d find a Kay to Gough in
his pocket, although he throws Vosther in my teeth: the dunce never goes
widout one. Sure he's not able to set a dacent copy, or headline, or
to make a dacent hook, nor a hanger, nor a down stroke, and was a poor
scholar, too!"

"I'll give you a down stroke in the mane time, you ignoramus," said
the pedagogue, throwing' himself to the end of the table at I which his
enemy sat, and laying him along the floor by a single blow.

He was instantly attacked by the friend of the prostrate academician,
who was in his turn attacked by the friend of Costigan. The adherents
of the respective teachers I were immediately rushing to a general
engagement, when the door opened, and Darby More made his appearance.

"Asy!--stop wid yees!--hould back, ye I disgraceful villains!" exclaimed
the mendicant, in a thundering voice. "Be asy, I say. Saints in glory!
is this the way you're settlin' the dispute between the two dacent young
men, that's sorry, both o' them, I'll go bail, for what they done. Sit
down, every one o' yez, or, by the blessed ordhers I wear about me, I'll
report yez to Father Hoolaghan, an' have yez read out from the althar,
or sint to Lough Derg! Sit down, I say!"

As he spoke, he extended his huge cant between the hostile parties, and
thrust them one by one to their seats with such muscular energy, that he
had them sitting before another blow could be given.

"Saints in glory!" he exclaimed again, "isn't this blessed doins an the
sacred day that's in it! that a poor helpless ould man like me
can't come to get somethin' to take away this misfortunit touch o'
configuration that I'm afflicted wid in cowld weather--that I can't take
a little sup of the only thing that I cures me--widout your ructions and
battles! You came here to make pace between two dacent men's childher,
an' you're as bad, if not worse, yourselves!--Oh, wurrah dheelish,
what's this! I'm in downright agony! Oh, murdher sheery! Has none o' yez
a hand to thry if there's e'er a dhrop of relief in that bottle? or am I
to die all out, in the face o' the world, for want of a sup o' somethin'
to warm me?"

"Darby, thry the horn," said M'Kenna.

"Here, Darby," said one of them, "dhrink this off, an' my life for
yours, it'll warm you to the marrow!"

"Och, musha, but I wanted it badly," replied Darby, swallowing it at
once; "it's the only thing that does me good when I'm this way. _Deah
Graslhias!_ Oxis Doxis Glorioxis. Amin!"

"