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After some persuasion the heavy-souled parson agreed to go, and my dear good friend hoped that some spark of spiritual zeal might be thus kindled in him. When the retreat was at an end he button-holed him, and asked, "Well, how did you get on?" "Dooll, varry dooll!" replied the heavy soul, "I shud ha' left long ago, but the mutton was good."
"Take a nice cushioned chair an' be at home." Withero was leaning against the table. He saw and was equal to the joke. "Whin nature put a pilla on maan, it was intinded fur t' sit on th' groun', Jamie!" And down he sat on the mud floor. "It's th' proud wuman ye shud be th' night," Marget Hurll said, "an Misther Armstrong it was that said it was proud th' town shud be t' turn out a boy like him!"
I never did you harm, and and I stood you as much beer as I could. Oh, don't be hard on me, Dan! You are you were in it too. You won't kill me up there, will you?" "I'm not thinkin' of the treason; though you shud be glad any honest boys drank with you. It's for the regiment. We can't have the shame o' you bringin' shame on us.
Tell me faithfully what you mean. It shall go no further. And it may be of great service to your ladies." "It is not much, Master Jellicoose; and you may make less than that of it. But a lie shud be met and knocked doon, Sir, according to my opinion."
"'I'll take long an' long to die yet, he sez, 'for the ways av sin they're like interest in the rig'mintal savin's-bank sure, but a damned long time bein' paid. "The docthor sez to me quiet one day, 'Has Tighe there anythin' on his mind? he sez. 'He's burnin' himself out. "'How shud I know, Sorr? I sez, as innocent as putty. "They call him Love-o'-Women in the Tyrone, do they not? he sez.
You've seen me waltzin' through Lungtungpen like a Red Injin widout the warpaint, an' you say I'm too fond av the-ourisin'? 'Sorr, sez I, for I loved the bhoy; 'I wud waltz wid you in that condishin through Hell, an' so wud the rest av the men! Thin I wint downshtrame in the flat an' left him my blessin'. May the Saints carry ut where ut shud go, for he was a fine upstandin' young orficer,
I have not room to print them all, but as this was Charlie's first epistolary effort, it may interest some of my youthful readers to see it. The mistakes in spelling will be excused on the score of Charlie's literary inexperience. This is the way it commenced: "DEER FARTHER: I am sorry you hav to live in a log hous stuck up with mud. I shud think the mud wood cum off on your close.
What th' coort ought to've done was to call him up, an' say: 'Lootgert, where's ye'er good woman? If Lootgert cudden't tell, he ought to be hanged on gin'ral principles; f'r a man must keep his wife around th' house, an' whin she isn't there, it shows he's a poor provider. But, if Lootgert says, 'I don't know where me wife is, the coort shud say: 'Go out, an' find her.
"Ay, man, so it is," says Sandy, takin' a slaik o't aff wi' his fingers, an' syne dichtin't on the tail o' his sirtoo, the nesty character, 'at I shud say sic a wird!
"Why, whatever shud we git into trouble 'bout it for?" said John Cock. "'Tis like as not they ain't real only painted glass, scarce wuth the trouble o' car'in' ashore." "Hould thy tongue, thee g'eat chucklehead," replied Maggot; "a man wouldn't go for to tie such stuff round his waist to drown hisself with, I do know, if they worn't real. Lev us car' 'em to Maister Donnithorne."
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