matther, a hagur, there's enough sed, I'm thinkin'-give 'em to 'im." On Ned seating himself to his bacon and potatoes, Nancy would light another pipe, and plant herself on the opposite hob, putting some interrogatory to him, in the way of business-always concerning a third person, and still in a tone of dry ironical indifference; as, "Did ye see Jimmy Connolly on yer thravels?" "Ha ha ha! by my sannies, Nancy, as to market-makin' they may all throw their caps at ye; ye thief o' the world, ye can do them nately.' "Ha ha ha! Stop, Ned, don't dhrink that wather-id's not from the rock well; but I'll jist mix a sup iv this last stuff we got from the mountains till ye taste id: I think id's not worse nor the last-for Hugh Traynor's an ould hand at makin' id." This was all Ned wanted; his point was "No." "Humph! Can ye tell iz if Andy Morrow now carried: but with respect to the rising of sowld his cowlt?" the tobacco, the less that is said about that the better for his veracity. "He did." This was an assertion, by the way, which Ned knew to have everything but truth in it. "Never heed the filley," Ned would reply, "I'll get Charley Lawdher to dock her-bud id's not her I'm thinkin' iv: did ye hear the news about the tobacky?" "No, but I hope we won't be long so." "Well, any how, we war in look to buy in them three last rowls." "Eh? in look! death-alive, how, Ned?" "Sure there was three ships iv id lost last week on their way from the kingdom of Swuzzerland, in the Aste Indians, where id grows we can rise id thruppence a-pound now." "" No, Ned! you're not in arnest?" "Faith, bud ye may say I am; an' as soon as Tom Loan comes home from Dublin he'll tell iz all about id; an' for that matther, maybe, id may rise sixpence a-pound: faith, we'll gain a lob by id, I'm thinkin'." 66 May I never stir! bud that's look: well, Ned, ye may thank me for that, any way, or not a rowl we'd have in the four corners iv the house-en' ye wanted to persuade me agin buyin' thim; bud I knew betther-for the tobacky's always sure to get a bit iv a hitch at this time a year." "Bedad, you can do id, Nancy; I'll say that for ye-that's an' give ye yer own way." "Eh! can't I, Ned?-an' what was betther, I bate down Pether M'Entee three-ha'pence a-pound afther I bought them." WILLIAM CARLETON. THE DEAD TRUMPETER. Wake, soldier! wake! thy war-horse waits, |