fore him, doubles up the
cuff of his coat, to give his hand and wrist freedom: he then rises his
right arm, coming down with the heel of his hand upon the other
fellow's palm, under him, with full force. By jing, it's the divil's own
divarsion; for you might as well get a stroke of a sledge as a blow
from one of them able, hard-working fellows, with hands upon them like
lime-stone. When the fellow that's down gets it hot and heavy, the man
that struck him stands bent in his place, and some friend of the other
comes down upon him, and pays him for what the other fellow got.

"In this way they take it, turn about, one out of each parish, till it's
over; for I believe if they were to pelt one another _since_ (* from
that hour to this), that they'd never give up. Bless my soul, but it was
terrible to hear the strokes that the Slip and Pat M'Ardle did give that
night. The Slip was a young fellow upwards of six feet, with great able
bones and little flesh, but terrible thick shinnins (*sinews); his wrist
was as hard and strong as a bar of iron. M'Ardle was a low, broad man,
with a rucket head and bull neck, and a pair of shoulders that you
could hardly get your arms about, Mr. Morrow, long as they are; it's he,
indeed, that was the firm, well built chap, entirely. At any rate, a man
might as well get a kick from a horse as a stroke from either of them.

"Little Jemmy Teague, I remimber, struck a cousin of the Slip's a very
smart blow, that made him dance about the room, and blow his fingers for
ten minutes after it. Jemmy, himself, was a tight, smart fellow. When
the Slip saw what his cousin had got, he rises up, and stands over
Jemmy so coolly, and with such good humor, that every one in the house
trembled for poor Jemmy, bekase, you see, whenever the Slip was bent
on mischief, he used always to grin. Jemmy, however, kept himself bent
firm; and to do him justice, didn't flinch from under the stroke, as
many of them did--no, he was like a rock. Well, the Slip, as I said,
stood over him, fixing himself for the stroke, and coming down with such
a pelt on poor Jemmy's hand, that the first thing we saw was the blood
acrass the Slip's own legs and feet, that had burst out of poor Jemmy's
finger-ends. The Slip then stooped to receive the next blow himself, and
you may be sure there was above two dozen up to be at him. No matter;
one man they all gave way to, and that was Pat M'Ardle.

"'Hould away,' says Pat,--'clear off, boys, al