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Kavanagh, is the price of a suit of clothes for him." "Michael, will you rise up, sir, and make the gintleman a bow? he has given you the price of a shoot of clothes, ma bouchal."

"Well, if Dick Martin saw him, it's enough: an' 'tis Dick that's the tindher-hearted boy, an' would knock, you down wid a lump of a stone, if he saw you murdherin' but a fly!" "We'll, Thady throth Thady, I fear you'll undherstand subtraction better nor your teacher: I doubt you'll apply it to 'Practice' all your life, ma bouchal, and that you'll be apt to find it 'the Rule of False'* at last.

And Father Philemy, maybe it's myself didn't put the thrick upon you in the Maragy More, about Katty's death ha, ha, ha! Jack M'Craner, yer health all yer healths, and yer welcome here, if you war seven times as many. Briney, where are you, ma bouchal? Come up and shake hands wid yer father, as well as another come up, acushla, and kiss me.

"There it is, a bouchal, on the shovel. Musha if myself rightly knows what side you're lyin' an, or I'd put it as near your lips as I could. Come, man, be stout, don't be cast down at all at all; sure, bud-an-age, we' shovelin' the way to you, any how." "I have it," replied the boy "oh, I have it. May God never forget this to you, whoever you are."

"You lie, I say, your faction never was able to fight ours; didn't we lick all your dirty breed in Builagh-battha fair?" "Silence there." "Will you meet us on Sathurday, and we'll fight it out clane!" "Ha-ha-ha! Tim, but you got a big fright, any how: whist, ma bouchal, sure I was only jokin' you; and sorry I'd be to bate your father's son, Tim. Come over, and sit beside myself at the fire here.

"Well," said I, "I'll jist trust to God and the consequences, for the cowld, Paddy, ma bouchal; but a blessed dhrop of it won't be crossin' my lips, avick; so no more ghostlier about it; dhrink it yourself if you like.

"No, thank ye, Paydro," replied Tim rubbing his hands at sight of the eatables; "this will do foorst rate, me bhoy. Misther Gray-ham, why don't ye fire away, ma bouchal? Sure an' y'r tay's gettin' cowld."

"'For heaven's sake, Sally, says Art, 'don't exaggerate him more nor he is the boy is only stunned see, he's coming to: Dick, ma bouchal, rouse yourself, that's a man: hut! he's well enough that's it, alannah; here, take a slug out of this bottle, and it'll set all right or stop, have you a glass within, Sally? 'Och, inusha, not a glass is under the roof wid me, says Sally; 'the last we had was broke the night Barney was christened, and we hadn't one since but I'll get you an egg-shell.* 'It'll do as well as the best, says Art.

"'Well, wait, says Larry, 'faix, only the strange man's to the fore, and I don't like to raise a hubbub, I'd pay you for making me such an answer. Dick, agra, will you run down, like a good bouchal, to the big house, and tell your mother to come home, that there's a strange man here wants her?

"God save you, a bouchal!" said a warm, honest-looking countryman, whom he met driving home his cows in the evening, within a few miles of the town in which he purposed to sleep. "God save you kindly!" "Why, thin, 'tis a long journey you have before you, alanna, for I know well it's for Munster you're bound."