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'Th' man's clean crazy. 'Divvle's th' bit, says Donahue, wavin' his red flannel undhershirt in th' air. 'I'm the new man, he says. "Well, sir, Donahue said it flured thim complete. They didn't know what to say. Mollie was game, an' she fetched in th' coal; but Mrs. Donahue got nervous as eight o'clock come around. 'Ye're not goin' to stay in bed all day an' lose ye'er job, she says.
"In a few short weeks, Hinnissy, 'twill not be safe f'r ayether iv the candydates to come out on th' fr-ront porch till th' waitin' dillygations has been searched be a polisman. 'Tis th' divvle's own time th' la-ads that r-runs f'r th' prisidincy has since that ol' boy Burchard broke loose again' James G. Blaine.
I can't make out what ye meant be pretindin' to go to It'ly an' doublin' back into Germany; an' I wish f'r me own peace iv mind all ye'er explanations 'd mate. But, sure, if ivry man that was too free with his affections was to be sint to th' Divvle's Own Island, they'd have to build an intinsion to that far-famed winther resort.
"Only the divvle's in the luck, there's not a fresh egg to be had no, nor a fresh chicken," continued I, "nor a stale one either; not a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bohay; nor the laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh; nor hot rowls or cowld!" "In the name of Heaven!" said Mrs. Van, growing very pale, "what is there, then?"
While we were tramping about to keep warm, the Irish surgeon came to us through the bushes, vowing 'twas "the divvle's own weather, shure enough, barrin' the hivvenly moonlight." Opening his capacious greatcoat, he brought from concealment a small case, which Tom eyed askance, and I regarded ominously, though it had but a mere professional aspect to its owner.
At the sound of the Boy's voice a red face hanging over the stern broke into a broad grin. "Be the Siven! Air ye the little divvle himself, or air ye the divvle's gran'fatherr?" The apparition in the canoe was making fast and preparing to board the ship. "Can't take another passenger. Full up!" said the Captain. He couldn't hear what was said in reply, but he shook his head.
They was a time, Cap, whin 'twas seryously thought iv takin' ye fr'm th' Divvle's Own Island an' makin' ye prisident iv th' Women's Rescue League. But I'm afraid, Cap, ye're disqualified f'r that position be what we've heard fr'm ye'er own lips durin th' thrile. Ye lost a good job. Thin there ar-re some other things about ye I don't undherstand.
'But look how cold it was last winter, he says. 'Th' crops need weather like this, he says. I'd like to have hit him with a chair. Sundah night I wint over to see him. He was sittin' out in front, with a babby on each knee. 'Good avnin', says I. 'Good avnin', he says. 'This is th' divvle's own weather, I says. 'I'm suffocatin'. ''Tis quite a thaw, he says.
"Only the divvle's in the luck, there's not a fresh egg to be had no, nor a fresh chicken," continued I, "nor a stale one either; nor a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bohay; nor the laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh; nor hot rowls or cowld!" "In the name of heaven!" said Mrs. Van, growing very pale, "what is there, then?"
"Howly war!" cried one of the startled crew. "See what's butted into us the divvle's own battherin'-ram av a scow, an' wid an ilegant lanthern shtuck on her mangy hide, if ye plaze." A ship's lamp bobbed up and down in the gloom, and another voice said gruffly: "Mighty good job we had those fenders out, or she would have knocked a hole in us.
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