testified, by frequent grunts, his
displeasure at this unceremonious disposal of his property.

Card-playing is very thirsty, and the boys were anxious to keep out
the wet; so that long before the pig's head was decided, a messenger
had been dispatched several times to Killarney, a distance of four
English miles, for a pint of whisky each time. The ale also went
merrily round, until most of the men were quite stupid, their faces
swoln, and their eyes red and heavy. The contest at length was
decided; but a quarrel about the skill of the respective parties
succeeded, and threatened broken heads at one time. At last Jack Shea
swore they must have something to eat;----him but he was starved with
drink, and he must get some rashers somewhere or other. Every one
declared the same; and Paddy was ordered to cook some _griskins_
forthwith. Paddy was completely nonplussed:--all the provisions were
gone, and yet his guests were not to be trifled with. He made a
hundred excuses--"'Twas late--'twas dry now--and there was nothing in
the house; sure they ate and drank enough." But all in vain. The ould
sinner was threatened with instant death if he delayed. So Paddy
called a council of war in the parlour, consisting of his wife and
himself.

"Agrah, Jillen, agrah, what will we do with these? Is there any meat
in the tub? Where is the tongue? If it was yours, Jillen, we'd give
them enough of it; but I mane the cow's." (aside.)

"Sure the proctors got the tongue ere yesterday, and you know there
an't a bit in the tub. Oh the murtherin villains! and I'll engage
'twill be no good for us, after all my white bread and the whisky.
That it may pison 'em!"

"Amen! Jillen; but don't curse them. After all, where's the meat? I'm
sure that Andy will kill me if we don't make it out any how;--and he
hasn't a penny to pay for it. You could drive the mail coach, Jillen,
through his breeches pocket without jolting over a ha'penny. Coming,
coming; d'ye hear 'em?"

"Oh, they'll murther us. Sure if we had any of the tripe I sent
yesterday to the gauger."

"Eh! What's that you say? I declare to God here's Andy getting up.
We must do something. _Thonom an dhiaoul_, I have it. Jillen run and
bring me the leather breeches; run woman, alive! Where's the block and
the hatchet? Go up and tell 'em you're putting down the pot."

Jillen pacified the uproar in the kitchen by loud promises, and
returned to Paddy. The use of the leather breeches passed her
c