himself agin his legs, an' lookin' up in his face
jist like any other Christian id do; an', begorra, the likes iv it was
never seen--Terence Mooney an' the gandher wor so great.

"An' at last the bird was so engagin' that Terence would not allow it to
be plucked any more, an' kep it from that time out for love an'
affection--just all as one like one iv his childer.

"But happiness in perfection never lasts long, an' the neighbours
begin'd to suspect the nathur an' intentions iv the gandher, an' some iv
them said it was the divil, an' more iv them that it was a fairy.

"Well, Terence could not but hear something of what was sayin', an' you
may be sure he was not altogether asy in his mind about it, an' from one
day to another he was gettin' more ancomfortable in himself, until he
detarmined to sind for Jer Garvan, the fairy docthor, in Garryowen, an'
it's he was the illigant hand at the business, an' divil a sperit id say
a crass word to him, no more nor a priest. An', moreover, he was very
great wid ould Terence Mooney--this man's father that was.

"So without more about it he was sint for, an', sure enough, the divil a
long he was about it, for he kem back that very evenin' along wid the
boy that was sint for him, an' as soon as he was there, an' tuck his
supper, an' was done talkin' for a while, he begin'd, of coorse, to look
into the gandher.

"Well, he turned it this away an' that away, to the right an' to the
left, an' straight-ways an' upside-down, an' when he was tired handlin'
it, says he to Terence Mooney:

"'Terence,' says he, 'you must remove the bird into the next room,' says
he, 'an' put a petticoat,' says he, 'or anny other convaynience round
his head,' says he.

"'An' why so?' says Terence.

"'Becase,' says Jer, says he.

"'Becase what?' says Terence.

"'Becase,' says Jer, 'if it isn't done you'll never be asy agin,' says
he, 'or pusillanimous in your mind,' says he; 'so ax no more questions,
but do my biddin',' says he.

"'Well,' says Terence, 'have your own way,' says he.

"An' wid that he tuck the ould gandher an' giv' it to one iv the
gossoons.

"'An' take care,' says he, 'don't smother the crathur,' says he.

"Well, as soon as the bird was gone, says Jer Garvan, says he:

"'Do you know what that old gandher _is_, Terence Mooney?'

"'Divil a taste,' says Terence.

"'Well, then,' says Jer, 'the gandher is your own father,' says he.

"'It's jokin' you are,' says Terence, turnin' mi