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"God bless you, asthore, for thim words! and they're thrue thrue as the gospel, arrah what are you both so proud of? I defy you to get the aquil of my son in the barony of Lisnamona, either for face, figure or temper! I say he's fit to be a husband for as good a gill as ever stood in your daughter's shoes; an' from what I hear of her, she's as good a girl as ever the Almighty put breath in.
That the unhappy prisoner had for some time past made himself peculiarly obnoxious to this illegal class of persons; and that he was known in the country as what is termed "a marked man," ever since he had the courage to prosecute, about two years ago, one of their most notorious leaders, by name Connor O'Donovan, of Lisnamona; who was, at the period of writing that memorial, a convict during life in New South Wales, for a capital White-boy offence.
"Faith, the son o' one that can run a shillin' farther than e'er another man in the country. Do you happen to be acquainted wid one Connor O'Donovan, of Lisnamona?" "Connor O'Donovan that's good, Mike in the mane time don't be goin' it on us. No, no; an' even if she did, it isn't to you she spake about any one, Michael ahagur!"
"Dyin'!" he repeated "the misthress dyin' oh Susy, let a thousand childre go before her dyin'! did you say dyin'?" "Ay did I, an' it's truth too; but it's wid joy she's dyin' to see you kiss one of the purtiest young boys in all the barony of Lisnamona myself's over head and ears in love wid him already."
"Devil a much it signifies whether he's mad or otherwise," responded a neighbor. "I know him well; his name's Fardorougha Donovan, the miser of Lisnamona, the biggest shkew that ever skinned a flint. If P did nothin' worse than fleece him, it would never stand between him an' the blessin' o' Heaven."
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