present niche of vantage he was at least safe. And added to his
safety there were material comforts. He had more than enough for his
wants. His work was light: he lived among men and women with whom he
was popular. The very fact of his past parliamentary life had caused
him to be regarded as a man of some note among the notables of the
Irish capital. Lord Lieutenants were gracious to him, and the wives
of judges smiled upon him at their tables. He was encouraged to talk
of those wars of the gods at which he had been present, and was so
treated as to make him feel that he was somebody in the world of
Dublin. Now he was invited to give all this up; and for what?

He answered that question to himself with enthusiastic eloquence. The
reward offered to him was the thing which in all the world he liked
best. It was suggested to him that he should again have within his
reach that parliamentary renown which had once been the very breath
of his nostrils. We all know those arguments and quotations,
antagonistic to prudence, with which a man fortifies himself in
rashness. "None but the brave deserve the fair." "Where there's a
will there's a way." "Nothing venture nothing have." "The sword is
to him who can use it." "Fortune favours the bold!" But on the other
side there is just as much to be said. "A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush." "Look before you leap." "Thrust not out your hand
further than you can draw it back again." All which maxims of life
Phineas Finn revolved within his own heart, if not carefully, at
least frequently, as he walked up and down the long pier of Kingston
Harbour.

But what matter such revolvings? A man placed as was our Phineas
always does that which most pleases him at the moment, being but poor
at argument if he cannot carry the weight to that side which best