patch upon your breeches, your little knees are through them, though
'tisn't by prayin' you've wore them, any how, you little hop-o'-my-thumb
you, wid a voice like a rat in a thrap; off wid you, man alive!"

Sometimes the neighboring gentry used to call into Mat's establishment,
moved probably by a curiosity excited by his character, and the general
conduct of the school. On one occasion Squire Johnston and an English
gentleman paid him rather an unexpected visit. Mat had that morning got
a new scholar, the son of a dancing tailor in the neighborhood; and
as it was reported that the son was nearly equal to the father in that
accomplishment, Mat insisted on having a specimen of his skill. He was
the more anxious on this point as it would contribute to the amusement
of a travelling schoolmaster, who had paid him rather a hostile visit,
which Mat, who dreaded a literary challenge, feared might occasion him
some trouble.

"Come up here, you little sartor, till we get a dacent view of you.
You're a son of Ned Malone's--aren't you?"

"Yes, and of Mary Malone, my mother, too, sir."

"Why, thin, that's not so bad, any how--what's your name?"

"Dick, sir."

"Now, Dick, ma bouchal, isn't it true that you can dance a horn-pipe?"

"Yes, sir."

"Here, Larry Brady, take the door off the hinges, an' lay it down on the
flure, till Dick Malone dances the _Humors of Glynn_: silence, boys, not
a word; but just keep lookin' an."

"Who'll sing, sir? for I can't be afther dancin' a step widout the
music."

"Boys, which of yez'll sing for Dick? I say, boys, will none of yez give
Dick the Harmony? Well, come, Dick, I'll sing for you myself:

"Tooral lol, lorral lol, lorral lol, lorral, lol--
Toldherol, lorral lol, lorral lol, lol," etc., etc.

"I say, Misther Kavanagh," said the strange master, "what angle does
Dick's heel form in the second step of the treble, from the kibe on the
left foot to the corner of the door forninst him?"

To this mathematical poser Mat made no reply, only sang the tune with
redoubled loudness and strength, whilst little Dicky pounded the old
crazy door with all his skill and alacrity. The "boys" were delighted.

"Bravo, Dick, that's a man,--welt the flure--cut the buckle--murder the
clocks--rise upon suggaun, and sink upon gad---down the flure flat,
foot about--keep one foot on the ground and t'other never off it,"
saluted him from all parts of the house.

Sometimes he would receive a sl