ob; "what then, are we come to the end of the
town?"

~80~~"Ha! ha! ha!" cried Tom--"the end--no, no,--I was going to say
there is no end to it--no, we have not reached any thing like the
centre."

"_Blood an owns, boderation and blarney_," (said an Irishman, at that
moment passing them with a hod of mortar on his shoulder, towards the
new buildings, and leaving an ornamental patch as he went along on Bob's
shoulder) "but I'll be a'ter _tipping turnups_{l} to any b----dy
rogue that's tip to saying--_Black's the white of the blue part of Pat
Murphy's eye_; and for that there matter," dropping the hod of mortar
almost on their toes at the same time, and turning round to Bob--"By the
powers! I ax the Jontleman's pardon--tho' he's not the first Jontleman
that has carried mortar--where is that _big, bully-faced blackguard_
that I'm looking after?" During this he brushed the mortar off Tallyho's
coat with a snap of his fingers, regardless of where or on whom he
distributed it.

The offender, it seemed, had taken flight while Pat was apologizing, and
was no where to be found.

"Why what's the matter?" inquired Tom; "you seem in a passion."

"Och! not in the least bit, your honour! I'm only in a d----d rage. By
the mug of my mother--arn't it a great shame that a Jontleman of
Ireland can't walk the streets of London without having _poratees and
butter-milk_ throw'd in his gums?"--Hitching up the waistband of his
breeches--"It won't do at all at all for Pat: its a reflection on my own
native land, where--

"Is hospitality,
All reality,
No formality
There you ever see;
The free and easy
Would so amaze ye,
You'd think us all crazy,
For dull we never be."

These lines sung with an Irish accent, to the tune of "Morgan Rattler,"
accompanied with a snapping of his fingers, and concluded with a
something in imitation of

1 _Tipping Turnups_--This is a phrase made use of among the
_prigging_ fraternity, to signify a turn-up--which is to
knock down.

~81~~an Irish jilt, were altogether so truly characteristic of the
nation to which he belonged, as to afford our Heroes considerable
amusement. Tom threw him a half-crown, which he picked up with more
haste than he had thrown down the mortar in his rage.

"Long life and good luck to the Jontleman!" said Pat. "Sure enough,
I won't be after drinking health and success to your Honour'