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"Whin I was a young man in th' ol' counthry, we heerd th' same story about all America. We used to set be th' tur-rf fire o' nights, kickin' our bare legs on th' flure an' wishin' we was in New York, where all ye had to do was to hold ye'er hat an' th' goold guineas'd dhrop into it.

Divil a less would sarve her turn! She has a brick flure to her house, an' she washes it divil a lie I tell ye she washes it wid wather an' wid soap an' wather, ivery Sattherday in the week! The saints betune us an' harm, but all she wants now is to turn Protestant altogether!"

He took it home undher his ar-rm in th' rain an' th' next mornin' most iv th' flower-pot was on his new overcoat an' th' rest was meltin' all over th' flure. "That was the beginnin' iv th' end iv th' frindship between th' two gr-reat nations that owe thimselves so much. About th' time Hogan got th' flower-pot, th' fire-sale ads an' th' Rooshyan outrage news both stopped in th' newspa-apers.

We a' ken what ye mean an' what ye want wi'oot that. Then she turned to Robert, and said in a whisper, 'Dr. Gow wadna hae ye sent for; but I kent weel eneuch 'at he wad be a' the quaieter gin ye war here. Jist gie a chap upo' the flure gin ye want onything, an' I'll be wi' ye in twa seconds. The sisters went away. Robert drew a chair beside the bed, and once more was nurse to his friend.

'Did you find this in it? he asked, seating himself on her little throne of turf. 'Na; I put that there mysel, answered Kirsty. 'There was naething intil the place, jist naething ava! There was naething ye cud hae pickit aff o' the flure. Gien it hadna been oot o' the gait o' the win', ye wud hae thoucht it had sweepit it clean.

As sune 's it comes to ony fechtin', up he gets, an' gangs stridin' aboot the flure; an' whiles he maks a claucht at 's claymore; an' faith! ance he maist cawed aff my heid wi' 't, for he had made a mistak aboot whaur I was sittin'." "What's a claymore?" "A muckle heelan' braidswoord, my leddy. Clay frae gladius verra likly; an' more 's the Gaelic for great: claymore, great sword.

You'd only have to lay down the potato-basket on the flure, or the misthress, Gad bless her, could do it, an' not lave a crumblin' behind her, besides sleepin, your haner, in the carner beyant, if she'd take the throuble." The sluggish phlegm of the Englisman was stirred up a little by the twisted, and somewhat incomprehensible nature of these instructions.

An' we're to th' flure." "That's th' way it stands in Chiny, Hinnissy, an' it looks to me as though Westhren Civilization was in f'r a bump. I mind wanst whin a dhrunk prize fighter come up th' r-road and wint to sleep on Slavin's steps. Some iv th' good sthrong la-ads happened along an' they were near bein' at blows over who shud have his watch an' who shud take his hat.

The chist av drawers was lyin' on uts face, wid all the dhrawers out an' emptied on the flure. 'Twas as though an arrmy had been lootin', sor!" "But still nothing was gone?" "Nothin', so far as I investigated, sor. But I didn't shtay. I came out to spake to the polis, an' two av them laffed at me wan afther another!" "It has certainly been no laughing matter for you.

'All I've got to do, he says, 'is to set up at th' desk, he says, 'an' not recall th' names iv th' gintlemen on th' flure, an' me jooty's done, he says. 'I thank ye kindly, Willum; but I cannot accept ye'er gin'rous offer, he says. 'Go back to th' cell, he says, 'an' slave like a convict, he says. 'I will not rob me frind, he says, 'iv such an honor.