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"Faix, it is; I forgot my spectacles tonight. Who the dickins are you at all?" "I suppose you purtind to forget Ned M'Cormick?" "Is it Nogher's son?" "The divil a other; an', Dandy Duffy, how are you, man alive?"
"You desarve none for them words," said Fardorougha, who felt that Nogher's buffoonery jarred upon the better feelings that were rising within him "you desarve none, an' you'll get none for the present at laste, an' I'm only a fool for spaking to you." He then retired to the upper part of the kiln, where, in a dark corner, he knelt with a troubled heart, and prayed to God.
Long, long was the journey he tuck to see that son, an', as he tould me the day he whint into the ship, to die in his boy's arms; for he said heaven wouldn't be heaven to him, if he died anywhere else." Nogher's eyes filled as he spoke, and we need scarcely say that neither the Bodagh nor his son esteemed him the less for his attachment to Connor O'Donovan and his family.
"Why, how the devil can you call this good weather, neighbor, when it's raining for the last week, night and day?" "I do call it good weather for all that," returned Nogher, "for you ought to know that every weather's good that God sends." "Well," said the Bodagh, taken aback a little by the Nogher's piety, "there's truth in that, too, neighbor."
By He that made me, we won't give pain to a single hair of his head. Are you satisfied now?" "I am," replied the ingenuous young man, who was himself too candid to see through the sophistry of Nogher's oath. "And now, Nogher," he replied, "many a day have we spent together you are one of my oldest friends.
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