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Before a blazing fire sat Sergeant Hollister and Betty Flanagan, enjoying themselves over a liberal potation. "I tell ye, sargeant dear," said Betty, removing the mug from her mouth, "'tis no r'asonable to think it was more than the piddler himself; sure now, where was the smell of sulphur, and the wings, and the tail, and the cloven foot?
"Pooh!" said Betty, in her philosophical way; "ye're no thinking that Mister Hollister is an officer, and stands next the cornet, in the troop. But this piddler gave warning of the brush the night, and it's no sure that Captain Jack would have got the day, but for the reenforcement." "How say you, Betty," cried the trooper, bending forward on his saddle, "had you notice of our danger from Birch?"
"Faith, but ye're wilcome, Mister Piddler, or Mister Birch, or Mister Beelzeboob, or what's yeer name. Ye're an honest divil anyway, and I'm hoping that you found the pitticoats convanient. Come forward, dear, and fale the fire; Sergeant Hollister won't be hurting you, for the fear of an ill turn you may be doing him hereafter will ye, sargeant dear?"
"And a lucky escape it was for ye, my jewel of a doctor," cried Betty, as the captain concluded. "Sargeant Hollister, who saw him face to face, as it might be, says it's Beelzeboob, and no piddler, unless it may be in a small matter of lies and thefts, and sich wickedness. Now a pretty figure ye would have been in cutting up Beelzeboob, if the major had hanged him.
"Jezebel back ag'in in your own teeth, and damned piddler too, Mr. Sargeant!" cried Betty, who was easily roused. "What have I to do with piddlers, or escapes? I might have been a piddler's lady, and wore my silks, if I'd had Sawny M'Twill, instead of tagging at the heels of a parcel of dragooning rapscallions, who don't know how to trate a lone body with dacency."
Don Quixote is a difficult undertaking: I shall never desire to read any attempt to redress him. Though I am a mere piddler in the Spanish language, I had rather take pains to understand him in the original than sleep over a stupid translation." Peregrine Pickle, however, Lady Mary had read shortly after its appearance in 1751: "I began by your direction with Peregrine Pickle.
Hang him catch him and hang him, major; if there's law or justice in the land." "Examine your pocket," said one of the youngsters, who was enjoying the scene, careless of the consequences. "Ah! faith," cried the washerwoman, producing a guinea, "but he is a jewel of a piddler!
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