When I was honest, I was honest like a man; and when I did the roguery, I did it like a open, fearless knave, that defied the world and scorned hypocrisy.

I am, therefore, the same consistent old scoundrel as ever; or the same bluff, good-humored rascal which your old father--who sold his country--and yourself--who would sell it too, if you had one to sell--ever found me.
To make short work, then, I want you to dismiss that poor, scurvy devil, Hickman, from your agency, and put that misbegotten spawn of mine in his place.

I mean Val M'Clutchy, or Val the Vulture, as they have very properly christened him.

Hickman's not the thing, in any sense.

He can't manage the people, and they impose upon him--then you suffer, of course.
Bedsides, he's an anti-ascendancy man, of late, and will go against you at the forthcoming Election.