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"Ay, but, Sam good Lord! here's God grant us a long life in the manetime! but upon my honor and conscience it's not revenge upon my own murdherers I want, but to be made a Stipendiary. Revenge! Good Lord! what is revenge to a murdhered man, Sam, maybe with five bullets in him! Now, Sam, this is not want of courage in me but but mere distress of mind on looking at the state of the country.
"Blessed be the name of the Almighty for that! Oh, I feel there is no doubt now the hand of God is in it, an' we'll come at the murdher or the murdherers yet." "I hope so," he replied; "but I'm lost Wid wet an' cowld; so in the meantime I'll be off home, an' to my bed.
'Th' Greeks won a thremenjous battle, killin' manny millions iv th' Moslem murdherers, but was obliged to retreat thirty-two miles in a gallop. 'Is that so? says I. 'Sure that seems to be their luck, I says. 'Whin-iver they win, they lose; an', whin they lose, they lose, I says. 'What ails thim? I says.
Oh! the murdherers, oh! the murdherers, the murdherers!" he exclaimed, "that killed my father; for only for them, he would be still wid us: but, by the God that's over me, if I live, night or day I will not rest, till I have blood for blood; nor do I care who hears it, nor if I was hanged the next minute."
"'Huzza! huzza! huzza! from the O'Hallaghans. 'Bravo, boys! there's one of them done for: whoo! my darlings! hurroo! the O'Hallaghans for ever! "The scene now changes to the O'Callaghan side. "'Jack oh, Jack, avourneen hell to their sowls for murdherers Paddy's killed his skull's smashed! Revinge, boys, Paddy O'Callaghan's killed!
Sure I never knew either act nor part of the murdher, nor of the murdherers; and you know, if it was anything of that nature, it couldn't tell me a lie, and me a Scapularian along wid axing it in God's name, with Father Feasthalagh's Latin." "Big tare-an'-ouns;" said the rest; "if we thought it was any man making fun of us, but we'd crop the ears off his head, to tache him to be joking!"
"Where the divil have ye put me into," says Terence inside, "bad luck to your sowls," says he, "let me out, or I'll be smothered this minute," says he. "There's no use in purtending," says the boy, "the gandher's spakin', glory be to God," says he. "Let me out, you murdherers," says Terence.
"In God's name," she said to herself, "what can this mean? Of late he hasn't had one hour's quiet rest at night; nothin' but startin' and shoutin' out, an' talkin' about murdher an' murdherers! What can it mane? for he's now walkin' in his sleep? Father," said she, "you're asleep; go back to bed, you had betther."
Will you, because he's a villain, make yourself murdherers make yourselves blacker than he is?" "Wiry, thin, death alive! Connor, have you your seven sinsis about you? Faith, that's good; as if it was a sin to knock such a white-livered Judas upon the head! Sin! oh hell resave the morsel o' sin in that but the contrairy.