\' you know all the lies an\' tomfoolery that\'s pelted about like clods at such a time. One fella says that he\'ll cut the taxes across in the middle, the same as if you got a splash-hook at them, an\'[Pg 96] another fella promises to mend all the broken backed bridges in the barony, ............