tin flies at the one
blow. It was three score and tin exactly, for he counted the carcasses
one by one, and laid them out on a clane plate for to view them.

Well, he felt a powerful sperit risin' in him when he seen the slaughter
he done at one blow, and with that he got as consaited as the very
dickens, and not a sthroke more work he'd do that day, but out he wint,
and was fractious and impident to everyone he met, and was squarein' up
into their faces and sayin', "Look at that fist! That's the fist that
killed three score and tin at one blow. Whoo! It is throwin' away my
time I have been all my life," says he, "stuck to my loom, nothin' but a
poor waiver, when it is Saint George or the Dhraggin I ought to be,
which is two of the sivin champions o' Christendom. I'm detarmined on
it, and I'll set off immediately and be a knight arriant." Well, sure
enough, he wint about among his neighbours the next day, and he got an
owld kittle from one and a saucepan from another, and he took them to
the tailor, and he sewed him up a shuit o' tin clothes like any knight
arriant, and he borrowed a pot lid, and _that_ he was very partic'lar
about, bekase it was his shield, and he wint to a friend o' his, a
painther and glaizier, and made him paint an his shield in big letthers:

"I'M THE MAN OF ALL MIN,
THAT KILL'D THREE SCORE AND TIN
AT A BLOW."

"When the people sees that," says the waiver to himself, "the sorra one
will dar for to come near me."

And with that he towld the housekeeper to scour out the small iron pot
for him, "for," says he, "it will make an iligant helmet." And when it
was done he put it an his head, and says she, "Is it puttin' a great
heavy iron pot an your head you are by way iv a hat?"

"Sartinly," says he, "for a knight arriant should always have a woight
an his brain."

"But," says she, "there's a hole in it, and it can't keep out the
weather."

"It will be the cooler," says he, puttin' it an him; "besides, if I
don't like it, it is aisy to stop it with a wisp o' sthraw, or the like
o' that."

"The three legs of it looks mighty quare stickin' up," says she.

"Every helmet has a spike stickin' out o' the top of it," says the
waiver, "and if mine has three, it's only the grandher it is."

"Well," says the housekeeper, getting bitther at last, "all I can say
is, it isn't the first sheep's head was dhress'd in it."

"Your sarvint, ma'am," says he; and off he set.

Well, he was in want of a