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Updated: June 12, 2025
I've been wid you long enough, sor, to know how you hate the sight av blisthers." "They must be quite a novelty to you, Patrick. I should think you'd be proud of them." "Where am I to put them, sor?" "The blisters?" "Yis, sor." "On this table, if you please. And you might cut the strings while you're about it." Pat put the bundles on the wicker table and cut the heavy twine in dignified silence.
"And now," said she, "I must give you a cure for blisthers, an' it's this: In the mornin', if we're all spared, as we will, plase the Almighty, I'll give you a needle and some white woollen thread, well soaped. When your blisthers gets up, dhraw the soapy thread through them, clip it on each side, an', my life for yours, they won't throuble you.
Faith, many a spare hour you've sarved there, I go bail, that is, when, you had nothing else to do an' by the way of raycreation jist." "Ay," said the pedlar, "listen how he sticks to the ould villain but sure, if you put any other two blisthers together, they'll do the same." "My own opinion is," observed Hanlon's aunt, "that it's a pity of the Daltons, at any raite.
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