ur we spent,
Around a big fire in the air too,
Or may be enjoying ourselves in a tent,
Exactly like Donnybrook fair too.
How he'd call out to me: "Pass the wine, Mr. Free,
For you're a man never is lazy!"
Then some one will cry, with a wink of her eye,
"Arrah, Mickey, dear, _can't you be asy?_"

I'll tell, too, the long years in fighting we passed,
Till Mounseer asked Bony to lead him;
And Sir Arthur, grown tired of glory at last,
Begged of one Mickey Free to succeed him.
"But, acushla," says I, "the truth is I'm shy!
There's a lady in Ballymacrazy!
And I swore on the book--" He gave me a look,
And cried: "Mickey, _now can't you be asy?_"

"Arrah, Mickey, now can't you be _asy?_" sang out a voice in chorus, and
the next moment Dr. Quill himself made his appearance.

"Well, O'Malley, is it a penitential psalm you're singing, or is my friend
Mike endeavoring to raise your spirits with a Galway sonata?"

"A little bit of his own muse, Doctor, nothing more; but tell me, how goes
it with the major,--is the poor fellow out of danger?"

"Except from the excess of his appetite, I know of no risk he runs. His
servant is making gruel for him all day in a thing like the grog-tub of a
frigate. But you've heard the news,--Sparks has been exchanged. He came
here last night; but the moment he caught sight of me, he took his
departure. Begad, I'm sure he'd rather pass a month in Verdun than a week
in my company!"

"By-the-bye, Doctor, you never told me how this same antipathy of Sparks
for you had its origin."

"Sure I drove him out of the Tenth before he was three weeks with the
regiment."

"Ay, I remember; you began the story for me one night on the retreat from
the Coa, but something broke it off in the middle."

"Just so, I was sent for to the rear to take off some gentleman's legs that
weren't in dancing condition; but as there's no fear of interruption now,
I'll finish the story. But first, let us have a peep at the wounded. What
beautiful anatomists they are in the French artillery! Do you feel the
thing I have now in my forceps? There,--don't jump,--that's a bit of the
brachial nerve most beautifully displayed. Faith, I think I'll give Mike a
demonstration."

"Oh, Mister Quill, dear! Oh, Doctor, darling!"

"Arrah, Mickey, now can't ye be asy?" sang out Maurice, with a perfect
imitation of Mike's voice and manner.

"A little lint here! Bend your arm,-