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Updated: May 25, 2025
"Troth, Nell, dacent woman," replied the other, "myself can't exactly say that. I'll be bound he's on the Esker, looking afther the sheep, poor crathurs, durin' Andy Connor's illness in the small-pock. Poor Andy's very ill, Nell, an' if God hasn't sed it, not expected; glory be to his name!" "Is Andy ill?" inquired Nell; "and how long?" "Bedad, going on ten days."
"Very well, sir, I know how many banes makes five at any rate let me alone." "What do you mean, you varlet," said his master, "by that impudent wink?" "Wink?" replied Dandy, with a face of admirable composure. "Oh, you observed it, then? Sure, God help me, it's a wakeness I have in one of my eyes ever since I had the small-pock." "And pray which eye is it in?" asked his master.
She is in no wise improved by having had her face dreadfully scarred with small-pock, and though Madam Esmond saith the young lady hath every virtue, I own her virtues did not suit me. Her eyes do not look straight; she hath one leg shorter than another; and oh, brother! didst thou never remark Fanny's ankles when we were boys? Neater I never saw at the Opera.
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