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Didn't I tache you manners, you dirty hanginbone blackguard? Didn't I tache you your blessed religion? may the divil sweep you! Did I ever prevent you from sharing the lavings of the pratees with the pig? and didn't you often clane out the pot with him? and you're no good afther all. I've turned my honest penny by the pig, but I'll never make my money of you, Andy Rooney!"

Thou shamest my good living, and thy belly is a rascally minister to thee, devouring all things for itself, without fattening a single member of the body corporate. Look at /me/, you dog, am /I/ thin? Go and get fat, or I will discharge thee: by the Lord I will! the sun shines through thee like an empty wineglass." "And is it upon your honour's lavings you would have me get fat?" rejoined Mr.

O'Carroll, with an air of deferential inquiry. "Now, as I live, thou art the impudentest varlet!" cried Mr. Fielding, stamping his foot on the floor, with an angry frown. "And is it for talking of your honour's lavings? an' sure that's /nothing/ at all, at all," said the valet, twirling his thumbs with expostulating innocence. "Begone, rascal!" said Mr.

I'd a light purse; Weems seemed better off; he must supply the trifle of shot necessary for the pair of us; and together we should split the proceeds. Yes, that would be the idea. And besides, on second thoughts, there'd be lashings and lavings of plunder for both. No need for a bit of sharp practice on my part after all. So up I spoke:

It'll be Sunday every day of the week with the man that's getting the lavings." "Take a taste of this beef before it goes, Mr. Thomas Quilliam, or do you prefer the mutton?" "I'm not partic'lar, Mr. Cregeen. Ateing's nothing to me but filling a sack that's empty."

And wouldn't myself have been the one to be helping you in the farm rearing the powlts, milkin' the cow, makin' the iligant butther, with lavings of butthermilk for the pigs the sow thriving, and the cocks and hens cheering your heart with their cacklin' the hank o' yarn on the wheel, and a hank of ingins up the chimbley oh! there's where the Providence would have been that would have been Providence indeed! but never tell me that Providence turned you out of the house; that was your own goostherumfoodle."

Niver a week but we killed two sheep, or a month that we didn't kill a baste. And pigs, your honour. If we didn't kill a pig every day, as your honour says, we killed a matther of four score every sayson. And there was lashings and lavings of mate for every one. And the ould masther said, says he, 'As long as it's there, says he, 'all are welcome to a bite and a sup at my house.

It's like going to the shop with an ould Manx shilling you get your pen'orth of taffy and twelve pence out." "Lend's a hand with the jough then, boy. None left? Aw, Cæsar's wonderful religious, but there's never much lavings of ale with him." Cæsar was striding through the stooks past Philip and Kate. "Will it thrash well, Mr. Cregeen?" said Philip.

O'Carroll, with an air of deferential inquiry. "Now, as I live, thou art the impudentest varlet!" cried Mr. Fielding, stamping his foot on the floor, with an angry frown. "And is it for talking of your honour's lavings? an' sure that's nothing at all, at all," said the valet, twirling his thumbs with expostulating innocence. "Begone, rascal!" said Mr.

Thou shamest my good living, and thy belly is a rascally minister to thee, devouring all things for itself, without fattening a single member of the body corporate. Look at me, you dog, am I thin? Go and get fat, or I will discharge thee: by the Lord I will! the sun shines through thee like an empty wineglass." "And is it upon your honour's lavings you would have me get fat?" rejoined Mr.