_Tom._ And how did you recompense your master for the loss of the bottle of wine?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I had a mind to cheat him, and myself too, for I took the bottle to a blacksmith, and desired him to mend it, that I might go to the butcher and get it full of b.l.o.o.d.y water; but he told me he could not work in anything but steel and iron. "Arra," said I, "if I were in my own kingdom, I could get a blacksmith who would make a bottle out of a stone, and a stone out of nothing."

_Tom._ And how did you trick your master out of it?

_Teag._ Why, the old rogue began to chide me, asking me what way I broke it. Then I held up the other as high as my head, and let it fall to the ground on a stone, which broke it all to pieces likewise. "Now," said I, "master, that's the way," and he beat me very heartily until I had to shout out mercy and murder all at once.

_Tom._ Why did you not leave him when he used you so badly?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I could never think to leave him while I could eat; he gave me so many good victuals, and promised to prefer me to be his own bone-picker. But, by Shaint Patrick, I had to run away with my life or all was done, else I had lost my dear shoul and body too by him, and then come home much poorer than I went away. The great big b.i.t.c.h dog, which was my master's best beloved, put his head into a pitcher to lick out some milk, and when it was in he could not get it out; and I, to save the pitcher, got the hatchet and cut off the dog's head, and then I had to break the pitcher to get out the head. By this I lost both the dog and the pitcher. My master, hearing of this, swore he would cut the head off me, for the poor dog was made useless, and could not see to follow anybody for want of his eyes. And when I heard of this, I ran away with my own head, for, if I had wanted it, I had lost my eyes too, then I would not have seen the road to Port Patrick, through Glen-nap; but, by Shaint Patrick, I came home alive in spite of them.

_Tom._ O, rarely done, Paddy; you behaved like a man! But what is the reason that you Irish people swear always by Saint Patrick?

_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, he was the best shaint in the world, the father of all good people in the kingdom. He has a great kindness for an Irishman when he hears him calling on his name.

_Tom._ But, Paddy, is Saint Patrick yet alive?

_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I don't know whether he be dead or alive, but it is a long time since they killed him. The people all turned heathens, but he would not change his profession, and was going to run the country with it, and for taking the gospel away to England, so the barbarous Tories of Dublin cutted off his head; and he swimmed over to England, and carried his head in his teeth.

PART II.

_Tom._ How did you get safe out of Scotland?

_Tom._ By the law, dear honey. When I came to Port Patrick, and saw my own kingdom, I knew I was safe at home, but I was clean dead, and almost drowned before I could get riding over the water; for I, with nine pa.s.sengers more, leapt into a little young boat, having but four men dwelling in a little house in the one end of it, which was all thacked with deals; and, after they had pulled up her tether-stick, and laid her long halter over her mane, they pulled up a long sheet, like three pair of blankets, to the rigging of the house, and the wind blew in that, which made her gallop up one hill and down another, till I thought she would have run to the world's end.

_Tom._ Well, Paddy, and where did you go when you came to Ireland again?

_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, and where did I go but to my own dear cousin, who was now become very rich by the death of the old buck, his father, who died but a few weeks before I went over, and the parish had to bury him out of pity; it did not cost him a farthing.

_Tom._ And what entertainment did you get there?

_Teag._ O, my dear shoy, I was kindly used as another gentleman, and would have stayed there long enough, but when a man is poor his friends think little of him. I told him I was going to see my brother Harry.

"Harry!" said he, "Harry is dead." "Dead!" said I, "and who killed him?"

"Why," said he, "Death." "Allelieu, dear honey, and where did he kill him?" said I. "In his bed," says he. "Arra, dear honey," said I, "if he had been upon Newry mountains, with his brogues on, and his broad sword by his side, all the deaths in Ireland had not have killed him. O that impudent fellow Death. If he had let him alone till he died for want of b.u.t.ter milk and potatoes, I am sure he had lived all the days of his life."

_Tom._ In all your travels when abroad, did you never see none of your countrymen to inform you of what happened at home concerning your relations?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I saw none but Tom Jack, one day in the street; but when I came to him, it was not him, but one just like him.

_Tom._ On what account did you go a-travelling?

_Teag._ Why, a recruiting sergeant listed me to be a captain, and after all advanced me no higher than a soldier itself, but only he called me his dear countryman recruit, for I did not know what the regiment was when I saw them. I thought they were all gentlemen's sons and collegioners, when I saw a box like a Bible upon their bellies, until I saw G for King George upon it, and R for G.o.d bless him. "Ho, ho," said I, "I shan't be long here."

_Tom._ O, then, Paddy, you deserted from them?

_Teag._ That's what I did, and ran to the mountains like a buck, and ever since when I see any soldiers I close my eyes, lest they should look and know me.

_Tom._ And what exploits did you when you was a soldier?

_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, I killed a man.

_Tom._ And how did you do that?

_Teag._ Arra, dear honey, when he dropt his sword I drew mine, and advanced boldly to him, and then cutted off his foot.

_Tom._ O, then, what a big fool was you, for you ought first to have cut off his head.

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, his head was cutted off before I engaged him, else I had not done it.

_Tom._ O, then, Paddy, you acted like a fool; but you are not such a big fool as many take you to be. You might pa.s.s for a philosopher.

_Teag._ A fulusipher. My father was a fulusipher; besides, he was a man under great authority by law, condemning the just and clearing the guilty. Do you know how they call the horse's mother?

_Tom._ Why, they call her a mare.

_Teag._ A mare, ay, very well minded. My father was a mare in Cork.

_Tom._ And what riches was left you by the death of your mother?

_Teag._ A bad luck to her own barren belly, for she lived in great plenty, and died in great poverty; devoured up all or she died, but two hens and a pockful of potatoes--a poor estate for an Irish gentleman, in faith.

_Tom._ And what did you make of the hens and potatoes? Did you sow them?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I sowed them in my belly, and sold the hens to a cadger.

_Tom._ What business did your mother follow after?

_Teag._ Greatly in the merchant way.

_Tom._ And what sort of goods did she deal in?

_Teag._ Dear honey, she went through the country and sold small fishes, onions, and apples; bought hens and eggs, and then hatched them herself.

I remember of a long-necked c.o.c.k she had, of an oversea brood, that stood on the midden and picked all the stars out of the north-west, so they were never so thick there since.

_Tom._ Now, Paddy, that's a bull surpa.s.ses all; but is there none of that c.o.c.k's offspring alive now?

_Teag._ Arra, dear shoy, I don't think there are; but it is a pity but that they had, for they would fly with people above the sea, which would put the use of ships out of fashion, and n.o.body would be drowned at all.

_Tom._ Very well, Paddy, but in all your travels did you ever get a wife?

_Teag._ Ay, that's what I did, and a wicked wife, too; and, my dear shoy, I can't tell whether she is gone to Purgatory or the parish of Pig-trantrum, for she told me she should certainly die the first opportunity she could get, as this present evil world was not worth the waiting on, so she would go and see what good things is in the world to come; so when that old rover called the Fever came raging over the whole kingdom, she went away and died out of spite, leaving me nothing.

_Tom._ O, but, Paddy, you ought to have gone to a doctor, and got some pills and physic for her.

_Teag._ By Shaint Patrick, I had as good a pill of my own as any doctor in the kingdom could give her.

_Tom._ O, you fool, that is not what I mean. You ought to have brought the doctor to feel her pulse, and let blood off her if he thought it needful.