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Updated: May 18, 2025


Fwhy, out in the ould country, when we go man-hunting, we take a goon wid a mouth like a funnel, that ye can put a hat full av balls inter. To the divil wid such a goon as this." "Fix your mind on learnin' the kinks o' that gun, Barney," advised Shorty. "One ball from it put in the right place 'll do more than a hat full from your old Irish blunderbuss.

Afther that wan luk tho', Nobby he 'comes tu th' halt, so tu shpake, an' 'marks time' awhile considherin' for becod, she was a harrd-lukkin ould case long beyant mark av mouth. "Presintly, sez he: 'I'm a man av few wurrds! 'tis of then I have kissed a young wumman! an' he thwirls th' big buck moustache av um very slow 'fwhy shud I not kiss an ould wan? . . . an' he did. . . .

"Fwhy is ut?" said Mulvaney, bringing down his hand on his thigh with a crack, "In the name av God, fwhy is ut? I've seen ut, tu. They cheat an' they swindle an' they lie an' they slander, an' fifty things fifty times worse; but the last an' the worst by their reckonin' is to serve the Widdy honest. It's like the talk av childer seein' things all round."

Having satisfied his hunger, he deliberately but with the greatest simplicity of countenance filled the wallet which he carried slung across his back, with whatever he had left, observing as he did it: "Fwhy, thin, 'tis sthrange it is, that the same custom is wit us in Ireland beyant that is here: fwhor whinever a thraveller is axed in, he always brings fwhat he doesn't ate along wit him.

Their wurrd goes they're straight men. If they had Windy corralled all night, as Nick sez . . . fwhy! . . . that let's Windy out." He was silent awhile, then: "That harse av Windy's," he burst out with an oath, "I thought 't'was a cinch. Somethin' passin' rum 'bout all this. There's abs'lutely no mistake 'bout th' harse. Somebody in this god-forsaken burg must ha' used him tu du th' killin' wid.

"Whin he knows th' jig's up that's if he is in he may act like a man av sinse, an' agree tu come peaceable but " and Slavin shook his head slowly "if he refuses . . . fwhy? . . . 't'wud be straight suicide tu attimpt tu rush um. There's on'y wan dhure. Hidin' in th' dark there, wid that Luger gun av his coverin' ut, we'd shtand no show at all.

Fwhor in regard it cannot spake fwhor itself, sir, it frets as wise as a Christyeen, when it's not honestly thrated." "Never fear, Paddy; we shall take good care of it." "And how do you manage that in Ireland, Paddy?" "Fwhy, sir, I'll tell you how the misthress Gad bless her, will manage it fwhor you.

Let her stick to that, sir, keepin' it atin' one day an' fastin' an-odher, for six months, thin put a knife in it, an' if you don't have the fwhat an' lane, lair about, beautiful all out, fwhy nirer bl'eve Phadrumshagh Corfuffle agin. Ay, indeed!"

'Fwhy not? said Dan, with a twinkle in his eye as he stretched himself for rest. 'Are we not conspirin' all we can, an' while we conspire are we not entitled to free dhrinks? Sure his ould mother in New York would not let her son's comrades perish of drouth if she can be reached at the end of a letter. 'You're a janius, said Horse Egan. 'O' coorse she will not.

"I tould you, did I not, Sorr, that I was caressed an' pershuaded to lave the Tyrone on account av a throuble?" "Something to do with a belt and a man's head, wasn't it?" Terence had never given me the exact facts. "It was. Faith, ivry time I go on prisoner's gyard in coort I wondher fwhy I am not where the pris'ner is.

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