o Tipperary, to be sould for ating,' says he,
'along wid the two gossoons,' says he, 'an' my name isn't Jer Garvan,'
says he, 'if he doesn't spake out before he's half-way,' says he. 'An'
mind,' says he, 'as soon as iver he says the first word,' says he, 'that
very minute bring him aff to Father Crotty,' says he; 'an' if his
raverince doesn't make him ratire,' says he, 'like the rest iv his
parishioners, glory be to God,' says he, 'into the siclusion iv the
flames iv purgathory,' says he, 'there's no vartue in my charums,' says
he.

"Well, wid that the ould gandher was let into the room agin, an' they
all begin'd to talk iv sindin' him the nixt mornin' to be sould for
roastin' in Tipperary, jist as if it was a thing andoubtingly settled.
But divil a notice the gandher tuck, no more nor if they wor spaking iv
the Lord-Liftinant; an' Terence desired the boys to get ready the kish
for the poulthry, an' to 'settle it out wid hay soft an' shnug,' says
he, 'for it's the last jauntin' the poor ould gandher 'ill get in this
world,' says he.

"Well, as the night was gettin' late, Terence was growin' mighty
sorrowful an' down-hearted in himself entirely wid the notions iv what
was goin' to happen. An' as soon as the wife an' the crathurs wor fairly
in bed, he brought out some illigint potteen, an' himself an' Jer Garvan
sot down to it; an', begorra, the more anasy Terence got, the more he
dhrank, and himself and Jer Garvan finished a quart betune them. It
wasn't an imparial, though, an' more's the pity, for them wasn't
anvinted antil short since; but divil a much matther it signifies any
longer if a pint could hould two quarts, let alone what it does, sinst
Father Mathew--the Lord purloin his raverince--begin'd to give the
pledge, an' wid the blessin' iv timperance to deginerate Ireland.

"An', begorra, I have the medle myself; an' it's proud I am iv that
same, for abstamiousness is a fine thing, although it's mighty dhry.

"Well, whin Terence finished his pint, he thought he might as well stop;
'for enough is as good as a faste,' says he; 'an' I pity the vagabond,'
says he, 'that is not able to conthroul his licquor,' says he, 'an' to
keep constantly inside iv a pint measure,' says he; an' wid that he
wished Jer Garvan a good night an' walked out iv the room.

"But he wint out the wrong door, bein' a thrifle hearty in himself an'
not rightly knowin' whether he was standin' on his head or his heels,
or both iv them at the sa