But we shall state the facts.
"Here, Tom," said Reilly, "is the reward for your fidelity," as he handed him some silver; "and mark me, Tom, don't breathe to a human being that you have brought me a letter from the _Cooleen Bawn_.

Go into the house and get something to eat; there now--go and get one of your bully dinners." "It is true," said he, "too true I am doomed-devoted.

If I remain in this country I am lost.

Yes, my life, my love, my more than life--I feel as you do, that our fates, whether for good or evil, are inseparable.
Yes, I shall see you this night if I have life." He had scarcely concluded this soliloquy when his namesake, Fergus Reiliy, disguised in such a way as prevented him from being recognized, approached him, in the lowly garb of a baccah or mendicant.
"Well, my good fellow," said he, "what do you want?
Go up to the house and you will get food." "Keep quiet," replied the other, disclosing himself, "keep quiet; get all your money into one purse, settle your affairs as quickly as you can, and fly the country this night, or otherwise sit down and make your will and your peace with God Almighty, for if you are found here by to-morrow night you sleep in Sligo jail.

Throw me a few halfpence, making as it were charity.