'But I am always the sport of misfortunes--small and great.

If there was an ould woman to be handed in to supper--or a man to be murthered by mistake--or an ugly girl to be danced with, whose turn was it, ever and always to do the business, but poor Hyacinth O'Flaherty's--( tears).

I could tell you, Puddock,' he continued, forgetting his wrath, and letting his prisoner go, in his eager pathos--the Frenchman made his escape in a twinkling--'I was the only man in our regiment that tuck the mazles in Cork, when it was goin' among the children, bad luck to them--I that was near dyin' of it when I was an infant; and I was the only officer in the regiment, when we were at Athlone, that was prevented going to the race ball--and I would not for a hundred pounds.

I was to dance the first minuet, and the first country dance, with that beautiful creature, Miss Rose Cox.

I was makin' a glass of brandy punch--not feelin' quite myself--and I dhressed and all, in our room, when Ensign Higgins, a most thoughtless young man, said something disrespectful about a beautiful mole she had on her chin; bedad, Sir, he called it a wart, if you plase! and feelin' it sthrongly, I let the jug of scaldin' wather drop on my knees; I wish you felt it, my darlin' Puddock.