He had killed a stag in company with Mr.Palliser, and had stopped beneath a crag to discuss with him a question as to the duty on Irish malt.

He had played chess with Mr.
Gresham, and had been told that gentleman's opinion on the trial of Mr.Jefferson Davis.

Lord Brentford had--at last--called him Finn, and had proved to him that nothing was known in Ireland about sheep.
But with Mr.Monk he had had long discussions on abstract questions in politics,--and before the week was over was almost disposed to call himself a disciple, or, at least, a follower of Mr.Monk.

Why not of Mr.Monk as well as of any one else?
Mr.Monk was in the Cabinet, and of all the members of the Cabinet was the most advanced Liberal.

"Lady Glencora was not so far wrong the other night," Mr.
Monk said to him.