Yes, your honor, that's the upshot from Ballymackfud--two day's work--a sick goose (for I disremembered to mention that Barney said, wid a wink, that she'd require great attintion, as she was in a delicate state of health)--one ould hen, and a half-a-dozen eggs; which wouldn't be the case, only for Hickman--not but he's a very respectable gentleman--by all accounts." "I told you before, sirra, that I will have nothing offensive to him mentioned in my presence.

Give this letter to Mr.M'Slime, and bring me an answer as soon as you can.

Will you have a glass of spirits ?" "Would it be intherfairin' wid my duty, sir ?" "If you think so, don't take it; you ought to know best." "Well, then, for this one time, in regard of a _Lhin-roe_* or the red wather in my stomach, I'll try it.

I drank bog-bine last night goin' to bed, but divil a morsel o' good it did me." * Lhin-roe, or red water--the Irish name for heart-burn.
M'Clutchy handed him a full glass, which he held steadily before his eye, till the other put up the decanter.
"Your honor's health, sir," said he, "and fireside; and if you war to throw me out o' fifty windies, I'll add to that--here's wishin' that the divil had his own, and I know where you'd soon be." "How, you villainous scoundrel," said Val, starting with rising wrath, "what do you mean by that ?" Darby made no reply, but hastily tossing off the glass, he seized his hat, bolted outside the door, and putting in his head, said in a kind of loud but confidential whisper-- "IN HICKMAN'S PLACE, your honor!".