quarest tripes I ever eat. It must be she was very ould."

"By ----," says Andy, taking a piece from his mouth to which he had
been paying his addresses for the last half hour, "I'd as soon be
eating leather. She was a bull, man; I can't find the soft end at all
of it."

"And that's true for you, Andy," said the man of the gun; "and 'tis
the greatest shame they hadn't a bull-bait to make him tinder. Paddy,
was it from Jack Clifford's bull you got 'em? They'd do for wadding,
they're so tough."

"I'll tell you, Tim, where I got them--'twas out of Lord Shannon's
great cow at Cork, the great fat cow that the Lord Mayor bought for
the Lord Lieutenant--_Asda churp naur hagushch_."[14]

[14] May it never come out of his body!

"Amen, I pray God! Paddy. Out of Lord Shandon's cow? near the steeple,
I suppose; the great cow that couldn't walk with tallow. By ----,
these are fine tripes. They'll make a man very strong. Andy, give me
two or three _libbhers_ more of 'em."

"Well, see that! out of Lord Shandon's cow: I wonder what they gave
her, Paddy. That I mightn't!--but these would eat a pit of potatoes.
Any how, they're good for the teeth. Paddy, what's the reason they
send all the good mate from Cork to the Blacks?"

But before Paddy could answer this question, Andy, who had been
endeavouring to help Tim, uttered a loud "_Thonom an dhiaoul!_ what's
this? Isn't this flannel?" The fact was, he had found a piece of
the lining, which Paddy, in his hurry, had not removed; and all was
confusion. Every eye was turned to Paddy; but with wonderful quickness
he said "'Tis the book tripe, _agragal_, don't you see?"--and actually
persuaded them to it.

"Well, any how," says Tim, "it had the taste of wool."

"May this choke me," says Jack Shea, "if I didn't think that 'twas a
piece of a leather breeches when I saw Andy _chawing_ it."

This was a shot between wind and water to Paddy. His self-possession
was nearly altogether lost, and he could do no more than turn it off
by a faint laugh. But it jarred most unpleasantly on Andy's nerves.
After looking at Paddy for some time with a very ominous look, he
said, "_Yirroo Pandhrig_ of the tricks, if I thought you were going on
with any work here, my soul and my guts to the devil if I would not
cut you into garters. By the vestment I'd make a _furhurmeen_ of you."

"Is it I, Andy? That the hands may fall off me!"

But Tim Cohill made a most seasonable diversion. "Andy, when you