r turn by and by'--little
thinkin' what was in store for him, the haythen!

"Well, when he thought that side was done he turns it again--and lo and
behould you, the divil a taste more done that side was nor the other.
'Bad luck to me,' says the sojer, 'but that bates the world,' says he;
'but I'll thry you agin, my darlint,' says he, 'as cunnin' as you think
yourself'--and so with that he turns it over and over, but not a sign av
the fire was an the purty throut. 'Well,' says the desperate
villian--(for sure, sir, only he was a desperate villian _entirely_; he
might know he was doin' a wrong thing, seein' that all his endayvours
was no good)--'well,' says he, 'my jolly little throut, maybe you're
fried enough, though you don't seem over well dress'd; but you may be
better than you look, like a singed cat, and a tit-bit, afther all,'
says he; and with that he ups with his knife and fork to taste a piece
o' the throut--but, my jew'l, the minit he puts his knife into the fish
there was a murtherin' screech, that you'd think the life id lave you if
you heerd it, and away jumps the throut out av the fryin' pan into the
middle o' the flure; and an the spot where it fell up riz a lovely
lady--the beautifullest young crathur that eyes ever seen, dressed in
white, and a band o' goold in her hair, and a sthrame o' blood runnin'
down her arm.

"'Look where you cut me, you villian,' says she, and she held out her
arm to him--and, my dear, he thought the sight id lave his eyes.

"'Couldn't you lave me cool and comfortable in the river where you
snared me, and not disturb me in my duty?' says she.

"Well, he thrimbled like a dog in a wet sack, and at last he stammered
out somethin', and begged for his life, and ax'd her ladyship's pardin,
and said he didn't know she was an duty, or he was too good a sojer not
to know betther nor to meddle with her.

"'I _was_ on duty then,' says the lady; 'I was watchin' for my thrue
love that is comin' by wather to me,' says she; 'an' if he comes while I
am away, an' that I miss iv him, I'll turn you into a pinkeen, and I'll
hunt you up and down for evermore, while grass grows or wather runs.'

"Well, the sojer thought the life id lave him at the thoughts iv his
bein' turned into a pinkeen, and begged for marcy; and, with that, says
the lady:

"'Renounce your evil coorses,' says she, 'you villian, or you'll repint
it too late. Be a good man for the futhur, and go to your duty reg'lar.
And no