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Updated: May 31, 2025
"What the plague are you talking about?" asked the captain. "Wasn't your honor discoorsin' me about the points o' the compasses?" "Confound your thick head!" said the captain. "Why, what an ignoramus you must be, not to know what a compass is, and you at sea all your life? Do you even know the cardinal points?" "The cardinals! faix, an' it's a great respect I have for them, your honor.
No, no, but I'll sit a clane, dacent ould woman in the corner upon a chair that you'll get made for me. There I'll be wid my pipe and tobacco, smokin' at my aise, chattin' to the sarvints, and sometimes discoorsin' the neighbors that'll come to inquire for you, when they'll be sittin' in the kitchen waitin' till you get through your office.
At length the approach of Phelim and his father was announced by a verse of a popular song, for singing which Phelim was famous; "A sailor coorted a farmer's daughter That lived contagious to the Isle of Man, A long time coortin', an' still discoorsin' Of things consarnin' the ocean wide; At linth he saize, 'My own dearest darlint, Will you consint for to be my bride?"
Well, Tim Donovan could not settle to sleep at all at all, an' so he kep' discoorsin' the wife about the new cows he bought, an' the stripphers he sould, an' so an for better than an hour, ontil from one thing to another he kem to talk about the pigs, an' the poulthry; and at last, having nothing betther to discoorse about, he begun at his daughter Molly, an' all the heartscald she was to him be raison iv refusin' the men.
Discoorsin' together they'll be of all the news, and as like as not he or it might be she 'ill say to her 'I seen Con the Quare One goin' the road a while back, and he wid ne'er a thraneen of anythin' in his hat, good or bad; the same way the other boys are; lookin' rael dacint and sinsible. Belike she might be axin' after me herself, and that 'ud put it in the other body's head.
'Before the gintlemen was half done, he was picking his long yellow teeth wid a pin, an' discoorsin' 'em as impident as if he was a gintleman himself, the spalpeen! All unwitting of the storm gathering in the person of the cook, Mr.
'Tis a pack of paupers I'm discoorsin', God help me." The Armagh shopkeepers are prosperous and content. "No Home Rule," they say. They are no longer angry with the Nationalists. The snake is scotched, if not killed outright, they think. The whole absurdity has received such a damning exposure that it cannot be revived for another generation.
"Arrah, miss, sure 'tisn't pigs you're thinkin' on, an' us discoorsin' about the gintlemen from Ireland, that you're all so fond ow here; faix, miss, they're the boys that fwoight for yees, an' 'ud rather be bringing an Englishman to the sad fwhor your sakes, nor atin' bread an' butther.
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