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"You ought to rejoice in your chance of going there," said I, "Iwerddon is a beautiful country, and abounds with whisky." "And the Irish?" said he. "Hearty, jolly fellows," said I, "if you know how to manage them, and all gentlemen."
Here he became very violent, saying that I did not speak truth, for that he had seen plenty of Irish camping amidst the hills, that the men were half naked and the women were three parts so, and that they carried their children on their backs. He then said that he hoped somebody would speedily kill Nicholas, in order that the war might be at an end and himself not sent to Iwerddon.
He then asked me whether I thought the militia would be again called out. "Nothing more probable," said I. "And where would they be sent to?" "Perhaps to Ireland," was my answer, whereupon he started up with another Myn Diawl, expressing the greatest dread of being sent to Iwerddon.
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