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I had you in my eye these three years, but was waitin' till I'd get together as much money as ud' set us up in the world dacently. Give me that egg-shell agin. Talkin's dhruthy work. Shudorth, a rogarah! "Wait till we're married first, Phelim; thin it'll be time enough to dhrink that." "Come, acushla, it's your turn now; taste the shell, an' you'll see how lovin' it'll make us.
"My blessin' an you, young man, an' don't be lanin' an me, i' you plase!" "Damnho sherry orth a rogarah ruah!* what do you mane? Is it my back you're brakin'?" * Eternal perdition on you, you red rogue. "Hell pershue you, you ould sinner, can't you keep the spike of your crutch out o' my stomach! If you love me tell me so; but, by the livin' farmer, I'll take no such hints as that!"
"Well, binaght lath, a rogarah!* Tell him the thruth to be game, an' he'll find you an' me sweeled together whin he comes out, plase Goodness." * My blessing be with you, you rogue! Phelim was but a few minutes gone, when the old military cap of Fool Art projected from the little bed-room, which a wicker wall, plastered with mud, divided from the other part of the cabin. "Is he gone?" said Art.
"What brought your husband to me, my good woman?" "Bhe dha husth; fag a rogarah lumsa." "He's comin' to it, plaise your reverence," said the wife.
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