"I preshoom, from your apparance, you've come into your prawpertee; and, bedad, yee'll spend it like a man of spirit I'll go bail for that. No? not yet come into your estete? If ye want any thrifle, heark ye, there's poor old Jack Costigan has got a guinea or two in his pocket and, be heavens! you shall never want, Awthur, me dear boy. What'll ye have?