uses a staff wid
a cross on the end that he houlds in his hand. I'll put down a staff wid
a cross on it."

"Would there be no danger of me mistakin' that for the priest's cudgel?"

"Divil the slightest. I'll pledge my knowledge of geography, they're two
very different weapons."

"Well, put it down--I'll know it."

"Roger M'Gaugy of Nurchasy. What for him? Roger's a pig-driver. I'll put
down pig. You'll comprehend that?"

"I ought; for many a pig I sould in my day. Put down the pig; an' if you
could put two black spots upon his back, I'd know it to be one I sould
him about four years agone--the fattest ever was in the country--it had
to be brought home on a car, for it wasn't able to walk wid fat."

"Very good; the spots are on it. The last is Owen Smith of Lisbuy. Now,
do you see that I've drawn a line from place to place, so that you have
nothing to do only to keep to it as you go. What for Owen?"

"Owen! Let me see--Owen! Pooh! What's come over me, that I've nothin'
for Owen? Ah! I have it. He's a horse-jockey: put down a gray mare I
sould him about five years agone."

"I'll put down a horse; but I can't make a gray mare wid black ink."

"Well, make a mare of her, any way."

"Faith, an' that same puzzles me. Stop, I have it; I'll put a foal along
wid her."

"As good as the bank. God bless you, Misther O'Flaherty. I think this
'll keep me from mistakes. An' now, if you'll slip up to me afther dusk,
I'll send you down a couple o' bottles and a flitch. Sure you desarve
more for the throuble you tuck."

Many of our readers, particularly of our English readers, will be
somewhat startled to hear that, except the change of names and places,
there is actually little exaggeration in the form of this oath; so just
is the observation, that the romance of truth frequently exceeds that of
fiction.

Peter had, however, over-rated his own strength in supposing that he
could bear the long dozen in future; ere many months passed he was
scarcely able to reach the half of that number without sinking into
intoxication. Whilst in this state, he was in the habit of going to the
graveyard in which his wife lay buried, where he sat, and wept like a
child, sang her favorite songs, or knelt and offered up his prayers for
the repose of her soul. None ever mocked him for this; on the contrary,
there was always some kind person to assist him home. And as he
staggered on, instead of sneers and ridicule, one might hear such
express