', bedad, she was
every taste as much in love wid himself as he was.

Well, now, he was raly stupid wid love: there was not a bit of fun
left in him. He was good for nothin' an airth bud sittin' under bushes,
smokin' tobacky, and sighin' till you'd wonder how in the world he got
wind for it all.

An', bedad, he was an illigant scholar, moreover; an', so signs, it's
many's the song he made about her; an' if you'd be walkin' in the
evening, a mile away from Carrickadrum, begorra you'd hear him singing
out like a bull, all across the country, in her praises.

Well, ye may be sure, ould Tim Donovan and the wife was not a bit too
well plased to see Bill Malowney coortin' their daughter Molly; for,
do ye mind, she was the only child they had, and her fortune was
thirty-five pounds, two cows, and five illigant pigs, three iron pots
and a skillet, an' a trifle iv poultry in hand; and no one knew how much
besides, whenever the Lord id be plased to call the ould people out of
the way into glory!

So, it was not likely ould Tim Donovan id be fallin' in love wid poor
Bill Malowney as aisy as the girls did; for, barrin' his beauty, an' his
gun, an' his dhudheen, an' his janius, the divil a taste of property iv
any sort or description he had in the wide world!

Well, as bad as that was, Billy would not give in that her father and
mother had the smallest taste iv a right to intherfare, good or bad.

'An' you're welcome to rayfuse me,' says he, 'whin I ax your lave,'
says he; 'an' I'll ax your lave,' says he, 'whenever I want to coort
yourselves,' says he; 'but it's your daughter I'm coortin' at the
present,' says he, 'an that's all I'll say,' says he; 'for I'd as soon
take a doase of salts as be discoursin' ye,' says he.

So it was a rale blazin' battle betune himself and the ould people;
an', begorra, there was no soart iv blaguardin' that did not pass betune
them; an' they put a solemn injection on Molly again seein' him or
meetin' him for the future.

But it was all iv no use. You might as well be pursuadin' the birds agin
flying, or sthrivin' to coax the stars out iv the sky into your hat, as
be talking common sinse to them that's fairly bothered and burstin'
wid love. There's nothin' like it. The toothache an' cholic together id
compose you betther for an argyment than itself. It leaves you fit for
nothin' bud nansinse.

It's stronger than whisky, for one good drop iv it will make you drunk
for one year, and sick, bego