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"Why, your Lordship," replied Darby, "I've made out a couple of proserlytes, that will be a credit to our blessed Establishment, as soon as they're convarted. One of them, my Lord, is called Barney Butther, an' the other Tom Whiskey, in regard of " "Go about your business, sir," replied the prelate, reddening with indignation; "begone."
'Was ye at th' cake walk? 'Who stole me hat? 'Cudden't ye die waltzin'? 'They say Murphy has gone on th' foorce. 'Hivins, there goes th' las' car! 'Pass th' butther, please: I'm far fr'm home. All iv thim talkin' away at once, niver carin' f'r no wan, whin all at wanst up stheps me bold Hogan with a nose on him, glory be, such a nose! I niver see th' like on a man or an illyphant.
"Here, as we're distressed, take it for sixpence a pound, and that's the lowest price God knows, if we wern't as we are, it isn't for that you'd get it." "Troth, I dar' say, you're ill off as who isn't in these times? an' it's worse they're gettin' an' will be gettin' every day. Troth, I say, my heart bleeds for you; but we can't dale; oh, no! butther, as I said, is only dirt now."
"It's not the hard times I'm speakin' of now," said Ellen; "they're bad enough, goodness knows; but it's the bother we have all the time, and we can't tell how or why. Half the time the cow gives no milk, and when she does, you can make no butther wid it. The pig, the crathur, won't get fat; he ates everything he can reach, and still he looks like a basket wid a skin over it.
"Now, my dear," says he, "you must take that skillet, and hould it over the fire till the milk comes to a blood hate; and the way you'll know that will be by stirring it onc't or twice wid the little finger ov your right hand, afore you put in the butther: not that I misdoubt," says he, "but that the same finger's fairer nor the whitest milk that ever came from the tit."
"I'm sarry for it, Darby," replied he who held the now empty bottle; "for the whiskey's out." "Throth, an' I'm sarry myself, for nothin' else does me good; an' Father Hoolaghan says nothin' can keep it down, barrin' the sup o' whiskey. It's best burnt, wid a little bit o' butther an it; but I can't get that always, it overtakes me so suddenly, glory be to God!"
"We tried the praties this mornin', sir, and we'll have new praties, and bread and butther, sir."
"Biddy, give Yahn some bread." The loaf, evidently the only one, was cut up and two or three slices forced into Yan's plate. "Mebbe the butther is a little hoigh," exclaimed the hostess, noting that Yan was sparing of it. "Howld on." She went again to the corner shelf and got down an old glass jar with scalloped edge and a flat tin cover. It evidently contained jam.
"In throth, the same proverb's a lyin' one, and ever was; but it's not parsnips I'll butther wid 'em, you gommoch." "Sowl, you butthered me wid 'em long enough, you deludher devil a lie in it; but thin, as you say, sure enough, I was no parsnip not so soft as that either, you phanix." "No?
"She's the Black Prophet's daughter," exclaimed the women; "an' if the devil was in her, she tould Tom Dalton nothing but the truth, at any rate." "An' they say the devil is in her, the Lord save us, if ever he was in any one keep away from her my sowl in Heaven! but she'd think no more of tearin' your eyes out, or stickin' you wid a case-knife, than you would of aitin' bread an' butther."
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